Warmth spread through by back as the hypnotic rubbing calmed me. She had returned again, on time as always. 12:10 blinked from the clock next to my bed, burning it's ghost into my eyelids.
By now my tears had dried and a sense of calmness enveloped me. I turned my head to her and saw a concerned smile on her face.
Her golden blonde hair was held tightly back in a bun. One curly strand fell beside her crimson brown eyes that sat above her slightly bulbous nose. Her skin was pale almost as if she were a white ghost. She could be, it make sense. But why can I feel her?
I had long since stopped trying to communicate to her. I attempted a conversation when I was nine years old, three years after her first appearance. I always talked to her about what was hurting me, but I hadn't tried actually talking to her.
When I asked her a question directly, she instantly evaporated, straight into thin air. The same way she appears.
I never tried again, for fear of her disappearing.
I lay until my eyes drop closed and I feel her rubbing stop. Soon, I fall into a fitful sleep full of yelling parents and hands smacking children across the face.
YOU ARE READING
From Bedroom to City
SpiritüelFor six years Marissa has been visited by a woman. This woman has comforted Marissa and helped her through the toughest parts of her life. But when one moment goes to far, the woman grants Marissa biggest wish - to leave. While the two run free toge...
