A Body Of Two
Madeliene Turner, Grade 10
Morphing into my own pale, frail skin. She stretches the bones gently, testing her strength with intelligent curiosity. In my mind, I see her cock her head and a slow, twisted smile rises upon her face. I watch as my hand moves, ever so slightly, in an upward direction. Her electricity flowing inside me itches so terribly for my fingers to brush against the keyboard. I can feel her burning need; yearning to write down the words, the thoughts, the immeasurable anger bursting within her. Her hatred swells like a roaring, ugly monster, rearing its mighty head and screaming words that would pierce even the bravest heart.
But only can she achieve her destructive goal by these shaking hands that belong to MY body. She cannot have a human body all to herself, so she has inevitably decided that I will be her hopeless puppet. There she goes, pulling the strings, making my hands move…up and up they crawl, inching towards the keyboard, trying to resist, but my efforts are worthlessly futile. My fingers, now her fingers, reach the lettered squares and despite my attempt to pull myself back, they began to skitter lightly across the letters.
My eyes, wide with terror, stare at the words appearing on the screen. They go through my mind and then strangely they vanish from my memory. I try to flicker my gaze back over the first few lines, but my eyes keep following the trail of words miraculously materializing on the paper.
I can feel her eyes becoming larger, larger, those opals of glittering hazel hard and cold as ice. My body shifts and her eyes start to become my own. I look at her in my mind for one split second; I see two gaping sockets etched on her face. I let out a gasp. What is she doing?
Suddenly, my entire body rocks and I am thrown forwards, my head hitting the glass computer screen. My eyes, her eyes, close. I see myself in my own head, like an eerie dream, walking into her white cottage room. We both stand still, regarding each other for a moment. Then like a bolt of lighting she runs at me and falls into my body. She becomes my body. I yell in pain and I am thrown out of my momentarily still corpse. I am like a drifting ghost; then I morph into her body.
I am her. She is me.
We open our eyes. I am in our head, watching her through the cottage room’s window. Her blood, her thoughts, her antagonism rushes through us. She has taken control of me. I watch her, like a useless ghost, as she moves every muscle in my body and continues to type her wicked words. I scream at her, bang my fists against the walls; but she has completely taken over my body. Now she has the authority over us and I am just the measly voice screaming in our mind.