Fan Fiction ❯ I'm You ❯ One-Shot ( One-Shot )

When she first came to me, I was almost ecstatic. She looked exactly like me. She was as tall as me, had the same colored eyes and hair as me, and liked the same things as me. Best of all, no one else could see her. Not even my parents or siblings.

I remember the day she came so vividly: It was sunny and warm outside. A perfect day for playing, and the like. I was kicking around a basketball with two of my friends in my front yard (it was the only thing that we could find) . . . well, actually just nudging it around. It was filled with air, and very new, so it was very hard. Then, one of my friends nudged it a little too hard, and the ball rolled into the backyard. Since it was my yard that we were playing in, and I was closest to where the ball rolled, I had to go after it.

First, before I go into this anymore, I have to describe the backyard, for one could not understand what I will say unless they know what the backyard was like. Now, since my father was too busy with work, and such, he couldn't "keep" the backyard. The front yard was as well kept as the rest of the yards on the block, but the backyard was a disaster. Overgrown with weeds, cluttered with old toys that had been literally thrown out the door and left there, trash bags that had broken and leaked trash out into the yard, everything that could be thought to be in there, was. It was a terrible sight, but it was behind the house, so no one ever really saw it other than my family.

Anyway, I had to go into the backyard to retrieve the lost ball. Slightly nervous that I wouldn't be able to find it, and then my friends would be mad at me, I hesitated for a moment. I finally moved, though, propelled by one of my friend's pushing of me.

I stepped into the backyard, wary of what could possibly jump out and grab me. After waiting for a couple of minutes, and seeing that nothing would pop out of the underbrush at me, I strode confidently into the backyard.

As I walked deeper into the yard, toward the place where I thought the ball had gone, I heard a soft noise behind me. Wheeling around, my eyes flitted across the whole yard, searching for the lion that was probably hiding behind one of the trees, waiting for me to turn my back before it jumped upon me, and ripped off most of the skin off of me (yes, I had a very vivid imagination). When I saw that nothing was there, I was about to turn back and continue my search, but the noise sounded again. It was like . . . an animal, almost. It was very hard to describe, but I figured where it was coming from then.

Moving carefully toward the place where the noise came from, I pushed back the bush that obscured my view of what was there. When I finally was able to control the bush, I looked at what was there, and screamed in surprise. Somehow, though, I was unable to take my eyes off of it, and run away. In fact, I couldn't move at all. It was like she was holding me there.

Behind the bushes sat a mirror of me. Literally, she looked exactly like me. She was sitting on the ground, crying softly. Tears slid heavily from her eyes, but she was looking back at me with the most even look I've ever seen.

I realized then that I was standing there, slack-jawed, drooling, just looking at her. I also found that I had no voice, as I tried to say something to her. Finally able to regain my senses, I interrogated her. "Who are you?" Then, her answer didn't scare me in the least, it simply confused me, but now, it sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it.

"I'm you."

And, true to her word, she was me. Her personality was exactly like mine, I found, as she reached out and impulsively hugged me. At the time, I was still confused by her response to my question, and I simply hugged her back. As she pulled back, I saw that she had stopped crying. "Why are you here?" Was the only thing I could think to say.

"I'm here to be with you. To be you."

The rest of what happened that day is a whirlwind. I really can't remember it that well. The only thing that I really remember was my mother coming out, because she had heard my scream. She had been in the shower when she had heard me, and jumped out immediately, despite the fact that she still had shampoo in her hair. Not thinking clearly, she had run down the stairs, but then remembered that she had no clothes on, and ran back into the bathroom to retrieve some.

It was then I found out no one else could see her. When my mother ran up to me and pulled me to her protectively, I saw that her gaze didn't even falter toward her. Or, should I say, myself. My mother than began a string of questions that consisted of "what's wrong," "did you get hurt," and such. When I told her I had seen myself in the bushes, she glanced over at them, where she was sitting, but didn't seem to see her sitting there. My mother then swept me into her arms, and took me inside.

I remember that she waved to me, but didn't follow us inside. Then my memory completely fades. I don't even remember what happened when I got inside. I think, though, that's because she probably erased my memory. She probably has the power to do that. Of course, maybe I don't remember anything from that day because it wasn't important, or maybe because I was only about ten at the time, which was many years ago.

