I wish that I was there, when nobody else was. I wish I was their cradling your small body, telling you that you were safe in my arms. I wish you knew that I still loved you, and that I was at your front door.
But I was too late.
When can I see you again? It's obvious that it won't be soon. I remember walking into your once tidy room, to find it stained with crimson. I saw the shirt I left at your house weeks ago, that night I had finally made love to you. It used to be black but now it's red. I then spotted that teddy bear you told me you had gotten when you were young, and that you still slept with it when you were scared or upset. I was so envious of that bear. I was jealous because it had touched your creamy skin, it had heard and seen all your secrets from sitting on your bed, and that you would wrap your short arms around it like you were holding onto dear life.
I spotted, then, something strange. I saw a young girl, similar to my age, looking like you. I swear you two were almost identical, but this girl had slits on her wrists. You would never do that. And her clothes that she was wearing were colored in crimson. You would never allow that. There was a stench filling the room. This girl was dead. But I wondered where you had gone and why this girl was now living in your home, in your room.
I observed her from head to toe. This girl, she killed herself. It's very obvious. I'm not stupid. But I'm just confused. Where are you? I looked and saw photographs of her and her friends hung up around her room, on the walls. She looked so happy. Yet she killed herself. What happened?
I'm sorry to intrude.
But can you tell me where you are?
Answer me, please.
This isn't you.
Lying on the floor, this is another girl.
This isn't you, right?
Princess?