My body

“What do you mean?”
Travis asks, after a few moments of staring at me with wide eyes. I sigh in exasperation, as if this is all so simple, as if this kind of thing is a common occurrence. But it isn’t. This is big deal, and I just don’t seem to understand that. I’m filled with too my adrenaline for no particular reason, probably from the high of finally telling someone about her after two years of keeping it a secret.
It feels lighter.

“Exactly what I said! There’s a dead girl in my head!”

“K you need to sleep Ally,” He says, standing and grabbing one of my arms as if to pull me up.
She takes over for a split second.

“Don’t touch me!” She growls through my lips, making Travis quickly bring back his hand, as if my skin had burned him. His eyes were wide again, my sudden ferocity taking him off guard.

“Sorry,” He mutters, sounding embarrassed. I stand up, shaking my head.

“No, don’t be. It wasn’t me. It was her.”
He gives me a look of confusion, not understanding what I mean.

“Who?” He inquires, half looking around as if he expects to find someone else standing in the room. Had he already forgotten what I’d told him? Or was he just pretending I’d never said it at all.

“Her!” I roll my eyes, grabbing his shoulders. “The dead girl. The one in my head.”

“Stop it Ally! What the hell is wrong with you?” He finally snaps, stepping back, letting my arms fall to my side. My eyes are wide, and her anger Is flooding through me. I force it back, knowing it’s irrational. There’s no reason to be angry with Travis.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. I- I don’t know what came over me,” I mumble, taking a step back, my legs bumping the couch.

“Wait… you’re serious?” he asks, raising his eye brows. I nod, feeling ashamed now. How insane does he think I am? How many kids at school was he going to tell about this? I suddenly dread going tomorrow, worried of peoples reaction to this, because it just goes right along with the pencil incident, making me seem even crazier.
“Ok Ally, explain to me what you mean by dead girl?”
His response catches me off guard, but this is my only chance to prove to him I’m not crazy.

“There’s this girl… and she- I don’t know- lives in my body? It doesn’t seem like she’s always there… or at least if she is, she’s in some deep, dark part of my mind. Anyway, she can take control of my body. It’s not me I swear. And it’s not multiple personality disorder. Because I can talk to her. I’m stronger then her, so sometimes I can push her back, or stay half in control. Multiple personality disorder isn’t like that. She’s her own person.”

“And how do you know she’s dead?” He asks, his expression controlled, the only emotion portrayed across it was curiosity.

“I’m not certain… I had a dream, a few days ago. She was in it. It was her, I’m sure of it, she was so familiar. In the dream, she was dead. It was obvious. So I figure she must be dead,” I say, shrugging slightly. There’s another detail I’m forgetting.

“You… you said she was your best friend.”
Oh yeah. That.

“I did?” I question, trying to sound confused. But now I remember saying it. Now I remember the dream so clearly, I remember letting the girl go as she sunk further into the freezing water. I remember the cold body, sprawled across the banks of the icy river.

“Yes.”

“No I didn’t!” I suddenly growl, the force of my memories making me furious with him for remembering what I’d initially told him a few minutes ago. Travis raises his eyebrows.

“Are you sure-“

“Yes! I’m sure,” I state, staring him down as best I can without being too rude. He sighs, rubbing the back of his head, messing up his already untidy brown hair. He walks past me, falling onto my couch.

“Prove it.”

I frown, “Prove what?”
He rolls his eyes. His arms are resting on the back of the couch, his posture so casual. He gestures with his hands expectantly.

“Prove she’s there. Prove to me you aren’t a nut job,” he says the last few words cuttingly and I think his intent is to irritate me. I fold my arms, putting my weight on my left leg.

“I don’t know how…”

“What do you mean? Just let her take control.”

“No! Are you mad?! She stabbed you in the hand! Why would I let her hurt you!” I cry, staring at him incredulously.

“She won’t stab me,” he insists, as if when she had a few weeks ago didn’t matter. I continue to watch him, with the same stunned expression on my face.

“I’ll try… But I’m not sure if I can…”
I let myself relax, closing my eyes, and easing back into my mind.
And within seconds she’s there.

She opens my eyes, making them wide as she watches Travis. A smirk spreads across her face. She steps forward, examining him like a hunter examines their prey. Worry flashes through me, but she shakes it off.

What if because I’ve let her have the body for this time, I won’t be able to get it back until she lets me? She could butcher Travis and I won’t be able to do anything.
She leans me forward, so my face was only inches from him.
We can see the fear in his eyes, which was either there because he believes I’m really gone, or because he thinks I’d really lost it.

