I don’t have a name for the thing that happened to me, but I don’t feel safe any more.

Kindred by Octavia E. Butler

I can't walk a single place without looking over my shoulder--left, right, left, right. There is always a crook in my neck by the time I make it to my destination. I have gotten into the habit of rubbing my neck over and over, like someone just hit me in the nape with a dart. My eyes are sore from peering over my glasses. I could walk straight, look forward. But I don't feel safe any more.