Who Is She; Going Back
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It was a fairly nice day, cold to the touch but warm to the bone, as she sat on her bed looking around. It was the old familiar story. Clean clothes scattered about in piles on the floor. Magazines and celebrity clippings sprawled across her desk, and a lonely lap top sitting atop a tangled mess of blankets on her bed. It’s a common perception that a messy bed room often means a messy life or vice versa. She wonders about it now. What’s so messy in her life that causes the little things, such as her bedroom, to be so unorganized also? Nothing specifically comes to mind.
For a while she sits by her window on a little swivel chair staring into the abyss sunshine now streaming through the tiny room. But when a sudden noisy car flashes past, she is awakened. Numbly, she rises from her window perch and climbs carefully into the bed. The warm water in the mattress quickly thaws her apparently frozen limbs. As she reaches for her lap top a black notebook secretly tucked underneath her dresser in the corner, catches her eye. And as curiosity killed the cat, she swiftly pulls the hidden notebook from it’s hiding place.
Once again sitting on the warm bed, she looks the dusty object over. Slowly she begins to remember what it is. Carefully dusting it off, the cover reveals its bumpy texture and golden letters. She smiles here. Her soul. She closes her eyes and feels the black duct tape, and cold metal spiral binding under her fingers, and smiles again. She had forgotten about this. Upon her opening her eyes, she studies the golden letters on the cover spelling out, “Her Soul”.
Taking a deep breath, she opens the book exposing the first page. Dusty and yellowed, the title reads, “Who is She?”. Upon reading this, the notebook was slammed shut. A dust cloud following. Tears apparent in her eyes, she throws the old book to the floor where it slid perfectly underneath the dresser again. The tiniest corner of its black duct tape cover still in view. Running from the room she screamed ‘”Devil”! And was found hanged in her garage only two short hours later.
Days later, her devastated parents, though divorced, were found crying in each others arms on her ice cold water bed. Though still plugged in, the bed’s movement was silent and cold no warmth ever to be found again. After hours of tears and “why’s”, her mom noticed the black notebook under the dresser and reaches for it. The metal binding was hot to the touch, though the room was under 50 degrees. And as her mom opened the book to the first page, the cover began to sizzle and pop, melting as the stench of burned duct tape fills the room. Frightened, her mom dropped the book to the floor and the pages began to rip out, burn and fly across the room. Within minutes all the remained was a single page. Written word for word exactly as this story began.
She sits here day after day. Waiting for something to happen. Broken and opened again and again. She looks around her room messy as always. A pile of clothes, clean of course, in one corner, a pile of dirty in the opposing. A bare manican looks down at her from across the room. The red wig on top is tangled mess. CDs stacked against a wall, disks mixed within, some open with disks missing, the jackets no where to be found.
She listens to the wind outside her bedroom. Howling and whistling, daring her leave. Rain pelting against the window, like the hands from hell, "Take me", "Run away", "Come here", and "Save me", they scream and whisper together. She sighs and turns away. Shaking her head she whispers to no one, "Why do I do this to myself.."?
Some things, just aren't meant to be answered. Looking about the room once again, she notes everything still needed to be done. Pick up, vaccum, make bed, sort this, throw away that...the list goes on and on. Looking in the mirror she realizes a huge zit near her mouth. "Great, really attractive.." She says aloud. Rolling her eyes, she makes more notes. Zit, nails, laundry, shopping...She stops. Another sudden impulse to write.
Slipping to her computer she quickly opens up WORD, and types the first things that come to mind. And as quickly as they came, they stopped. She looks about her room to get inspiration. Mirrors, mess, rain, boredom, confusion, and more comes to mind, but she ignores everything. Overused. Another sigh.
She looks at her phone. "What am I doing?" She thinks. Glaring, she throws the phone the other side of the room. Smashing against the wall, she has to smile. Her mind finally blank for a moment, she suddenly feels as though she's going to hurl. Running from the room, she begins to cry uncontrollably. No reason.
Her eyes felt a hundred pounds each. She could feel her pupils rolling around beneath the lids. Her lungs begged to yawn but couldn’t find the energy to open her mouth. The humid air suddenly seemed to deprive her nose of oxygen. Slowly she lifted her head a few inches from its perch upon her arm.
The room was dark and cold. Blinking, her eyes quickly adjusted to the light, as a small tear tumbled from the corner of her eye, down her cheek to the bed below her. Finally yawning, she laid her head back down upon the bed. It was cool and soft.
