It was hard to look away from the slip of a woman lost in the seams of an oversized jacket. You could barely see her fingers from the sleeves. Her feet were swallowed in leather shoes that were six sizes too big. None of it was able to stop her from moving with a speed and determination that piqued his interest. It might have been the stalker or journalist in him but both of them were curious, so he followed her, again.
He had followed her for weeks, leaving a message here and a fruit or flower there. Nothing too bizarre. Just assurances to let her know someone was looking out for her- a fan if you will. Today had never happened before. She never went anywhere in a hurry or he would have lost a few pounds trying to keep up with her. She never dressed like… this! What was this?! Under the jacket was an equally oversized shirt and a tie, he had one just like that. No trousers, he noticed. Both items were long enough to go past her knees. The farther she went, the more questions he had. She was going fast.
“Stop Following me!”
He heard it before it registered that the statement was directed at him. She wasn’t looking at him or speaking to him. She was still steps ahead but he heard it in her voice.
Maybe the sun was getting to him. He had followed her into a closed-off street, where else was she going to go?
“I’m going home”
She abruptly turned to answer his question but she had no lips. A patch of burned skin was where her mouth should have been. Still, he heard her talking in his head.
“Don’t you remember?”
Her voice rang clear again. She took off the jacket, shirt, and shoes, revealing a body scarred with familiar lacerations. She vanished before he could register what he was seeing. He walked to the clothes, picked them up and held them to his nose to be sure.
They were his. A piece of paper fell out of his jacket. They were instructions
Wear his clothes. You can only leave by wearing his clothes
Use the map and keep walking
Don’t look back until you are there… (EVEN IF HE FOLLOWS)
A sharp pain travelled through his head as his memory started to flood back. He had to go home now. Someone was helping the souls of the girls in his Boys' Quarters escape.
Share this post