She is everyone, and no one. She doesn't even have a name, because every day she is in a new life. She doesn't know who she is...or was. All she knows is the pain of these other girls, these living girls, the suffering girls.

She wants to know who she really is...but what will it take to find out?

WARNING: This Movella contains rape, bullying, suicide, abuse, self-harm, and other sensitive elements.


2. Elizabeth


I find the article soon after my day in Jessica Rayne’s life.


Teen Girl Takes Life, Town Devastated.

Jessica Rayne, a junior at Sparrow’s Hill High School, took her own life on Monday morning.


I don’t read the rest of the article. I don’t need to. They’re always the same. The community mourns the life of the passed girl, the family is distraught. Funeral, memorial, survived by so-and-so. Such a sudden and sad tragedy. Who would’ve thought?

I’ve seen it so many times. Somehow, the news always finds me when one of my girls passes away. I don’t even try to look for it. It just pops up, as if to say, Hey, look! Remember her? She’s gone now!

I feel like a failure every time.

Jessica. Lacey. Poppy. Kylie. Britt. So many girls, and many of them died within a week after I saw their lives. Not all of them died by suicide. Kylie was beaten to death by her drunk father. Poppy was murdered while trying to earn some extra money for her starving family out on the streets. Britt was killed when her classmate decided to pull out a gun on the school bus.

I have seen so many lives. None of them are fairy tales. They are not TV show fantasies of quirky siblings and silly parents and adorable pets. They are harsh truths.


Today’s life is a first for me. Elizabeth Carmen Danine. A cancer patient. I’ve never experienced one of these before. It’s painful. But I can feel the hope that sits deep in her chest, and I can feel the love that radiates from her family as they revolve around her. That warmth pushes me through the day, makes the pain easier to bear.

The evening brings news.

News that Elizabeth herself will not hear, but will most likely remember in a dull fog tomorrow. That’s something that I figured out by accident, when I inhabited girls that happened to be best friends in the same week. The first girl that I’d inhabited revealed that her memory of my day with her was foggy, and that only the important basics could really reveal themselves to her.

I almost miss the doctor’s words as I’m pondering Elizabeth’s memories. “Liza,” he says.

I look up.

His eyes say everything.

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