Is It You?

I am 23 and from a small town. I don’t like this place. I feel congested here, some horrid memories of the past. Is it you? I don’t want to go back, so it’s a good thing we are now moving to a new place.

Last night, we settled in this new place. It looks beautiful, but a strange thing happened to me. A girl in white clothes was standing in front of me in my room. I put a blanket on my face, but as soon as I uncovered my face, there she was, standing and staring at me. I think I know her, but I might be wrong. This is plain bullshit. I guess those old boring stories about a woman in white are getting into my head.

I still remember your beauty. You were simple and innocent. You thought I was a cheat. No, I was not. Yes, I am a murderer. I didn’t mean to hit you that night. You were depressed and were not taking your medication. I cared for you, but you didn’t trust me. It was you who locked Jasmine in a cold storage room and chilled her to death after decapitating her. It was you who incinerated Alisha after sealing her mouth with a needle and thread. You were so merciless, yet guilty. You were so blind in love that you committed suicide in hopes that after death you could be with me all the time.

Last night, a fan fell on my chest while I was asleep. It hurts like hell, but the strange thing was that the room was still cold without a fan. I can’t understand what is happening with me. Am I going mad or what? But when I looked clearly, there was something in white sticking to the ceiling, coming down slowly onto my chest until I saw it was no one but you. Now the time is 4 AM and I still can’t get out of this limbo that you have put me in. Please don’t torture me. Please don’t take my life. I confess that you were crying when you held my hand on the way to the hospital, hoping I could save you. It was not a suicide, you murmured. You slipped and fell unconscious. You could’ve been saved, but I became mean at that time. I suffocated you with my bare hands. You didn’t rebel, but I saw an unfamiliar gaze in your eyes. It was I in whom you had more trust than yourself. I must be punished.

Please take my life and free me from this burden. But don’t stay with me. I am scared. I am really scared. I can’t move; I can’t sleep; I can’t eat; I can’t feel. I am suffering with paralysis, but you are not letting me die. There is a burden I always feel. Whenever I open my eyes, I see the face with the dark eyes staring at me, consistently, always sitting  on my chest. It is you.



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