“Ally?” He says quietly, unsurely. The smirk returns, and she glances at his neck, detailed images flashing through my mind.
She imagines all the damage she could do to his jugular with my nails, imagines the blood covering my hands, oozing down his chest, spraying onto my face.
I want to gag, but she doesn’t let me.

I think he catches onto what she’s thinking, because he presses his body against the couch, trying to gain as much distance as possible. “Are you Ally?”
My eyes return to his.

“Would it scare you more if I was?” She asks, speculatively. His eyes stay on hers, but I can see the nervous expression he’s trying so desperately to hide. He remains silent and she grins.

“Are you Ally?” He repeats, his voice not managing to stay quite as steady as I’d hoped. Because I’m worried that if she realizes how truly terrified he is, she’ll be more willing to hurt him.

“No.” She answers, raking my nails down his cheek. He shouts a curse word I don’t catch, and springs off of the couch, knocking into my right shoulder, sending my body tumbling back. She hadn’t been trying to kill him, only freak him out. But she’s still done some decent damage, because as he heads for the door, I notice the blood dripping onto his white shirt.

“Wait!” I call, my desperation forcing her back into the darkness of my mind.

“Hell no,” He snaps, not evening looking back, wrenching my front door open.

“Travis!” I call again, following him onto my front lawn. He still ignores me, heading to his car. I run after him, not sure if I want to completely catch up, because in this state, he might hit me.
“Travis, wait!”
He stops, turning to face me. He has one of his hands over the cuts, but blood is still dripping through his fingers. His expression is hard, and I wonder if there is any fear left in him.
“I’m sorry.”

“You’re insane.”
His words sting, and I bite my lip, tears welling in my eyes again.

“No I’m not,” I defend, taking a step back. As if the further away from Travis I get, the less his words will mean. He holds his hand out that had been covering his injuries, revealing his blood covered skin.

“That’s not insane?”

“I didn’t do it!” I cry, hearing my voice crack. I didn’t! He told me to prove it, he told me to let her out. It wasn’t my fault.

“Yes you did-“

“You told me to! You told me to prove it! You told me to!” I shout, my grip on reality fading fast and I’m worried she’s going to take over if I’m not careful.

“I didn’t tell you to attack me!” He argues, walking forward. I curl my hands into fists, anger surging through me again, along with the hurt tears.

“I didn’t attack you! She did! Didn’t you listen to anything I told you?!” I ran my hands through my hair, tugging from the roots, her insanity leaking into my veins. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I finally admit quietly, backing towards the front door.
My hands are shaking, and my breathing sounds forced.
I turn quickly, running through the door and slamming it.

I curl up on the couch, folding my arms, my bloody nails digging into either arm. I sit there quietly, trying to calm myself down, trying to get everything I’m feeling in check.
Suddenly the door opens and Travis walks inside, clutching an open bottle of beer in one hand. He takes a swig, watching me silently, his eyes guarded.

“You’re telling me you didn’t do this?” he asks, gesturing to the cuts, the blood smeared around them and I guess he tried to clean them up while he was out there. I nod, hugging my knees to my chest. “You’re saying the… dead girl did?”

“Yes.”
He takes an abrupt gulp of beer, as if to drown away the situation. He walks over, dropping down beside me on the couch.

“Tell me more about it. About how it works,” He demands, looking at me. I can already see his sobriety disappearing.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve told you all I can. But it’s not me, I swear,” I mumble, looking him in the eye. He gives me a speculative look, drinking the alcohol thoughtfully. “Why have you been sober lately?” I blurt, my eyes widening as soon as the words leave my lips. Travis laughs, examining the bottle for a moment.

“The day you… she… you, stabbed me, my mum came to the school. She’s never caught me when I’m high or drunk, but one whiff of me that day… and she knew. She threw away all the beer she could find in the house. I didn’t have any drugs there though,” He explains, so casually. I nod, not really knowing how to reply to that. He stands up, walking to the door. He opens it, about to step outside.

“Travis?” I call quietly, feeling worn out. He turns back, appearing to be just as weary as I am. Maybe that was just the alcohol taking affect.

“Yeah Ally?”

“You…” I pause, biting my lips, “You think I’m crazy don’t you?”
A lazy grin spreads across his face.

“A little. We’ll have to continue this chat tomorrow, k?” He says, and I’m not sure that I want that. I’m not sure that I want anything to do with this drunk. But I’ve let him in on the secret and the thought crosses my mind that if I don’t do as he says, he might announce my secret to the whole high school.

“Alright,” He starts to go out the door. “Oh Travis!” He looks at me, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“No.”

“Prom-“

“I promise.”