My psychologist tells me not to feel bad.

“All fears are valid,” he says, “even if they feel “silly”, or uncommon.”

But I don’t trust doctors. Especially when they don’t make eye contact. He kept looking at his notebook, as if that's where he was going to find the answers to my sick, messed up phobias.

I’m afraid of lots of things. Heights, pills, the ocean, big fires, maybe doctors a little bit? But more than anything, ducks. I’m over feeling bad about it. I’m not apologizing, and I don’t care when people laugh about it.

When scary stuff is right up in your face, it's different. Everybody waxes eloquent about the great unknown, the deep blackness of the ocean, primordial fear etc etc, but then you’re standing right there in the park, and you see sitting right there. Literally within walking distance! And it's just staring, unblinking and unbothered. It doesn’t matter what the weather is. Even in broad daylight, with a dozen kids on the other side of the park, they don’t care. The duck will keep watching you.

You can joke about it if you want, but what other scary thing gets to just do that? At least people respect heights. That's why safety belts and rails and junk like that exists.

But heights can’t follow you home. The deep ocean doesn’t touch your mail. And you don’t hear pills tapping your window when you’re alone.

At first, I tried to never be alone. My psychologist used to say that was an ‘unhealthy coping mechanism’, but I don’t see how. It literally helped. They don’t prey on groups. That's how it is with, like, wild dogs and stuff. I’m pretty sure ducks are scavengers. I could probably take one or two, but by myself, who knows?

I bet they know.

I bet they know exactly how many I could take.

Eventually, that was no longer feasible. I started only going out during the day. It wouldn’t stop them from watching, obviously, but at least there would be more witnesses, better visibility, etc. I tried to make grocery runs as brief as possible, but sometimes, you just have to do stuff that takes longer. Sacrifices had to be made.

No more haircuts. No more eating at restaurants, or going to the movies. My data entry job was going remote full time. Family and friends were only met in crowded, well lit areas for under an hour. And my boyfriend had to let me know where he was at all times. Growing out your hair at home, cooking your own dinner and torrenting movies is easy. It was the other stuff. I had some online friends, but it wasn’t the same.

One day, my boyfriend didn’t come home from work. The safety app we used said that his phone wasn’t dead, but location services were turned off, and he wasn’t answering.

I spent all day trying to get in touch with him. His work didn’t answer. It was a small office, and it closed when he went home, so maybe that was to be expected. But there was too much at stake. I stood glued to my front window for hours, watching the sun slowly set on our neighborhood. Eventually, the battery on his phone hit zero percent, and his last known location signal was all I had left.

It was dark, misty twilight outside now, and I couldn’t risk going to his office. I knew the ducks were out there. And they could tell I’d connected the dots.

They were slightly out of view, but I could feel those familiar beady eyes on my house from all angles. As the sun surrendered itself to the night, I could feel their presence. A handful of them. Maybe more. I squeezed my hand around the key on my necklace. I pulled forcefully, breaking the lock of the necklace. The tiny silver links glinted like tears as they fell silently to the carpet. Sweat stung my eyes.

The key unlocked the safe in the front hall closet. Inside was a heavy vest and a rifle. A rifle was obviously more of a hunting weapon, but I hadn’t expected to need a gun for close quarters self-defense. As if it was going to make a difference anyway. I definitely didn’t have enough ammo to take down a duck.

I finished packing my pockets with bullets and grabbed the helmet off the top shelf.

I slipped on my shoes and looked in the cracked front hall mirror. I looked terrible. Even through the distorted replicas of my face in each shard, I could tell I looked far too old. I’d long since given up on cutting my hair, and it matched a beard that was already starting to streak gray. I wiped sweat out of my eyes one more time and headed for the door.

There was a new scratch on the front hall window. It was deep, and it threatened the integrity of the last unbroken window. It didn’t matter. I was out of boards. What’s the point of a window if your enemy can inexplicably evade your gaze anyway?

I clenched the barrel of the gun tighter. I unlocked each latch from top of the door to the bottom. One more breath. I was going to miss him so much.

I wrenched open the front door and charged into the front yard. My battle cry echoed through the empty streets. All throughout the darkness, their roars echoed back in kind.

🦆

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