Part 4


For a second, she looked straight at me. I held my breath, waiting for her to realise that the person she cradled was a complete replica of myself. To twig that I was both lying in her arms, and crouching beside her.
But her watery eyes quickly swept over the rest of the room, overlooking me as if I didn't exist before she turned back and her shoulders started to shake. I rocked back onto my heels, my breath coming out in a sigh, holding my hand to my chest as if she'd burnt it. I'd definitely done something then, to trigger that response.
I watched as she hid her face in the chaos of my hair. It was such a shock of fiery red hair, compared to my deathly pale pallor and white dress. It was the only colour on me except for the blood. It made the girls own strawberry locks look blond in comparison. With morbid curiosity, I shifted over to the left, to get a better look of my face. My eyes were still open. I stared into the dull depths, as lifeless as the rest of my body, half expecting them to blink or close. After a moment I shook my head to dispel the slightly creepy image of the dead body suddenly springing up, alert.
I quickly straightened up and took a few steps back. My legs started pacing of their own accord, as I went over what happened in my head. She'd definitely felt something where I'd touched her. What was stranger was I could have sworn she saw me, but then she'd acted as if no one else was there, as if I was no more a part of this basement than the boxes or floor. Maybe if I tried again, putting even more force into it..
I stopped pacing and turn towards her. She'd stopped crying now, stroking the back of her hand across my cheek with tears still on her own. I pulled back my shoulders, preparing myself for round two of trying-to-effect-my-surroundings-and-move-something, feeling as if I should be cracking my knuckles and loosening up. She shivered, and I realised it must be freezing down here, with the cement floor and brick walls. She was dressed in pink shorts and a white vest and jelly shoes. Dressed for a nice day out at the beach. She looked so vulnerable, bent over my body with a look on her face beyond her years; a look of deep mourning. I hesitated, then decided to practice on the cameras again. I didn't want to end up hurting her.
It took me more effort than I'd thought necessary to turn my back to her, and walk 6 steps to the other side of the room. For some reason, even though I knew she was still there - I could hear her sniffling - it irked me not to have her in my sight. I stood before the photography equipment, and focused on the digital camera on the side again. Taking a deep breath, I gripped the camera with both hands, and after spreading my feet for a better stance, tugged with all my might. Nothing happened. Again.
Letting out a frustrated squeak, I put even more force into it. I had my feet pressed right up to the counter, leaning away from it at a sharp forty degree angle. The only thing stopping me from falling backwards was the camera, which stubbornly refused to budge even an inch, and which I, just as stubbornly, refused to let go of.
"You won't be able to move it," A husky voice said very close to my ear. I shrieked in surprise, abruptly letting go of the camera and landing flat on my back, my hair billowing over my face. I scrambled up so I was leaning back on my arms, and shoved my hair back irritably. My irritation quickly evaporated when I got a look at the person belonging to the voice. My mouth dropped open in awe.