She was still there the next day, but she wasn't crying anymore. She was just calling my name softly. "Colleen . . . Colleen . . . Colleen . . . " She kept whispering. I was in the house when I first heard the whispers, and was drawn outside by them. It was really early in the morning when she called me outside. I think it was six A.M., actually.

I probably wouldn't have gone if I'd been given the choice, but I was being pulled by some invisible force. I stumbled outside tiredly, and walked toward the same bush where I had found her, though I don't know how I even distinguished which bush it was. Anyway, I found my way to the bush, and pushed it aside to see her there again. She was grinning up at me. I held my hand out to her subconsciously, and she took it happily.

We walked into my house holding hands, and not saying anything to one another. We went up to my room, and curled up in my bed together. I found it slightly uncomfortable that she was touching me in places no one had ever touched me before, but I found solace in the touch, and feel asleep with my hands on the same places she was touching me.

Another couple of days must have passed, but I can't remember those either. I think, though, during those days, I learned that she could only be seen by me, and, for some reason, found great joy in this fact.

I remember that I did everything with her: ate, played, slept, even showered with my "twin." I loved that she always thought the same things I did, always agreed with every word that I said, always wanted to do what I was doing. I abandoned my other friends, and only spent time with her.

My parents didn't like this, though. Of course, they couldn't see her, and simply thought that I was playing with myself, or something like that. They sent me to a psychoanalyst, but the person said there was nothing wrong with me. After that happened, I simply convinced them that I just wanted to be alone with myself. They only understood what I meant by that in a relative way, of course. I mean, they couldn't see her, so they couldn't know of her.

Over the next few years, I was tremendously happy. She was always there for me, always ready to comfort me if I was upset, always ready to help me with schoolwork, if I needed it. She was always there. I was comforted by her, and, somehow, loved her.

Then, she began to change. She began to do the things that I only thought of in the back of my mind. Things that I'd never even begin to think about doing.

The first thing she did was lit a house on fire. It was an old mansion on one end of the street. It was practically falling in on itself, and almost scared me. Every morning, I had to walk past it to get to school. Every day I worried that the house would fall in on itself, and somehow, I'd be close enough to get sucked in. And, then, I'd die. I didn't voice these thoughts to her, but she, in some way, heard what I thought, and torched the house.

I knew she had done it, because she told me she had. I remember the night that it happened, she had left to go do something, but didn't tell me what. Then, she came back in about an hour, with this huge grin on her face. I was scared by her when I saw her so happy, but felt even more scared when she told me she had burned down the house. When I asked her why, she simply replied, "'Cause you didn't like the house. And since you didn't like it, I didn't like it. Remember, I'm you." Then, she kissed me. Right on the lips. And even though I was scared of her at that moment, I kissed her back.

No one was ever punished for burning the house down, obviously, because no one could see her, other than me. I was glad no one was killed when the house was torched, but I guess I shouldn't have thought so soon. I should have known that she'd do more awful things.

Over the next few months, I guess, she and I became closer. She always kissed me goodnight before bed, and always curled up so close to me. Sometimes it was uncomfortable, yet I could always fall asleep with her there. It was almost odd, though, the way it was. I was in love with myself, and that didn't seem right.

As time went on, though, she seemed to be tapping into my thoughts, and carrying out the fantasies that I just thought about in the back of my mind for two seconds. It all didn't seem that real, though. Maybe because I didn't want it to be real.

The things she did almost on a daily basis. Like the old mansion down the street, she torched another old house that I didn't like. She "got rid of" an old dog that I wanted put out of its misery, since the poor thing was sick with kidney failure, and was blind from old age. Unfortunately, she did it in the cruelest way possible: she hung it by its feet. The poor thing hung there for hours before it finally died. I chastised her for this, and she didn't do something like that again. She did many other things, but they were minor compared to what she did that one day.

I should have know that it was inevitable, but I didn't. Then, it happened. She killed another person. The person was someone I didn't like at all. The girl was snotty, and made fun of me whenever she got the chance. She always compared my life to hers, and found fault in everything that I did. I truly hated her, but I didn't want to her die. But she did. By her hand.

