You found me on a beach in Scarborough after a meteor shower.
The winds were wild and the salt sea was rough and unkind. I was hiding inside a seashell. I was so very little then and so were you. We were the same, motherless and lonely. I sensed our kinship unconsciously, maybe we both did. You turned around my shell in your little fingers admiring every eroded crevice and crack. I stayed hidden, I didn’t trust you, not then. This place was new, it wasn’t yet home and when in strange places one has to keep a low profile.
You popped my shell into your pocket and I writhed out. I slipped up your sleeve and tore a hole in your arm when I was sure I wouldn’t be disrupted. You flinched and tried to shake me off but it was too late. I was inside.
“Lucy. Get back here.” A firm voice, your father. “What are you crying for, you silly girl.”
“Something bit me. It hurts.” You cried out in your feeble little voice. I didn’t want to hurt you. You must realise that. I take no pleasure in pain unlike some, but needs must. Your father grabbed your sore arm with an unsympathetic yank.
“It’ll be fine. It’s time to leave.”
You dragged your feet all the way back home. The beach was a nicer place than your little flat that was for sure. It had fallen into disorder and squalor after your mother had passed. Cancer. It’s a thing everywhere you know, there’s no spot in the universe it does not haunt. Whilst you played with dolls in your room I made my home in your brain stem. It’s a comfortable little spot for a little thing like me. I don’t take up much room and it’s the perfect spot to hook myself in.
Being inside someone is a tricky little thing. It is a primal act. So much of our natural processes are subconscious. The first and most important rule of binding is quite simple; the host cannot know you are there. If they realise or even suspect you, every part of their body will reject you. It’s simple biology, it is the natural prerogative of all life not to share it’s life force with that which is foreign to it. Subtlety is your friend. If you mean to influence your host’s actions or decisions you must be a gardener as opposed to a dictator, you must lay the seeds carefully and nurture them into fruition. You must be but a shadow working your craft from the shadows.
I didn’t have to influence you very much. You kept us both very safe. You were such a good little girl that I was happy just to watch you grow. You’re father drank whilst you played at his feet. Sometimes you’d cry yourself to sleep clutching at her photo frame - your dear mother - how I wished to have met her. She seemed so warm, so unlike the man whom she had left behind whose time was a scarce resource not spent on you.
You weren’t very good at school. It wasn’t you’re fault, you’re brain was just wired a little differently. I often wonder if it was my fault for intruding in your brain as I did or if the mutation was natural to you, but reading was a little tricky for you - words on pages would appear all jumbled up and you’re eyes would squint trying to make sense of it all. You’d fail and the teacher would get irritated and you’re father would be disappointed.
I knew I needed to help. I wanted you to succeed. You see your world values intelligence in the binary; a folly we alone cannot make it grow out of. It does not appreciate the beautiful way your sinapses dance.
I slowly taught you how to write in my own way. I would infiltrate your dreams with words laid out the correct way and fill you with confidence in your own ability to weave letters together. By the time I was done with you, you were a wordsmith.
I feel the need to confess this all to you Lucy. I feel an urge to let you know which parts of your life I influenced. I know it may feel like an invasion to you - but it was all done out of love for you. You were all I had. I’d travelled forty-thousand light years away from everything I knew and I must admit that I latched onto you for dear life. We all need something, or someone, to ground us.
My second intrusion, so to speak, was when you were thirteen. You’re first period. I know you don’t remember it. You were in gym class and the blood seeped through your shorts without you noticing. A few of the mean boys in class, you know the ones, laughed at you mercilessly. They cornered you in the bathroom and called you terrible things.
I felt awful for intruding but I felt I had to. You see, some memories do not serve us well. Some memories are just trauma and you had enough of that with your mother dying so young. I decided you’d be better without it, so I slipped up your brain stem and a few gentle alterations later and you were free of that particular burdensome memory. You’re old enough now that I’m sure this does not haunt you so much as it might have for a young girl.
The third intrusion was even more necessary than the last. You had just failed your english exam. You had studied so very hard for it as well. You were crying in your room and your arm was bruised from the mug your father had thrown at you in blind anger.
“I didn’t mean to fail you mum.” You looked into the mirror disgusted at the reflection.
Your mother couldn’t have been disappointed in you. I knew that even though I had not had the pleasure of knowing her. This was a preposterous belief and it simply could not stand. You finally fell asleep that night and I slipped into your dreams. It was not hard to take the form of your mother for you thought of her so often that her image was as plain to me as it was to you. I didn’t say anything that she wouldn’t have told you. I told you how very special you were, how exams meant nothing and how much you were loved. For the first time in your life I think you believed it. You were a little lighter in mood the next day.
I want you to remember me Lucy - it’s selfish I know - but I want you to look past my nature and think of me fondly. It was a pleasure knowing you Lucy, it was my honour to watch you and to help you in the small ways I did. Sometimes when you were feeling low, you might remember a voice in your head willing you on. Or maybe you’d remembered an answer to a question that had plagued you that suddenly sprung to mind. That was me. You did not need much help, I want you to know that. You have your degree now Lucy, a wonderful job as an art teacher and a fiancee who thinks the world of you. You made it and it was all you.
The last time I intruded on your life will be the last time. I can assure you of that. My time with you is not long now, but I had to do it. Let it be my last gift to you.
He was following you for a while.
He was your shadow for too long.
Sometimes you felt you were being watched and I must tell you Lucy, you were right.
He was watching. He was cruel Lucy, cruel and bitter and he wanted you all to himself. I don’t know much about him, only that you met him one day in the pharmacy. You were kind to him and held the door open for him as you left. He remembered you and obsessed over you. He turned your kindness into perversion.
He was the one who left the flowers on your door. Your dear fiance Derek took credit for it, but it wasn’t him it was your watcher.
One day, last Saturday to be exact, he plucked up the courage to do the unthinkable. He followed you home from work. He had it all planned out, he had the chloroform and a dirty rag ready to go. I couldn’t let it happen Lucy and you were powerless to stop it. I watched as you walked into your demise. Subtlety would not work here, I knew that. I took full control of you. This was when you experienced your blackout.
It was strange to control your body and I did not relish this invasion of your bodily autonomy but it was necessary to protect you and shield you from horror. I will not horrify you with my methods. I am armed if necessary with certain appendages that can be useful in these circumstances. You can be assured that he has been dealt with appropriately and he will not be returning to bother you again. What little was left of his body has been disposed of carefully and nothing of this event will impact you in the future. You may notice that you have an upset stomach for the next few days. This is perfectly normal.
I wasn’t very subtle and unfortunately this means that your body has begun to recognize my presence. I can feel it fight me as I write these words with your hands. By the time you read this I can assure you I will be completely gone. It is my privilege to give my life to protect yours. Thank you Lucy. Thank you, and good luck.
Signed,
A traveller from very far away.