The girl you used to know doesn’t exist anymore. They said she is dead but her body hasn’t been found. They said it’s been days they have been looking for her. A few days ago, they found someone who looked exactly like her. She was of the same height, with a similar skin tone and shoulder length jet-black hair. They thought they finally found her – the girl who was reported missing and some even said, dead.
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She was wearing the same smile, the kind that showed her teeth and hid her eyes. She also walked the same, in fact too similar. They said when they saw her; she was tottering down the alley whose walls the city recently painted pink.
She had the same name too. Funny last name.
When they saw her, they approached her and quipped she was alive.
She returned a puzzled look.
“She is dead,” she said, “she’s gone.”
“How could it be? You are she. Your voice, your laughter and your… your words. You sound like her. Everyone misses you. Come back. Where have you been hiding?”
“I am not her. She is dead. I have killed her the night she came home crying. She was too weak for this world. Everyday, her actions demeaned the person she actually was. Everyday, I watched her emotionally tortured by the past she couldn’t let go of. Everyday, she wished for a breakthrough but everyday, the same thing happened. She cried.”
“Crying is okay. Crying shows you’re a human. Crying means we feel.”
“No. It shows signs of weakness. It shows she hasn’t let go. She is still haunted by the ghosts of her past, who want to eat her alive. They chase after her like a pack of wolves devouring their prey. So I killed her that night. The crying stopped. They stopped haunting her. And now she’s dead. Look for her no more.”
“I am sorry… She’s gone.”
And with that, they watched her leave. They never saw her again. Some said they could still hear her hitting the black white keys, making music. Some said they could feel her sometimes and they missed her.
But her shadow has sailed away to somewhere far. The girl you used to know was gone.