Day 2,173

 They're awfully expression for beings that don't actually have faces. The smooth blank skin where a face should be on a human doesn't so much as twitch on them, stiffer than a marble wall and twice as pale. Imagine a group of eight people like this following you from the train station to right outside your home and that's been my life for the past eight weeks.

First few weeks were rough, not gonna lie there. The constant fear of wondering what would happen if they caught up to me and who were they and why were they following me in the first place took a real toll on the rest of my life. Every night I thought they'd catch up to me and kill me.

Then one night, about three weeks into noticing them, I finally got caught at a traffic light and had to wait five agonisingly slow minutes for cars that didn't even seem to notice my followers. The followers that also stopped several paces back. I continued to test them for the rest of my walk, finding that even if I ran at them they would do everything they could to keep their distance.

They stopped being so scary after that and were almost a comfort until they left me a note telling me to change my route back home or they wouldn't be able to protect me from the amassing Efenlæ. I didn't listen to them the next day and they paid for it when arms covered in mouths shot out from the shadows and tore them apart.

I don't think I've ever run so fast in my life. 

The news never reported their bodies but the next evening there was still eight of them. I change my route whenever they tell me to now, without question or complaint. Even if it takes me hours to get there, at least I'll get there without causing someone to die.