Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x3motg/first_day_of_school_part_2/
I have never managed to go to the first day of school without throwing up. Initially, I thought it was a phase that would pass. Then high school came, and then my first couple years of college and the nervousness persisted. My anxiety medication and my anti-depressants cannot put a dent in the crushing feeling that everyone will see me enter the room and immediately know that I do not belong. A serious case of Imposter Syndrome that slowly dissipates throughout the year but recharges between semesters. This explains why at the onset of the pandemic, I was wholly relieved. Everyone started attending classes virtually and I was sure that my nervousness, my anxiety, my curse, would be quelled. I was wrong.
I signed up for a course on writing horror. Scary movies have been a kind of comfort food for me throughout the years. Anytime I started to think that life was getting too bad I would throw on a slasher film and see that I was doing okay.
I counted the minutes down before the first session was set to start. My plan was to log in fifteen minutes ahead of time. Not too early, but not too late to avoid drawing attention to myself. I ran to the bathroom and retched up my lunch, tuna salad. The bathrooms are far enough away from the desks in my co-work building that I was sure no one could have heard me.
Upon logging in, I was happy to see there were four others in the virtual class. The professor, Malachi Frederickson, owner of quite possibly the most pompous name I have ever heard, John Geary, a middle-aged track coach, Gitcela Romero, a younger girl, and a user without their camera active with the name, T.A. I could only assume that was the teacher’s assistant. I made sure my mic was muted and sat there smiling, a loop of affirmations playing in my head.
You belong here. You are enough. Everyone else is nervous too. You are talented. You belong.
I have never been one to quickly make friends, if at all. I was a mix of emotions when a private message popped up on my screen. For a moment, I thought I may need to release my sick again. Opening the message set me at ease.
T.A.: Hey! Welcome to class. I always feel so intimidated by everyone on the first day. I hope that we can be friends. My name is Montague Druitt. Most of my friends call me Jack. You’re welcome to use either.
Me: Thanks for reaching out. I am Alex. It’s short for Alexandria, but that sound far too pretentious for my taste. I too suffer from feeling intimidated by everyone on the first day.
T.A.: Oh, I get it. I puke before the first class every semester. You should see me running to the bathroom to avoid getting puke everywhere. It’s not the best look.
Me: LOL… I swear I just did that same thing before logging into this class. I didn’t know it happened to anyone else. I feel so validated.
T.A.: Awe! I’m glad I could make you feel good about yourself, Alex. Trust me, you belong here just as much as any of us.
Me: Thanks, Jack! That means the world to me. You have no idea.
T.A.: I have some idea, like I said, the same thing happens to me.
Me: Looks like the professor is about to start class. I will message you later.
T.A.: Awe, don’t go. We can keep chatting while the professor does his thing. There isn’t much to miss. Trust me.
I smiled at the message and left the chat box open. Professor Frederickson was laying down the rules of the class and what we could expect throughout the semester. He was very adamant on just how writing intensive of a course this would be, that no one should call him anything other than professor or doctor and that he was a harsh grader. Great. One of the old guard that tries to make a subject as hard as possible. I cannot stand gatekeepers.
T.A.: Do not ignore me. It is rude.
Me: I’m not ignoring you. I am just trying to pay attention. Didn’t mean any disrespect by it. I promise.
T.A.: It’s fine. I get it. First-day jitters and all. I think it is so cute, the way you tap your nails on your thighs when focusing.
The air caught in my lungs. I had to force it out manually to start breathing again. Maybe I was mistaken, and my paranoia was getting the best of me. I looked at my live image being displayed in the Zoom meeting and felt cold all over. My stomach dropped to the floor. The camera displayed my shoulders and up. There was no way that anyone in the class could see me tapping my fingers beneath the table. I did not want to turn around. Suddenly the bright and open co-work space did not feel public or safe.
T.A.: I told you not to ignore me. You don’t follow directions very well at all. It’s starting to make me mad. Why do you want to make me mad?
Me: I’m sorry. I just got caught up in thought. I don’t want to make you mad, and I didn’t mean to ignore you again.
Professor Frederickson was still covering the layout of his class when he mentioned that this semester would be harder than normal because he was unable to secure a T.A. to help out. I was frozen in my seat. I could feel my legs begin to shake. The professor went on to mention that he had forgotten to set up private messaging before the class period, but it would be available for the subsequent classes moving forward. He mentioned it being a great way to create a network and find like-minded friends. I think I would have laughed if I could make a noise. Footsteps on the hardwood flooring echoed around the room. They grew in volume. The creaks in the old wood seemed to be coming from just behind me. I could feel breathing on the back of my neck.
T.A.: Turn around and look at me. You said that we would be friends, Alex.
The breathing became warmer, faster, and more forceful. I could not bring myself to turn around. My mind was no longer in charge of my body. I was a prisoner. An intrusive thought broke through the fear. Look at your camera. Before I could stop myself, I stole a glance. I will never forget the eyes or the blank stare that contained them. Wild, dilated and fixed on the back of my head. The skin was a patchwork of tissue. A grotesque quilt stitched together from the remains of those that came before me. A collage of pain and suffering. My camera cut to black, and I screamed.
When I regained consciousness, I jumped up and scanned the room. No one was within sight. I looked at my laptop and saw the class was still in session. There was no black camera with the name T.A. Must have had a panic attack, I reasoned. My heart rate began to descend back to a normal level, and I felt okay. I felt okay until I got the notification that I received a private message. I held my breath and opened it.
T.A.: I can’t wait until our next class together. I am excited to get closer to you.
My next class is in two days. I am terrified.