Closing her eyes again, she thought of falling back to sleep. But as the room went dark all she could see were her eyes. Dark, forbidding, and dangerous. The mysterious pair of patina green eyes surveyed her from behind a dark shield of cloth.
She felt afraid, but couldn’t move. Her own eyes seemed to grow wider and wider till they actually pained. Her jaw was clenched tight, praying for her eyes to blink. When suddenly it was white. Everything. It was all gone. She wasn’t in a room, on a street or in a plane. Time stopped. Her brain stopped. Her heart slowed to nothing. Her breath was silent but she was alive, without existence.
But she was being watched. She couldn’t see it, she had no eyes. Couldn’t feel it, her senses, her human reflexes, everything was gone. She existed in a haunting dimension of fear and nothing. Her soul was a figment of a wild imagination created through those eyes. The patina green devils. She knew she was safe, after all, what was never created, is never endangered.
Her eyes were wide open staring into an expansive abyss of daydreams and nightmares. She was tired, but even more so, she was bored. French class on a muggy Friday afternoon. In 30 minutes she’d be free from this whore of a teacher, from this haunting classroom and its annoying occupants for a few days. But before that could happen she’d have to sit cramped in the corner between over weight Barbie dolls and materialistic punk rockers.
The familiar squeak of her teacher’s voice woke her out of her mindless day dreams and she realized she was staring at him. His incredibly beautiful blue eyes with they’re haunting and dazzling grey spots. His luscious red lips and soft brown hair. He was quiet but incredible.
Then, the temperature dropped. Not a couple degrees. Not twenty. Maybe forty. The hot humid air seemed to turn to ice within seconds and she was choking. Gasping for air, he looked at her. There was a fire in his eyes. She felt a lust and hate for him all at once. Her heart tightened and throbbed in her chest as she stared back at him. Looking around the classroom life was the same. No one seemed to notice the temperature change.
His forehead dripped with sweat and she longed to feel his apathetic lips upon hers. When suddenly. She was fine. The temperature went back to normal. She was breathing normal again. No one had even noticed her dying. She peeked nervously about the room noticing her friend sitting a couple seats away watching her carefully. She felt him reach out to her gently placing his hand on her arm, asking if she were ok.
Normally she would have smiled at this. But as his fingers touched her skin, it began to burn. Her right arm sat aflame as she stared in shock at it. His fingers fled her skin, aware of her fear. But he had touched her left arm. She felt finger tips cold as ice placed upon her right arm still. But they burned and she could smell the flesh sizzling. A loud popping sound arose and she felt herself weak and dizzy. She wanted to cry and scream but she was terrified.
Looking up He was still watching her. The fire in his eyes stronger than ever. He blinked and it was gone. The pain, the fire, the sizzling, the scorching, the smell of burning flesh. Looking down at her arm there was a perfect imprint of a hand wrapped around her wrist in a bruise. Her friend stared at her in a horrified shock. She felt herself floating away. Blinking, she was in a bathroom stall crying. She could hear water in the sink splashing over the sides in pools and waves. She was terrified. Blood poured from the finger print bruises upon her arm.
All around her was blood and water and tears. But looking up, was her French teacher. Angry she repeated her question in French and pointed at Him. His beautiful blue eyes staring back genuinely concerned.
A sharp, cold metal bar upon her cheek woke her from a sound slumber. Looking around she remembered where she was. A tiny cramped room with four tiny cells in each corner, and walkways between each. Each cell contained 8 people. Sighing, she glanced at the others in her cell. All of them white, looking tired and stressed. No one familiar though. The cell was so congested no matter how small you made yourself, your arms and legs brushed up and twisted against those around you. There were no seats and the ceiling barely reached six feet.
Holding onto the bar she tried to focus on the outside world through a tiny window between her cell and the one to her right. As far as she could tell it seemed the cell was below the ground except for maybe a foot. Suddenly there was a loud click and the chamber door opened. In stepped a young man under twenty. He had short brown hair, a little curly with green eyes. Standing at least at six feet, he was skinny but strong.
He looked around kind of nervous, but sure of himself. He was looking for something, or someone, though she wasn’t sure if he even knew who. He began to walk around the tiny room, his long strides stopping short of her. He stared at her. She was sure he had the same look as she did.
She knew him. At least she used to. He spoke softly to her. “You look familiar.” Rolling her eyes she forced her back to him. “So do you.” She spoke confidently. He watched her again for a few moments, then walked away, leaving the chamber in silence.
