There’s a little girl that looks up at me from the ground floor to my balcony. I am not too high up, to the tops of a few sparse trees. She can see me, I can see her, and we look at each other.
She’s not there, really. No one else sees her, not anyone I’ve ever talked to about her. But to me, she’s always there. Morning to night with her head craned up looking at me. When I leave for work and I’m on the ground floor with her, I can see that her head hasn’t moved from its upwards tilt, but her eyes are staring right at me. Like it’s boring into my skull.
I used to be scared of her. I wondered if she was dangerous, I even tried to ask her some questions. She didn’t do anything. She just stared. It’s not so frightening any more, she does nothing but look up at me and not much else. I always wonder if she does anything when I turn away from her. Does she stop looking? Pull faces? Or maybe disappears entirely.
She reminds me of someone. I’ve seen her face before but I can’t remember where, or what from. Just that I’ve seen her. I used to be a teacher, I’m thinking she was a former student of mine, but all of the emails I’ve sent to her parents have gone unanswered.
The reason I’m writing this down is because today I touched her. While on my way to work, curiosity took over and I reached out to touch her bare arm. I don’t know what I expected, but she was so cold. She didn’t move, but her eyes still stared at me to the side.
I stayed there for a while. I wanted to see if she would do anything. She looked sickly, somewhat a cross between a child and an embalmed version of a child. I ended up being late for work, but when I got back she remained.
Curiosity took hold again and as I pulled up in my car, I inched it closer to her. Could I nudge her away? I wanted to know. I don’t know why I thought that way. I felt the softest touch of her unmoving body against the front of my car. Nothing shifted and her eyes still stuck to me. I actually thought it was funny.
I don’t know why I continued.
I drove. Inch by inch I watched my car crush into her. Her little body buckled at last and I felt such weird relief, as if I was free of something. I drove over the bump and heard a distinct pop. It was over, I was happy she was gone, happy to have discovered that she could not win over me or stare at me any longer.
I kept the wheel of my car on top of her. I got out and saw her, disemboweled and still, her limbs mangled and her dead eyes staring finally at nothing, not even me.
I was surprised that she had organs. That she bled, and looked more dead than before. I remember seeing something like this before, maybe online or in the news. A man killed his daughter with his car, a tragic accident. But everyone that knew him said he never wanted children, that he hated the burden. I can understand that. With their endless noise and their endless questions and their endless staring. He must have felt relieved, maybe even happy.
Happy she was dead. Happy she couldn’t look at him anymore. I think the girl under my car might actually look like his daughter. I know the man looked like me. We even have the same name and car.
I’m a bit worried to go and see her. Stuck under my car, what if she is still looking at me?
What if she tries to call me ‘dad’?