Identity

In a mirror, a ragged, freckle-covered face shines back to a pair of cold, topaz eyes. Brilliant streaks of red cover her cheeks as well as several crimson splotches on her dress. Tears fight their way past the brims of her eyelids, pushing dirt from its path as it makes a downward journey. You did well. He deserved it. It had to be done! Voices hiss inside her head, and the room whirs into a spinning motion as she clamps blood tarnished hands to her ears.

When the voices and the spinning room come to a halt, she drops to the floor with tremors overwhelming her body. Shaking, she climbs up into the tub and turns the knobs to allow warm water to fill the bath. She runs her hands under the pouring water and watches as it taints the water, changing it from its crystal clear state to a murky reddish brown. She runs her hair under the faucet, allowing mats of mud and blood to be swept from the tangles.

After the water begins to return to its previous state she climbs out, wrapping herself with a white towel, she goes to her room to put on clean clothes. She opens the door with hesitation; inside she hears barely audible crying and reveals an eight-year-old Analiegh slumped over on her bed, covered in dirt and with twigs caught in her knotted brown plaits.

“Why?” Her voice is weak, looking up she reveals swollen eyes all red and puffy from crying. Analiegh continues sobbing, unable to suppress her fear.

“They told me to,” she replies to the crying girl as she points to her head. “The voices in my head, they told me to. Please don’t tell anyone, it has to be our secret.” Romie walks over to the other girl, embracing her in a hug. “I promise we’ll be okay Ana, it’s too late to change anything now.”