She could sense everyone in the room staring at her. Somehow she didn’t care. A wave of exhaustion came over her and she thought she could have collapsed if the cell wasn’t so crowded. After a few seconds with her eyes closed, she opened them back up to find herself riding a bike.
Confused she looked about, tripping on the petals and tumbling to the asphalt. A young kid zoomed past her on another bike screaming out words of disgust. She recognized him from the jail. Climbing back on the bike she noticed about 30 others on bikes pedaling fast, away from the jail. She followed eagerly noticing everyone running in opposite directions.
She heard a male voice scream out “You!” and glanced behind her. It was the man from the jail. He was on a bike and catching up fast. Voices all around her were echoing “And this is where we die.” Voices from bodies of all shapes and sized. Hundreds, maybe thousands chanting the lines over and over. She felt herself getting dizzy and tired again.
Slipping off the bike she collapsed in a pile on the road. Two young boys standing on her either side. The man from the jail appeared in front of her, staring down at her. A blank expression on his face. She saw a flash of metal out of the corner of her eye and looked over in fear. The boy on her right was holding a gun.
She screamed no but nothing came out. Her throat ached from the scream, but no sound was heard. The boy aimed the gun at the road. There were hundreds of people walking. It was a free way but instead of cars, there were people. They all stared straight ahead and walked alone. The roads crisscrossed like something from LA, but it was silent. No horns, brakes or even whispers arose.
A loud shot echoed in her ears as she blinked hard. Not another sound was heard. But a thick, warm liquid dripped upon her lip. A sweet yet bitter taste she’d never forget.
There it was again. That ringing. She couldn’t tell how loud it was anymore. It was always there. Distracting her thinking. Driving her insane. It made her angry. It made her cry. It made her scared and nervous. It made her so dizzy she couldn’t see straight. It made her rip up A+ homework, and hang up on her best friend for no reason.
She knew it was in her head. It wasn’t real. But every time she heard it her eyes would twitch and tear up. Her legs would shake, and her breathing got heavy. She tried time after time to control the spiraling emotions and turmoil, but she couldn’t. And when she didn’t succeed, it would make her angrier and sadder.
She knew she was breaking down. The ringing was killing her. Driving her to insanity. But just before she’d do something drastic, it would stop. It would drive her to holding a gun to the temple or a knife to the neck and it would stop. She’d stare blankly at anything. Her breath would cease and her heart would slow. Every few minutes she forced a swallow, her eyes burning from not blinking. Her lips slightly parted but no air passing through either way. She was dead. And when she finally blinked, the ringing would begin again.
It was a loud evening for a midnight stroll. There didn’t seem to be a soul in sight, not a car zooming by nor a house light on, but sounds echoed through the valley. Sounds of parties and crazies. Drunken men singing, old women screaming, male teens cat calling to giggling females. Sounds of mufflers and exhausts and endless chatter and laughter. Frightened screams in alley ways and gunfire in drive ways.
The noises echoed and bounced around her, teasing and manipulating her. She considered adding her own childish screams to the clatter but refused to let in. But the eerie emptiness of the streets sent cold chills down her spine and added shadows of sweat to her face. She glanced eagerly down every road, behind every bush and up every tree searching for a single soul in this disturbingly empty town.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in a heavy sigh, letting the air out slowly. Upon reopening her eyes she noticed the moon. High in the sky, a full moon sat staring blanking down on her. Its unforgettable glow of bloody red’s and oranges sent more chills of fear. Nervously taking seat on the curb she rubbed her hands down her arms trying to warm herself. After a few moments she realized it was a warm night and she wasn’t cold. The windless air had her mind racing. Peering through the trees she watched the moon carefully. Her imagination soared and twisted into the night.
A light scraping against the pavement caught her attention with a start. Immediately breaking her focus she searched for the culprit. A single leaf tumbled along the path beside her. Staring for a moment as it staggers past her; she notices no breeze to help it along.
Concerned she reaches for the leaf, holding its lifeless body in her palm. Standing she watches the trees in hopes for the tiniest breeze. More eerie emptiness surrounds her. The absence of life but the clutter of sound spell bounds her. So much as to she almost doesn’t notice the leaf continue its journey as it dives from her palm and floats away in the windless night.
Walking to the middle of the street, she looks back up at the moon; swirls of white’s and blues had replaced the reds and oranges of its glow. Another light scrapping against the pavement catches her attention. Noticing once again no breeze, she spots another leaf coming towards her in the road. Suddenly another appears. And another. Frightened, her feet melt into the concrete, and she’s unable to move, engrossed by the leaves appearing out of air and from the road and stumbling towards her. Sounds from behind her take her interest again and she observes leaves lurching towards her in packs from all directions.
