I can see you.

I Can See You (03)

Flowers are restful to look at, they have neither emotions or conflict. –Sigmund Freud.

I picked up a few twigs from the ground whacking them into the empty air, the consequential noise given off made my eardrums hurt- the only sound other then leaves I had heard in some time.

I was still not completely sure whether to be afraid or to laugh. I made sure my facial expressions showed this, I deadpanned, heading towards her. Heading towards the little girl. My curiosity, once again, was starting to get the better of me. And once again, I felt all it would end up in me doing was getting hurt. By a girl. Again. I ‘hmm’ped to myself, as if. I would not let that happen to me again. It was stupid.

A part of me was bursting up with various thoughts and ideas that made me afraid. I had already established these facts to myself, for example, what if she was a vampire! Or a werewolf! Or a gremlin! I knew it was weird of me to think like this, but face it, anything is possible. Aliens exist. Dreams are real. The Loch Ness Monster exist (my best friend, Esme, saw him the other day! (but that is a different story!)) Anything can happen in this world. You can live a very ordinary life, sit on your bed, reading a novel. But there always something bad happening somewhere on the planet. Or the universe. Galaxy. Nothing is ever normal. there is no fixed definition to the word normal.

But then there was another part of me, felt ashamed. Embarrassed even, I was blowing this wildly out of proportion! She looked tiny, from here anyways. Why was I feeling so afraid, dumbo me. She was probably just a lost little girl, she was probably scared right now, and what was I doing. I should go talk to her, call the police or something.

But then something changed, the little girl moved positions; she was now standing on the railing and getting ready to jump. I felt a shiver when she hit the ground; if I had tried the same jump I would have hurt myself. But the girl landed as softly as a cat; approaching me.

I felt paranoia sweep through me...this was wrong in so many ways.

...

This was not like me. I thought I had changed. What was getting in to me?!  Why am I even here?! Had not I already learned from my mistake?!

To be honest...he is getting what he is asking for. Patience was a virtue, and patience was something this young fellow lacked. I knew I should probably just run away from her, never come back. But a part of me was telling we, where was the fun in that? I like that part. I liked fun. Everyone needs a bit of fun in their lives. No play makes a young girl mad.

.

5 years earlier:

Imagine:  A square room heavily made up. In one corner a small door, where both the door and the wall itself are painted in the darkest shade of blue ever...camouflaged, creating a sense of isolation.

Directly opposite there is a window...positioned slightly higher than a window in a bedroom should be placed. No fabric covers the window so you only see black. Black showing the night sky. 

The wall holding the window is dirty. It has been rusted and you can see the plastering underneath. There is blutack everywhere and to prove this a few posters of people. Maybe role models? Paintings, drawnings and pictures of the internet. Pictures of pale skined men and women with tongue piercings, men with long hair which cover their right eyes and look as if they have been forced to be there. 

The wall to the right of this is different. It looks normal. Again, its painted in a dark shade of blue, however it seems...cleaner. Half way across theres a small bed with a small bed side table to its left. Theres three drawers under the bed and again a hint of normaliity. They are all stripped half way open and you can see the contents inside. 

The wall to the right of the wall with the door, and opposite the bed, is a wall covered in its own wallpaper. It is covered in torn newspaper. Images af blood gushing, articles of war, murder and suicide cover its every inch. Very controversial topics. 

There is a chair near this wall. Placed carefully, isolated away. The room has a deadly feel and atmosphere to it. It smells like a dead old dog. The room is scattered with clothes, books and litter. This again adds to the slight hinting of its normality.

...

The child lays head first on the mattress of the small bed in the square room.

She shuffles moving from one direction to the other, three times in ten seconds. She then takes a deep breath and sighs. Giving up she sits up straight on the bed and folds her arms staring directly ahead...at her chair. She thinks about life and her family. She thinks about school and her bruises. She thinks about exam stress and finally she thinks about herself. 

She takes another deep breath and unfolds her long arms to pick up a comic from offa the floor besides her bed. She grips it tightly then lets it drop. Waiting there for exactly two long minutes which seem too last longer than forever, with her hands still outstretched she remembers the horrors of school today. 

Small tears trickle gently from down her cheeks and as she is bending down, a few drip on her arms. She feels this and takes a long breath in. Quickly, seeming as if she just had a quick adrenaline rush, she positions himself back on the bed. 

She again lies head down against the pillows of her bed. She uses her right arm to grab another pillow and puts this over the back of her head. She untangles her left and now has both arms free. She then takes another deep breath from under the pillows and allows both her arms to tightly collapse over the back of the pillows, adding force to her head. She pushes on them both and pushes again. 

She is struggling to breath, so she shuts her eyes and sleeps. She is in an irreversible coma.

...