Nowhere Girl

The First Warning

Nora's eyes felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

She had been staring at her computer screen for hours on end, and it had been staring right back at her. Opened in front of her were just two tabs- a submission page, and two poems.

She had begun working on her submission for the competition as soon as she had gotten home from the park with her brother. Initially, she had thought that the work would come naturally to her- after all, she had a piece written already- but the task proved to be much harder in actuality. Privately transmuting your most personal thoughts into the written word was one thing; allowing foreign eyes to judge them based on their own preconceived notions was another thing altogether.

That was why, after hours of overzealous editing and procrastination, she hovered over the send button. There were two poems she had in mind, and both were dear to her- but only one could make the final cut.

The first one was centred around her imagination- something frivolous she had written in the months prior. The second one, though, was something else entirely. She'd written in one of her darkest hours, weeks after her step mother had died and the family had very abruptly moved to Singapore. She opened the file, staring at the poem.

Through My Lens 

I see the world

Through the lens

of the written word.

I envision

a crumbling building

as an old man upon a hill

a twilight sky

as the blooming skirts

of a primordial entity.

I see them so clearly

and yet

I don't see them at all

I see them so clearly

and yet

when I open my eyes

the crumbling building

is a crumbling building

and the twilight sky

is a twilight sky.

just like that,

the illusion breaks.

I am left

fumbling with a reality

that is bleak and bitter and bare

without my magic lens.

Nora lingered on the last word. Was it even worth sending? She was to stick to the traditional rhythms of poetry, so the poem's lack of rhyme bothered her. But it had come to her in a sudden burst of inspiration, and she felt it had heart. 

Still, she thought. It was far too personal to send to a school wide poetry competition. The only person who she had ever shown it to had been Jem. For all his faults, he did know her best. She would be mortified if another read this work of hers. So she closed the document, and opened up another- an older poem of hers that did not ring as harshly as this one. 

She gave it only a precursory read before submitting it to the email. She had even made a small prayer once she had hit send. Right after that, her phone chimed. A message from Jem. 

Sorry about how I acted yesterday. 

Nora sighed. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, itching to type what was truly on her mind. 

I just wanted to help you. You're destroying your own life , and now, maybe even your sister's. Unless you change yourself, no amount of 'sorry's' will cut it. 

Instead, she typed:

It's fine. Just listen to what I said before, or atleast give it a try. 

She hit send. Jem replied promptly back.

I will. 

Nora hesitated over the keyboard once more, before she wrote back again. 

I just sent in my poem for the competition. 

The one you showed me before?

No. God, no. That one was too much. I sent an older one instead. Do you know what you're sending in yet?

There was some silence on his end, after that. Nora waited several minutes before she received his terse answer.

I have an idea. I'm working on it now, I'll talk to you later. 

With that, Jem left the chat, leaving Nora to focus on her more dry tasks- her ever increasing pile of biology reading, for one. The subject matter came easier to her than chemistry or physics- if only because there was less thinking involved and more mindless memorisation. 

Still, she though as she opened her book, that fact did not make her work any less daunting. Nora flicked through it and arrived at her current chapter- and frowned. 

A torn piece of paper had slid from between the pages, and landed in her lap. 

She picked it up, and opened it. 

It was a newspaper clipping, yellowed around the edges with age. Nora's grip on it tightened when she saw what was written on it.

Local woman killed in car crash in Tivoli neighbourhood

Sunday, June 21st- The Innsbruck Federal Police Department reports that a 42 year old woman has died of injuries resulting from a fatal car crash in the Tivoli neighbourhood. Authorities have identified the victim as Elena Sayafi, mother to a son and step daughter, who were also travelling with her on the day of the crash. 

Below the article was sprawling, handwritten message. 

I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, MURDERER.