Ghost Girl

This story includes content such as, Death and Dying, Grief and Loss, Emotional and Psychological Abuse, as well as Spiritual Themes.

Ghost Girl

I see the angels waiting for me, but I still follow you wherever you go. To school, the market, your mother’s house… There’s no question about it, I wish I were there in my true health. Not like this, not in spirit but in full. I wish I could have expressed how I felt before I was put this way. I don’t want you to wonder, to go over the day over and over, guessing how I was feeling. I want you to know and have closure, or perhaps feel close to how I do.

I remember the shock on your face, how your skin lost all its color and then suddenly turned a harsh red. I screamed words I now regret, and you were at a loss, hurrying away from me. You didn’t want to see me anymore, but now here you are, looking at me that way, holding my hand. You cry while you speak, but I hear nothing. Monsters don’t cry, but instead, I imagine you saying, “Happy Birthday,” and “Congratulations, I have a surprise for you.” I imagine you telling me how much you’re enjoying your new class or what plans you have for the future. I pretend that’s what you say and respond as I would have.

I really wish it wasn’t this way, but I see the angels waiting for me. They watch day and night in the corners of this hospital room. It’s not a daunting presence but a calming one, which scares me even more. Because when I leave, or if I leave, it wouldn’t be so bad. I wouldn’t feel as upset as I should for leaving you here without me. Their glow is bright, their clothes modest but rich. They wait to show me what’s better.

If I stay, I’ll be thankful for what you did for me, but I could never really tell you. If all I could remember was the day we met, I would have no problem. I lost my keys, and you helped me find them when back then I was only a stranger. To say “thank you” then would be easy, but we’re not just strangers anymore. Years later, we would be much more. In fact, you would call me yours.

Hearing you sing to me and give me words of encouragement would make it easier to say, “thank you.” Because back then, what I needed to hear, I heard it. You don’t do the same thing anymore. It’s now, though, that makes me worried. Because I don’t want to be in the wrong with God. The angels tell me without speaking to forgive before I go. I know it would be the best choice for me to make, but when I see your face, I want to vomit. I find you a disgrace. I follow you anyway, though, because what other secrets do you keep? Who else do you plot against? Who else do you watch as they sleep?

To think, before I didn’t know. My end, I had forgotten. Following you around in spirit as if I was your dog. The leash you had strapped on me even as I’m walking towards death. The degrees meant nothing now because it seems like I was always your fool. Whatever I read, whatever I accomplished, you only used as your tool.

I left the hospital when you visited last Tuesday and rode in your passenger seat. You’re not sobbing anymore, you’re fine. You’re about to grab something to eat. The place we used to go out together. You ordered the same meal. This time, you didn’t ask what I wanted but it didn’t seem to be a big deal. You then stopped by a convenience store…the one where we happened to meet. You purchase a couple of items, then pass a girl my age and wink. It doesn’t take too much now for you to cause my heart to sink.

We’re driving in your car again but now we arrive at home. You’re burning pages of my books; you throw pictures in the fire. My hair you had hidden, I didn’t know was missing. It’s cut off in plastic bags, your laptop is open, you put it up for sale. You’re saying words mixed up, I don’t know of, there’s darkness in your eyes. I don’t know what you are, so I sit. I once called this being, “mine.” I wish I thought more through it. No one but me knows of this crime. I look you in the face and scream, “You hated me all this time!”

I punch the walls, break down possessions but you notice not a thing. My parents come over to watch you grieve. They haven’t seen the signs. How do you do it? How do you lie? Without feeling a sliver of guilt. I wish I knew; I wish I could kill you but no, I choose instead to forgive you. An angel watches, this time with more warning. They wonder what I’m doing. It’s almost time to go. Get right. It’s almost time for moving.

So, it wasn’t all that bad, I try to tell myself. You did give me a good few years. I have to admit that. I remember these things and try to forget how it all ended. I forgive you; I do. I know of my task, but I know of all the cries. I remember every moment. Your torment and calculated plan. I love you, no, I hate you, but I’m grateful for the person I thought you were. The lovely smiles and scripted adventures, oh how great those were. How you grew close to my family only to take me away from them…for that, oh how I’m so glad. Your manipulation, the concentration you had on your subject when they had to leave the house. I’m so grateful, so glad…you made me this way. So glad it’s done. So glad you ended it. I’m so very glad. Thank you.

With Love,

Yours Truly,

Ghost Girl