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There it is again. That feeling that there’s someone behind me. But nothing’s there. The feeling is getting stronger lately. At first, I hardly knew it was there. Now, I can’t rid myself of this feeling. Even when I know for sure I’m absolutely alone.
Now there’s more to it. I’m sure I hear snickering. Or is that crying? It keeps me up at night. The sound keeps getting louder. It sounds like the noise is right in front of me, yet I can’t see anything. I feel like, whatever it is, it’s laughing at me. I hate it.
I’m seeing things now. I see some movement in the corner of my eye, and when I look, it almost looks like the outline of a person. That can’t be right, though, could it? No one’s there.
The outline is becoming more defined. I can definitely tell it’s a person, but there’s no detail. It’s just a blob of smoke-looking substance. It looks like it’s looking at me. In my crazed state of mind, I can almost imagine a sickening smile. It won’t leave me alone. It stands right in my line of vision, and I can’t help but look at it. No one else can see it. Even when it’s close enough to them that it could touch their face.
The person I see is a woman. She has long hair that, though it looks beautiful it also looks… sinister. I can tell clearly that she’s smiling, just as I thought. It’s not a joyful smile, though. It’s just as sinister as her hair. The way she looks at my family… I hate it. She looks at me, too, but differently. Almost as if she knows something horrible. Something I need to know, but won’t until it’s too late.
Her hair is bright red. She almost looks real. Everyone else can see her now. They think she’s beautiful. They think she’s nice. Apparently, they can’t see her smile. That terrible, knowing smile. If only they could see her the way I do.
She changed her hair. It looks like mine now. In fact, in whole, she looks like me. Everyone I know mistakes her for me. It’s as if they can’t see me. Not until I make myself known. It’s as if, before, I was never there. She has something to do with it, I know.
They can’t see me at all. I can’t get their attention, no matter what I do. They talk to her. They are none the wiser. They think she’s me. I hate her.
I look like her. Like she did before she stole my appearance. All that’s missing is that horrible smile. She still knows I’m here. Even if they don’t. She looks at me, as if rubbing everything in my face. “Look who I’m sitting next to,” she says with her smile. “Look who thinks I’m you”, “Look who loves me and not you.” She loves it. I hate it. I want my life back.
We’re alone. “Give me back my body,” I demand. “My life. I want it back.” She only smiles wider. She points at the mirror. I can't see myself. I'm only an outline. Just like she was. I look back at her. She waves goodbye.
Everything disappears.
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