Her planted feet fight against her urges to run as the leaves fly up into the air, encircling her and twisting about her. Faster they fly till she can’t see outside the ring.
Suddenly, they break out in flame, flying faster and faster, the heat burning her skin and hair. Her breath quickens and struggles to maintain oxygen. She feels herself choking within the heat and flames, feels her eye dribble a thick liquid as they roll back into her head. When suddenly she’s weightless. She’s not floating, but she’s not standing. And as quick as it all happens, the burning leaves go out, turning to ashes at once and falling to the ground around her. Within this second, she looks up to see headlights from a car staring straight into her eyes and not slowing.
She felt the cold ashes fall upon her skin. They charred and burned her hair, leaving scorched marks and bruises of red and blue. Even so she continued her walk down the tracks. It was a beautiful day. Bright and sunny, fluffy white clouds smooth as cotton, a cool breeze she cherished. Birds chirping, hidden in the surrounding trees. Everything was bright, colorful and happy around her. But looking towards her feet it turned cold.
She could still see the colors and smiles to her sides, but the train tracks her feet stepped hard upon felt like slivers of ice and glass cutting her feet. An eerie fog seemed to rise from them in the distance. Her heart felt cold and slow as she watched her fate, but she continued anyway. Worrying about the ashes appearing from thin air, she thoughtlessly reached for her camera. She felt her cotton skirt cut against her leg like cold shards of glass.
Her pace slowed, she was starting to get nervous. The tracks were leading her out of town into a nest of dark trees and unknown surroundings. Looking back she realized she almost couldn’t see the town. But looking forward, everything seemed black and white. Mostly black. The hills in the distance seemed dangerous and forbidding, and the trees packed closely together seeming to stare at her, daring her to continue.
Without considering otherwise, she kept walking, glancing this way and that, searching for more of nature’s beauty she could steal. Spotting a tiny bird sitting atop a small stone she stopped short watching. The bird’s eyes flicked back and forth between her and something on the other side of the stone. Walking carefully around to not disturb the bird, she noticed a tiny puddle on a fallen leaf beside it. A small drop disturbed the liquid and she looked around wildly for the culprit. But no rain, no tree above or anything was found. Just the lonely bird staring into it. Another one fell and she realized the bird was crying. Abandoning the camera she went to the bird, whispering softly to it.
He stared at her in anger. She got the impression she should walk away and not look back, but as curiosity killed the cat, she could not. Continuing cautiously, a burning sensation suddenly filled her body. She gasped for air, coughing up blood, as she fell to the ground.
The bird hopped off the stone and walked proudly up to her. Still staring his eyes would not leave her own. She was scared of this bird no bigger than half her fist. It was a bright blue with fades of black into the wings and tail. Spots of a bloody red danced around his neck. He was beautiful. His eyes of pure black seemed almost innocent somehow.
She felt herself growing cold, her skin sweating beads of ice. She realized she was no longer breathing, her eyes open and frozen in the moment. The pain had ceased. And so had she.
Just another calm, boring summer day. The temperature outside was reaching high 90s, and inside just above 100. She was stripped down to a wet bathing suit, her pony tail high off her shoulders. Walking in circles around her house for the 20th time, she noticed a gap between two floor boards she had never seen before.
While every piece of the wood floor was closely connected, these two boards were at least a centimeter apart. She wondered how she had never noticed this before, but figured it was against the wall in a corner, somewhere she wasn’t too often. Standing above the crack she peered down seeing a pair of bright green eyes staring up at her. She let out a small shriek, shocked at the view.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself she looked over the crack again, but nothing was there. Grabbing a flashlight she peered down, noticing the hole was deep. Maybe 10 feet and continued beyond the house. Confused and curious she pried at the boards with a screw driver. Once they were free she realized just how big the space was. Dropping down almost 15 feet below the house it was a cement floor and walls. Sitting on the edge, she considered going down but wondered how she’d get up. Just then she kicked something against the wall. Looking over with the flash light she was surprised to find a ladder. Laughing nervously she climbed down.
