Untouchable

It was about a week after she had been in my apartment, but nothing had changed. I couldn't forget it, as much as I tried. I was walking out the door when I found a tape outside my door. I picked it up, forgeting what I was going to do, and played it.

I'm sorry.

The sight of her made me jump.

I'm sorry I chose you to give those tapes to. This isn't going to be very long, but I just want to reassure you that I'm gonna be okay.

She knotted her fingers together, staring at them.

I'm going to try to be strong against her, and tell people who can help. I'm also gonna go to the hospital, and see what they make of me.

She sighed, as if a weight had been lifted.

Sorry I've freaked you out. Bye.

And she turned off the camera. I felt relieved, but something didn't seem right about how she talked.

A few days after I watched that video, I saw something, somewhere. I kept seeing little things, everywhere. Like clues in a scavenger hunt. A poster on a telegraph pole, a woman looking out longingly, as if waiting for a miracle to pass by. A police car and an ambulance, outside an old sullen church. They carried something out, on a stretcher, a light, clean white fabric showing only the silouette of a very small figure. When the ambulance drove away, it had no lights, no sirens, just silent, drifting like a ghost.

When I went home that night, I watched the video again, looking closely. I saw that she wasn't knotting her fingers, but crossing them guiltily. I never really knew what happened, why she wouldn't be touched, why she always mentioned "her", and said that she could hear her, and feel her. In every breath, in every single motion. I tried to imagine it, but couldn't. I tried to feel empathy, but couldn't.

I don't think I will ever understand what really happened to her.