He is always watching me. I see his reflection in every mirror and window. There is no escape. He follows me everywhere. In the dead of the night, I am never alone. He smothers me with my pillow in the dark. He even meets me at school. I am astutely aware of him in the bathroom, for his thin, disgusting lips smirk at me in the mirror. His broad shoulders overpower me. I fear others will see my agony. They do not care. He has always been around but never so suffocating. Since my teenage years, I have grown more and more anxious about his presence. He haunts me.
They do not care. They know I am drowning, but they do not care. They say that we are happy as one. They say that we have to be together. They do not know how he strangles me, how he bruises me, how he makes me bleed. I must act as he pleases, or they will judge me and find me deficient.
He cuts my hair. It will never grow as long as I desire. My bitten nails will forever remain colourless. He insists they stay that way. He chokes me with his tie. I must wear asphyxiating clothes for his satisfaction. He forbids me to wear dresses or skirts. They are too revealing. I am shackled to him. I want to escape. He says that if I tell them, they will hate me. They have already sided with him. They hate me; I know they do. I hate him. I despise myself.
Once again, he finds me at school. He brings me to the bathroom. I am afraid. I cannot go to the other one. I am not like the others here. I look at my dark circles in the mirror, wishing I could cover them up. He forbids me to wear makeup; he says I should not even think about wearing it. He suffocates me with his cologne, and forbids me to wear perfume. He says it is not made for me.
I hide in a stall, but he forces his way in. I run out in a panic. In the hallway, they look at me with cold stares. They only see him. They do not see me.
He follows me up to the rooftop. My blood is frigid. My face is flushed. He reaches out his bony hand and grabs me by the neck. He crushes my maturing Adam’s apple. I can’t breathe. I look into his eyes. They are identical to mine. They gleam with despair.
To escape, she must die.
I must die.
His grasp tightens and she fades further. I kill her. Only his husk walks away.
My true self will forever remain on the rooftop.
When Eve L. isn’t pondering existential questions or procrastinating on her assignments, she enjoys writing about whatever comes to mind. She loves transforming pieces of reality into her fiction to illuminate hidden perspectives, hoping to create thought-provoking stories that resonate with others.