She did it so simply. She followed me to school that day with a knife in her pocket. When the girl I hated went into the bathroom alone, she struck. She stabbed the girl many times, and slit her throat also. Then, she drank the girl's blood, and spread it all around.

At the time, I was in class, but I felt that something was going on, mostly since she wasn't by my side in that class, like she usually was. I left the class immediately. I rushed into the bathroom, but saw nothing. I walked up to one of the stalls, but, before I even had my hand on the door, I knew what was on the other side wasn't good.

I slowly pushed open the door, and found her there. She was covered in blood, as where the walls of the stall that surrounded her. I screamed, loudly, and she looked at me calmly. "Who are you?" I cried. She then threw her head back, and laughed through dried, cracked lips. She abruptly stopped, and looked me straight in the eye. This time, her answer didn't confuse me, it scared me out of my mind.

"I'm you."

After those words left her lips, I spun around, and started to run, but slipped on the blood that had pooled on the cracked tiles of the bathroom floor. I jumped up immediately, and tried to run again. After it felt like I had fallen and stood up one hundred more times, I finally was able to run out the door.

I left the school as quickly as I could, though I was stopped by a few teachers on the way out. They seemed afraid of me, though, and let me past them promptly after they stopped me. Probably because I was screaming my head off, and I was covered in blood.

I ran all the way home, and began to pack my stuff. I needed to get away from that house. I didn't know where I'd go, but I needed to get away. It had been there that I had found her. It had been there that all of that stuff had happened. And I needed to get away from it.

Then, she appeared behind me. She was still covered in blood. I stuffed the last of my things into the backpack that I had found in the hallway before I had run up to my room. I turned to leave, but she stood in my way. I tried to get past her, but she guessed my every move. "Why won't you let me leave?!" I screamed.

"You can't leave me. You can't leave yourself. I'm you."

I then spun around, and jumped through my bedroom window. I flew through the air, and landed in the middle of the backyard. Ignoring the pain that I felt, I crawled toward the thick brush near the back of the yard, hoping that I could hide myself, or at least find something to defend myself against her, but nothing appeared to me. I heard her behind me, coming closer to me, and I searched harder.

As she came closer and closer, I found myself in the left corner of the backyard. Crawling in the direction of the fence, I pawed under the rough wood, desperately looking for something that could help me against her in any way. Nothing revealed itself to me, and I looked up to find her standing above me.

I shrieked, but knew that I couldn't get away. I backed against the fence, and felt splinters of wood in my back, but I didn't do anything. Then, my hand pressed against something on the ground. The thing under my hand collapsed slightly, and made a soft thumping noise. Clawing at it, I picked it up, and found myself clutching the basketball that had found its way into the backyard all those years ago. Time had deflated it, and weather had dirtied it, but I knew it was the same ball that led be into the backyard. That made me find her.

I swung it at her, and it hit her in the face. She fell backwards, her arms flapping about. I tried to run again, but she was up in a flash.

"Colleen, why are you afraid of me? I'm not going to hurt you. I am you."

She came closer to me, and fell on top of me. She pressed her lips to mine, and then she was gone. I felt confused, because I didn't know where she had went, but I didn't have the time to think about it.

People came into the backyard, and took me away. They say that I'm insane. I'm in a mental asylum right now. I was blamed for that girl's death, I guess. No one told me why I'm here, other than the fact that I'm crazy.

She's inside me now. I haven't mentioned that, have I? Yes, she's a part of me now. She probably always has been. I probably imagined her in the first place. I probably did all of those things. I can't tell, though. I really can't.

Even so, I still hear a voice in my head that sounds just like mine, yet somehow isn't me. It's there with me every day, whispering things to me no one else hears. And, every night, before I fall asleep, it repeats the same two words over and over again.

"I'm you. I'm you. I'm you. I'm you..."

A/N: The idea was sprung, originally, from a little image that came to me last week in school. It was exactly like the scene in the bathroom above.

My imagination is bigger than the world itself.

It wasn't really going to be like this, at first, but I like the way it turned out.

Please review.