Twist it

Amata always went by this one rule: twist it. As strange as it may sound, for her everything had to be morphed to be acceptable, to be something she could enjoy.

For her, the mere fact that she couldn't twist herself, made her extremely upset and wanting to do anything but accept the reality.

All the time she would see people on the streets being twisted: being it the death of a pet, the fight with the significant other or even pure craziness, and she would hope to become this way someday; to be someone who feels real and breakable.

But she wasn't and she couldn't change that fact; all she could do was just make sure other things get twisted, other people's souls get hurt, other animi losing the little to no meaning behind their existence.

But what is animi, you might ask. Animi are many things- they are feelings, they are mind, and they are spirit. They are just creatures with no real objective, left behind unfinished by the one who had the nerve the create them.

Animi are on the earth but they are hidden in the air, the heart and the soul and their real and only goal is to make people wonder about the 'What if's in life, about unknown places, mysterious disappearings and other things they might never find out.

Amata, herself, was concealed behind the surface of a young girl. Unfortunately, the girl, Sally, was not one of those humans that are liked by the ones who surround them. The dark-haired book lover, with glasses too big for her face and clothes too big for her frame, always tried to hide herself. Amata, on the other hand, hated that. She wanted to be free, to be alive, and to be able to do things so she would seem like a real person. All she ever hoped for was to have a normal, human life. So, since she couldn't get that, all she was left with is to pray to that God who didn't care enough to make her whole and also, to envy. Oh, did she envy. Poor Sally was the center of her cravings, her dreams and her thoughts. She didn't know if that influenced the girl but she couldn't care less for someone who spent their glorious life as someone, hidden behind a massive read.

Every day was filled with the same emotions, lessons and activities or, more like, the lack of those and Amata felt as if she's being trapped and getting more lost and forgotten by the day.

Not that she was ever considered known to begin with.

So whenever she felt like Sally was trying too hard to be invisible, she would use whatever power she had over the body of the girl and make her just a tad bit braver. Sometimes brave enough to try and cross the hall without having at least three panic attacks. For Amata, not only that nervousness was suffocating, it was also the never-ending voices in that human's head. It seemed like she had another two hundred animi in her mind, even though as much as Amata knew, you were supposed to be the host of only one.

Amata also couldn't understand the girl cutting her wrists and pulling her hair,it seemed like Sally couldn't feel the pain, as if she was numb to everything. But the animi in her was far from that, Amata was so delicate that every slit on the wrist was an agony to her. It was what she truly wanted but she didn't realize it, then. She didn't comprehend that Sally was twisting her, just like she was twisting the little girl.

For that strange creature, Sally's behavior was too complicated to be understood because she didn't seem like one person, she seemed like a million ghosts changing their places and haunting that shell of a body. She was so easily breakable and replaceable that it made Amata even angrier.

How could this uncontrollable human be able to twist herself but Amata couldn't?

How could this unpredictable child be able to break herself and feel alive, while Amata was only taking in the pain without the final result?