Her hand strikes my face again, the slap cracking through the summer night silence, and I take the smack proudly. She can hit me all she wants; I know my non-reaction will just piss her off further.
“Sister Julie is going to have to deal with you.”
“I’m shaking in my boots, Marge.” She grabs a fist full of my dark hair and drags me through the woods. Twigs snap beneath our feet as frogs bellow by the creek; it’s honestly quite peaceful. Her grip on my hair is painful, but the tightness of her fingers against my roots makes me feel rooted in reality. It reminds me that I’m real, that I’m still alive.
But when she yanks at my hair and shoves me to the ground, something snaps into place inside of me. The caged animal that’s been wanting to see the surface is finally coming out to play. I want to smile, but my body convulses. It’s not painful, and despite my body’s reaction, whatever is happening to me feels rather peaceful.I wonder if it’s the end.I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad about dying. I guess if I have to go, at least I won’t suffer anymore. But I won’t lie about being disappointed that I’ll never get to truly live. Maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for me. Maybe I wasn’t deserving of a full life.Isn’t that some shit.
Marge looks down at me wide-eyed, I suppose in horror, thinking maybe she caused me to have a seizure. My mouth opens wide, and it’s like I can finally breathe, even though my body is begging for air.
“Stop it, get up!” she yells at me like I have any control over what’s happening.
The skin that’s confined me withers away, and I’m left whole.
Or maybe not.
I look down in horror at my limp, pale body on the cold, hard ground. Marge looks down at me with fear written over her features. Maybe this is some sort of exorcism or out-of-body experience. Whatever it is, it feels good.
The darkness surrounding us should terrify me, but it gives me some comfort as I look at my lifeless body on the ground. Marge is screaming dramatically, and I just want her to shut the fuck up.
If I’m a ghost, than this is seriously fucked up that I’m stuck on this plane, having to continue being around these people. The beginning shock of seeing myself dead, or what I presume as dead, wears off, and I realize that I’m not completely lacking a form.
I’m not a ghost, but I’m not quite sure what I am.
I’m most definitelynota person; I’m not even shaped like a person. I’m basically a cloud of imposing black smoke. There’s a large rock next to my body, and I go to touch it, but I seep right through it. Everything feels confusing, and my instincts drive me to attach myself to something. Even though I have no clue what I am now, a survival instinct takes over me. I need…shelter?
There’s a fear that ripples through me, and an eerie sensation of delusion consumes my senses. It’s like I can’t think straight, and nothing feels right. I need something… I need to make this feeling stop. Madness is starting to fill my mind—do I even have a mind anymore? I need it to stop.
Marge is doing a very weak job of trying to resuscitate me. I focus on her lackluster motions when suddenly I hear athud-thump, thud-thump…like a heart beating. Herheartbeat. How the hell can I hear someone’s heartbeat? How can I hear at all?
It’s almost as easy as breathing, the way a tendril of my smoky form glides over to Marge, and I slip inside her mouth. Her wretched noises cease completely, and the next thing I know, I’m looking down at my new form. I’m no longer smoke. Instead, I’ve taken over Marge’s body, and when I see my old, lifeless body, it’s through Marge’s eyes.
There’s a tingling sensation, and I assume that’s Marge’s way of telling me she’s still here with me, but I ignore her completely. It’s odd being in her body; I hate it, but my instincts demanded that I do this. I needed something to latch onto. I’m not sure what would happen if I just stayed in my smoky form, but I can’t imagine it would be good.I really felt like I was about to spiral into something wholly evil. Marge wouldn’t be my first choice, but it’s all I had to work with.
I’m not sure who or what I am anymore. But I know with Marge’s full adult body, more options have opened up for me. I look at the fifteen-year-old girl I used to be; I was pretty, at least, I thought so. I push back the dark hair I once called mine and kiss my cold forehead.
I say goodbye to the person I was because there’s no time to mourn or panic over the situation. All I can do is move forward. So that’s what I’ll do, even if I now have to walk in Marge’s hideous sneakers and have a hideous half-bob haircut. I’m definitely not going back to the camp. There’s a weight around my waist, and I dig around into Marge’s fanny pack, finding her ID, credit cards, and car keys.
With her—my—car keys in hand, I jog with purpose to the parking lot to find Marge’s old Chevy Malibu and unlock the doors. I’ve never driven before, but I figure it out quickly enough before finding myself at some shitty diner in the middle of nowhere.
I order a ridiculous amount of food and eat. No one seems to notice that I’mother,that this isn’t really me, that I’m wearing someone else’s face. I’m not sure that this feeling of not belonging in this body will go away or if I’ll ever have answers on how this happened. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I feel free.
I look at Marge’s reflection in the back of the spoon I’m holding and grimace. I wonder if there’s a way to switch bodies. Maybe hop into someone who is hotter, less cunty.
A man slides into the booth across from me, he’s got to be around Marge’s age. He’s unattractive but confident as he sits across from me and folds his hands on the table. His clothes are plain, just a black shirt and jacket. His face is covered in pockmarks from having acne or picking at his face, and his dark blond hair has streaks of gray and could use a good washing.
“Um, did I say you could sit down?” I ask; it’s weird to hear Marge’s cringey mom voice.
“No, I don’t suppose you did, Mara,” he says, making my eyes go wide. I have to make a quick decision: do I lie or stick to the truth and hope that this man has some answers?
“How do you know my name?”
“I’ve been following you for a while now,” he states.
“Well, that’s not creepy or anything.”
He shakes his head, and the waitress brings him a coffee. She gives me a reassuring look, letting me know if he’s creepy they will take care of it. I give her a nod in recognition.Marge absolutely has pepper spray in her fanny pack, and I wrap my hands around it as the man continues to speak.
“I didn’t know when or how you would manifest. It’s good that you were this young,” he says, looking over Marge’s form.Ew, does he think Marge is hot?I’m going to throw up if this creepy old dude thinks he’s getting some with Marge’s body.