As she reached the bottom and looked around, it frightened her to find the room continued on into a black hole of nothing 50 feet ahead. It was completely empty. The walls and floor was smooth cement. Not a crack or imperfection anywhere. Taking a few steps into the dark room made her blood turn cold in their tracks. “Ring, ring”
She looked around, her eyes wide open. Where did that come from? The hole she had come thru seemed a tiny square, the day light streaming down straight thru forming a perfect square right below it. But she knew the sound had come from not the light, but the dark. She considered leaving, but thinking of the heat and boredom outside, and the cool and mystery down here had her turn back around.
After walking for close to two minutes, she still had not found anything other than darkness and temperature drops. Turning back around she couldn’t even see the light from the outside, it was black. Looking forward, all she could see was black. Suddenly the ringing was back. It wasn’t louder nor fainter though. But it kept going. And it kept going.
It started drive her insane. She got dizzy starting tripping over her feet, falling to the floor in a weak mess. And the ringing continued. Suddenly she arose to her feet. She felt strong, and heavy. She felt angry and content. She was no longer cold, and no longer warm. She wasn’t bored, nervous or scared. She felt hate like never before.
Her eyes were a red mess, her hair tangled and dry, falling to the floor in chunks. The ringing was continuing still but she stopped noticing. She couldn’t hear it anymore anyway. Her eyes begin to pain and she blinked hard to stop it. When suddenly, something hit her feet. It was a thick liquid of some sort. She smelled death in the air and realized her flash light was gone. The liquid began to rise quickly. Within a minute was up to her ankle. She twisted and turned not in fear but in anger. She tried to run something, a warm hand, was grabbing her feet and scratching her ankles. They tripped her and she splashed into the liquid. The bitter sweet taste of blood filled her mouth and burned her eyes.
She tried to rise again but the hands continued to claw at her body holding her down against the cold cement floor. Blinking through the blood and murk she spied the hole she had come through directly above her. With hope she pulled again, but the hole began to disappear as though someone were replacing the boards with her drowning below in her own blood and idiocy. The darkness overcame her again and one last tug knocked her temple into the hard floor below. The summer sun was burning her alive.
It was just another day, not warm or cold. It was November and almost three years ago to today. It started odd, hanging out with some friends before school that morning, dreaming of her newest crush. When suddenly he messaged her, asking to meet him, a certain time, a certain place. She came immediately but the day tore on and no sign of him. Her hopes melted as this goody-goody girl turned quite the opposite in a few hours time. Her high grades tumbled within minutes of the day starting, her friends fought and left her in the dust. She was kicked from class and in and out of trouble. She felt herself dying and not understanding why.
When finally she saw him. But suddenly, he didn’t make her world light up. She sensed things she’d never dreamed of. And thus it all began. Some could say she signed her soul to the devil. But he wasn’t the devil. He was a mortal figure of no good. He brought her hate, lust, and death. Three things this girl was not accustomed too.
She tried to run from these feelings and emotions that scared her, and she trusted her instinct. But already he had taken control of her and smiled as she screamed and tried to run away. She felt herself drifting away, disappearing in lies and betrayal. Scandals created to destroy her very being. But soon, it didn’t matter. She was gone, her heart was crusted over with dried blood and ashes. Her wrists dripped with aching torment. She flashed through her days numb, hoping for some way out of the hell he had created.
She lost everything she loved about herself and gained everything she hated. Her heart became nothing to anyone, including herself. Her brain melted into the discovery of hate, lust and death. Her body became a punching bag for everyone around her. She taught herself to love what she hated, and hate what she loved. Inside she twisted and turned and screamed for help, but no one came to her rescue. At the point she deserved everything she got.
She ran down every road and every path beaten and unbeaten, running from herself and him. She tried everything to get away. Planes, busses, running, pills and knives. She turned to drugs and alcohol and long lost ideas so manipulated by her mind she flung herself deeper into this peril. But soon, her legs wore out, and her lungs snapped, her heart burned itself out and she gave up. She broke down.
She kept herself alive reliving memories so worn out and over created nothing was real. Lies twisted themselves up inside her reality, so far, she became nothing. She couldn’t remember how to smile, how to laugh or even how to cry. She was her own lie. She was nothing. Her once simple yet fragile mind was a fragment of hate and disgust. And at every lie she created, she lost something else.
And one day, she woke up. She lost the last thing, the last thing keeping her alive. And she grew. She grew strong on her lies. She thrived on the one thing she hated. She bent it all in her own direction and became him. But then it kept breaking down on her. How could it not. But she pushed on, determined to beat herself, to beat him. And she did. And these are her stories, her soul, lost in its own fate determined by one wrong choice.
These are her stories. These are the stories of the reality she saw, she created, she became.
Angel By Day,
Angel By Nite.