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A Mission

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Do you see her? Yes, that girl there. See how she manipulates the ground itself to make her step. Her hips glide in harmonic rhythm as she walks, a lovely blank stare painted on her face. It’s all fake. People don’t see it. Hell, I had to tell you for even you to see it. She is popular with many people. Everyone likes her, how can you hate her? It’s all fake. How is it fake? What’s fake? Everything you see. Her make up, the black eyeliner that is supposed to hide her fear. HA! She is afraid of everything! The clothes, they are meant to keep your mind from seeing what has gotten her into so much trouble. Her hair always different showing the rage she feels. If you break it down she is ugly, dirty, and repulsive. And she knows it too. You don’t see it?! Well your not supposed to. That’s my job. They say everyone is here for a reason. My reason is her. He, himself told me all about it. "Do what she is scared to do.” I have heard the same voice tell me that every night since I can remember. The same dominant, strong, and demanding voice. I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t know who "she" was and what “she” was afraid of. That I had to find out. I made it my life’s mission to find her; I knew she would come to me. I had seen her in the hall many times the first few days of school, but I never looked at her. One day though I knew. I woke up that morning to a sharp pain that stabbed my head as I fell to the floor. My thought were disorganized, everywhere in my head. I now remember thinking,
"This day is going to suck.”
I was wrong and right. I was at the field house, slacking it as usual. I looked up and saw her. This was the girl the voice was talking about. Ours eyes locked. She seemed to know me as well. That’s how it started. Something in me forced me close to her. That’s how "we" started. I became more that a friend. I was her lover. In these months we were together I found out what she was afraid of. Death. She wanted to die. It was my job to make sure she did it. Suicide is what she couldn’t do. I would have to do it myself. I as if I could go over one night. I said I would only be there a minute. As she opened the door for me I looked at her and said,
"Its time.”
She lowered her head. She didn’t cry or scream just shook a little. I held her and guided her to the bathroom. I slowly forced her to her knees. Putting my hand on the back of her head, I took a deep breath, and plunged her head into the toilet. She didn’t fight like you might think. A few minutes later I laid her out on the bathroom floor and left.
"I have completed my purpose.”
I wrote on the piece of paper laying on my desk. With one last look around my room, I kicked the stool under my feet to the ground. Your wondering why she is walking around the hallways huh? Well, I didn’t kill her. She started spiting up water after I left. See that’s why I'm talking to YOU right now. YOU have to do what she is scared to do.





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