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The Little Red Woman

By Melancholic Pen All Rights Reserved ©


The Red Woman

The Little Red Woman

We started talking a couple of years back. I can't remember exactly when but I do recall those days when we just started to talk. At first I would avoid... it. Much to my annoyance, or bad luck, if you'd like to call, it wouldn't stop talking to me. Everywhere I went it would follow me, whisper to me, sometimes even yell. So I finally gave in. I didn't know what it was or what it wanted from me, or whether it was just me going insane, slowly succumbing into the the world of madness. But I began to speak to her.
It was a cold October afternoon. I have driven upstate and found a beautiful spot. I was sitting at the edge of the cliff enjoying the wonderful view of mountains in the distance before I finally leap to my death. I imagined how many missed calls from my mom I had on my phone right now. How many worried texts from my sister. All that didn't matter now... or did it? It was hard to think since it kept bothering me with its endless string of words. I felt my skin indent on my arm as the being poked me. "Hey, you're not gonna jump, are you? What will happen to me if you're gone? Hey, don't do this to me, mate. I know you don't wanna die. It's because of me, isn't it? Fine, I'll shut up for once. I'll go super quiet, I swear. Only if you promise you're not gonna jump." I furrowed my brows in annoyance. Couldn't I get a single moment of peace before my death? I turned to look at it.

"What do you want from me?" I said my first words to her. She didn't reply immidiately of course. She looked at me baffled, not knowing what to say and even  more struggling to cope with the fact that I spoke to her. "Nothing, actually." Wow, that totally answered my question. Was she there for the sole purpose of annoying me to death? I wouldn't know. I was too tired to think. All that was on my mind is I wanted to end it all. How did I keep it all to myself these days? I haven't talked to single person about her. Probably because I knew what would've happened if I did.
It isn't hard to predict. I wouldn't go to my parents for help. I would go to someone at school - they were more willing to listen to my problems than my parents. Not that my family doesn't love me but I knew them well enough to say that they don't sit well with the idea of mental illness. Especially with a straight A student with me. Apparently to them that's a sign of a healthy mind. Like I said, the idea doesn't sit with them very well.
After I said something to people in school - they would have no other choice but to call my parents because surely I've gone far enough to get proffesional help. And since I'm under 18 - I'm going to need their permission to see a doctor. More Melodrama. My mother will deny all the symptoms I have. My sister will order me to read the Bible more. My dad wouldn't get a clue of it. Was I better off just sitting at the edge of the cliff? I mean, without jumping and all. I was used to it's nagging by now, but coming here, it seemed more... peaceful. Like I had less pressure on my shoulders. No high expectations from parents, nobody from school telling me what to do - just me... and it. I started to get angry at that fact. Why couldn't I be alone for a second? Why couldn't I have a few last peaceful moments before I leap? I felt like I was going through all fie stages of grief at once. I let it walk all over me for a year now. It was my turn to demand something back. Even though I expected to be reacted to by a cackle of laughter.
"Wow... you actually said something. Finally we can go somewhere from here now-"
"Shut up! Just shut up! Can't you just leave me alone? Can't I at least get a last wish? I get it. You won. You have finally driven me to the point where I want to kill myself. Can I get one moment of silence? Please? Or do you have to make my death torturous as well?"
"What...?" It sounded so innocent that I wanted to throw up. I know what a vile being it is. I couldn't tell what exactly it had in its mind but I didn't want to be anywhere near it.
"What are you?" Her eyes were black drops of pure innocence. She hesitated to reply, showing part of her bright white fangs. But those weren't the most noticeable features of her. She was dressed in a black leather jacket and knee high boots and had skin as red as a tomato with two massive batlike wings stretching from the back. I was amazed at how human she sounded.
"I am you." she replied.

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