Two Faced

Do you believe in ghosts? Vengeful spirits of the dead that cannot rest in peace as long as they are avenged? No, I didn't believe in it either. But when a ghost possesses your body and makes you serve its purpose, you obviously have to start believing...


3. Chapter 2

I lay supine on the lawn, drowned in my thoughts, facing the clear blue sky, the smell of freshly mown grass tickling my nostrils. Occasional stings below my knee, the cut that I had now bandaged,  kept reminding me of the possibility that I was going crazy. There was every chance it was a serious mental disorder - split personality or schizophrenia? But a stranger's voice inside my head kept telling me that this was something else.

This is another side of you, the nagging voice kept piping in. You have only just discovered it, but it has been there forever.

Did that mean I was double faced? Did I really have two sides? One side of Beth that was nice and mellifluous, and another side of Beth that was ghastly and macabre? The thought made me sick.

"Are you all right?" Mother's voice interrupted my thoughts. I never realised when she had seated herself beside me on the grass, but when I looked up, she was observing my bandaged wound, looking concerned. "How did you get hurt?"

"Oh, I - it's nothing." I said, brusquely. 

Mother's brows furrowed, as though she sensed I was lying. "Tell me, what happened?"

"Mother, I'm okay," I said, nettled for some reason. "Don't keep nagging me." The words escaped my mouth as though a stranger was speaking them.

"I was just worried," she sounded hurt. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Just don't treat me like a kid." As I looked at her, an inexplicable hatred flooded my insides. All of a sudden, I felt extremely furious. She didn't say much, but just left. And as I watched her leave, anger bubbled inside me, threatening to surface at any moment. What was wrong with me?

I decided I needed some dreamless, undisturbed sleep. So I got up and made for my bedroom. I saw Father on my way, and immediately, the same feeling of insane loathing returned to me.

"What are you up to?" he asked, sceptically.

Just look at him, the stranger's voice said. Always telling you off for things. Expecting you to be the person he wants you to be! Don't you see how sick you are of him? Don't you see it, Beth?

"Shut up," I whispered.

Who are you fooling, Beth? You know it's true.

Somewhere deep inside, I knew it was. I was sick of my father's annoying habit. But until then, I had never really thought about it. I was sure he didn't mean to do it. I knew Father loved me. Of course he did. 

Does he? the voice came back. What makes you think so? Did he ever let you do what you've wanted to? He always wants you to do what a princess should. If he truly loved you, he would have understood you. 

I was disgusted with myself. Why was I thinking all this? This kind of stuff shouldn't have been in my mind in the first place! Was it really me who was thinking all this?

"Beth?" said Father. I had forgotten he was watching me. "Are you okay?"

My father was concerned about me. I should have felt something nice, close to grateful! Instead, I felt like being to rude to him the same way I had been with Mother. I didn't trust myself to say anything, so I rushed into my bedroom and locked myself inside. 


I had messed up last time. But now, I was ready.

I stood before the same door, excitement and restlessness pulsing through me. I was finally here. And nothing could take this away from me now. Nothing.

I felt the cold surface of the door beneath my fingertips. I pushed gently, and the door swung inwards. I saw my parents. They were vulnerable. They looked so peaceful, as though everything was fine. Of course, for them it was. They weren't dead. They hadn't been killed by their cruel, superstitious parents.  

I approached them, observing their deep breaths, wondering what it would be like to feel and breathe on your own. I walked on until I was standing right beside the bed, and looked down at them contemptuously. They had been right. I was a demon, perhaps. But killing me hadn't made it easier for them. They would have to repay for what they did to me.

I raised my gun and shot two bullets straight into their chests. 

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