She was my entire world. I couldn’t go a day, a minute, a second without thinking about her long, golden hair, or her perfectly peach lipped glossed lips. I wanted to feel the hair intertwined within my fingers once more, the glistening gloss on my own lips.
I slammed my hand into the mirror hanging next to me, the frames littered with tiny cutouts of this perfect girl. I didn’t want to feel this way, she was gone forever, but I did. As I sucked the blood from my knuckles, I cried out, “Why? Why do you do this to me?”
A voice inside my head whispered back, “Why do I? You do this to yourself!”
“No!” I screamed, running around the room knocking over everything I passed, “Get out of my head!” I swung my already injured hand back behind me forcefully into the wall, as if it would help. The hand had a buildup of scares from the many times I’d cut it before.
“But you’re the one who wants me so bad,” the voice hissed into my ear.

Now she was mocking me. She left me, and she accuses me of being deranged? I grabbed my coat and grasped the cold metal door handle, turning it quickly with my wrist doing a sharp snapping action.
“Later I’ll get you back,” she whined, “for destroying my room.”
I had to stop going in there and reliving the times when she had graciously sat on the little pink cushion seat, brushing her locks of shining hair with the thick brush. I had always stood in the hallway, silently admiring her beauty from afar, not to disturb when she was getting ready for our nights out.
She had been so sweet before the incident. We had cuddled in bed, me lovingly caressing her hair and pecking her small forehead. I’d bring home flowers and she’d squeak with excitement each time, as if every new petal was the best thing given to her in her entire life.
Walking around the streets, I still felt the cold air skipping up and down my spine. She was still there with me; she never left me, even when I tried to live on in my normal life. It was kind of romantic, in the sense that even though she left she’s always here, but it was driving me mad.
The feeling of someone lightly rubbing their fingertips over my face attacked my entire body, and I stopped in the middle of a huge crowd of foot traffic. People pounded on me from all sides, complaining rather loudly and colorfully of my actions. How was I supposed to continue when she was forcing me to shudder all over?
Another little murmur sounded in my ear. It said, “Go back to the house, now.”
Almost as if there were a microchip in my head controlling me, I turned on my heels and continued back. She was some playful creature, letting me leave but then forcing me right back. She was playing with me, her own personal doll in the game of life. This woman I loved was ruining my life.
Walking inside the front door of our- or my- tiny house compacted in a block with millions of similar houses filling up the neighborhood, my head began to spin and my heart started thumping fifty times a minute inside my chest. I saw myself in front of me, translucent, stomping up the stairs calling, “Maria, Maria? Where are you my love?”
I shivered, my arms shaking by my side as I recalled what happened next. She was making me relive the day she left me. My feet being drug across the carpet without my consent, I flew up the stairs following my past self. “Oh Maria,” he still rang out, “Darling? Why must you hide?”
He came to her chamber door, and I stopped behind him. Smirking slightly, he jiggled the door handle open and slipped inside. I was rushed along behind him, barely making it in before the door slammed behind us.
She was sitting on the little pink cushion, stroking her hair as usual, smiling into the mirror. Both of my reflections could be seen behind hers, but I was the only one who could tell that. “Oh silly Maria,” he laughed, “Why don’t you answer my calls?”
I grimaced. We used to be so happy before that, calling to each other and being so chipper all of the time. We had to the perfect life, yes we did. But then her paranoia got the best of her. I tried to close my eyes, shield them from what was to come, but it felt as if iron hands were pulling them open on my face.
Maria sitting there silently just smiled at her own reflection. He was moving behind her, trying to get closer to her. He took his steps deliberately, heading to the back of his lover, but when he was at least three steps away, she snapped around.
“Do you think we’ll last forever?” she spat, almost in an icy tone, “Will you be with me forever?” His eyes widened in surprise, and he stumbled a bit back. He blinked, shutting his eyes for a few moments, and opened them to her again. She was standing now, gliding closer to him.
“Of course, my love,” he swooned, “Why else would we be so happy? This is what love is, this is what was meant to be.” She grinned again, and fluttered her eyelids in a flirty matter. She was right in front of him now, and she ran her hand up his chest until she was holding him on the back of the neck.
He looked a bit surprised. This wasn’t his normal sweet Maria with a voice that could melt the wicked of hearts. I turned my head, trying my best to avoid this horrible reenactment of the worst day of my life, but the iron grip jerked it back towards the scene. I certainly couldn’t miss the most exciting part.
“I do love you,” she crooned, tugging at his ear with her teeth, “I love you a lot.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in closer to him. She laid her head on his shoulder, folding her delicate fingers around his satin tie.
“As I love you,” he reassured, kissing her lips forcefully, and beginning to grope for the zipper on the back of her flowing evening gown. She kissed him back just as much, and began to play with his belt. He started to steer her backwards towards the large bed, finding the zipper and starting to pull it down her extended back. Suddenly, she jerked backwards from the kiss. I cringed.
“This is why,” she said hastily, reaching for the tie again, “I must do this.” He began to open his mouth to say something, but she was much faster than him. Clutching the tie, she swung it around her head and locked it on her neck, twining it around until it was one layer thick on the tender skin.
He cried out, scratching at the knot at the shirt collar, but it was much too late. Her face flushed blue, and she sagged in his arms. He began to sob, untangling the tie she had given him last Christmas from around her fragile neck. Holding the bobbing head in his hands, he kissed her all over, trying to bring his sweet Maria back to him.
I finally was released from my steel grip and turned away. Fresh tears ran down my own face, leaving bright red marks in their place on my cheeks. The scene around me began to fade away, and I was back to the dirty room filled with broken glass and pottery. The tie still lay on the ground where I had left it.
“That’s for the mirror,” she crooned, using the same voice she’d used that night, “don’t break my things, darling. I don’t like messes.” She was so cold now; it was destroying me having to listen to her every time she spoke.
Smooth fingertips ran up and down my shoulders. My life was a mess; I couldn’t escape the thing I loved most. I couldn’t get past the fact that this thing that was following me wasn’t the thing I loved most. Why had she doubted my love? Why had she done this to me and herself? She’d gone mad, and now was punishing me for her insanity.
“This is ending,” I whispered to myself, heading over to the closet. Her voice rang out, singing some show tune from one of the late night comedies we’d watched together in her huge, fluffy bed. Ruffling through old boxes, I found the small oak one I needed. I ran my finger over the smooth wood, and opened the latch. A small pistol gleamed up at me.
“Stop!” she screeched, “You put that down!” This time around it was she the one who was distressed. I picked up the cold handle, and raised it gradually towards my mouth.
Stony wind whipped around me, shaking my arms that were already uneasy to begin with. The few remaining items that were still intact slammed to the ground and banged against the walls. The closet began to quiver and the clothes whipped out and began flying around the room.
I felt cold metal on my lips.
I felt the icy trigger on my finger.
I felt the whole room tremble, her voice still screeching behind me.
I felt the bullet fly threw my head.
The light in my eyes was fading, but I fought through the red, syrup like liquid pouring into my mouth and purred, “She you in he** my darling.”