Day 5
The Ghost of a Girl:
She didn't want to be noticed. She was the kind of girl that never raised her hand, barely looked up in the hallways, and didn't know where to sit at lunch. She never "belonged" or had a "group."
Her mother loved her too much and her father too little, or so it seemed. Her house reeked of bleach, and she wore the same pair of jeans every day. Her clothes never fit, and her legs were never big enough. Food never touched her.
Her breath smelled of bile, and her teeth were never clean.
I remember her once running her hands under hot water with a blank look in her eyes, lost in her own mind. She gazed over, unchanged expression. Walking quickly back into the dining room. Trash can full.
She was growing smaller so that only the wolves might keep noticing her. But I still did.
She kept going, though, despite her spirit lingering slowly behind as if it didn't want to catch up. Just a few steps behind her shadow so that she always was empty.
We were fading even then, I realize now.
I just didn't want to be anymore; she didn't want to be anymore. I was doing her a favor; I told myself every day. There is no need to follow closer to her or fill her up. She wants to be empty.
So I remained my few steps behind and gazed at her in the bathroom doorway. I tried to make her let go. I wanted to fall away forever but she never faltered. I was always just a few steps behind.