Year 2004. (six years old)
While Malia was playing with the pieces of paper, trying to fit them together, her mind went back to the street where she saw the girl. The face of the girl. It were hér eyes. The empty look in it, like they looked straight through Malia, as if she was air. Her mouth was smiling, but nevertheless there was dripping blood out of her ear. Malia remembers how the drops of blood landed on her shoulder and how it formed a blood stain on her t-shirt.
A few days after the first time Malia sees her again. The whole left side of her shoulder was now covered in blood. The t-shirt had a rust colour.
'Mom,' said Malia in panic, pointing at the girl.'Mom, the girl, she's back.'
Her mom puts the car at the side of the street; her face turns pale as she screams at Malia.
'That's not funny, Malia. Do you hear me? There's no one there. Stop it, now!'
'But she is..'
'Shut up! Do you hear me? Shut up!'
Malia starts crying.'But mom..'
'I don't want to hear those things ever again. You can't see anyone, because there isn't anyone! Stop that, right now!'
But every day they drive through the same street. Sometimes the girl is there, sometimes she's not. But Malia now knows she has to turn her head the other way and say nothing.
YOU ARE READING
A W A K E | c.t.h.
Fanfiction"why am i drawing dead people?" "why am i seeing dead people?" "what's happening to me?" - "i'm here. it's gonna be okay."
