The other recoiled. Tears formed.
The speaker felt the deepest satisfaction. She spoke again, venom spewing.
"I wish you would die. I want everyone to be sad, and move on. I want your face forgotten, like me. I wish I didn't have to see your footsteps wherever I go. Every forest. Every god forsaken city has your traces. I see your sadness in rain, hear your words in candle smoke...
You might love me, but I don't care. I will never care. I don't need you and I never did. Stop talking to me. Stop trying to reach me with words dryer than the dust on your bookshelves. I tear them apart like brittle ancient maps, watching the pieces fall without regret.
"I wish you never talked to me. I wish I never told you my phone number. I don't want to hear you. Your voice is like shattering glass, sharp and broken. Stop talking down to me like some ignorant child. I know more about anything than you do. I hear the trees whisper, I know the voices of the fog. I can tell you every river-secret. Like you would care. All you love is your vanity. But you are ugly, like a peacock without feathers. Like a dove without a voice.
"You paste makeup on your lonely face, all in hopes it will make up for the feathers, the voice. You tease your hair, put hairspray in it, hoping the smell covers up the scent of dryness and dust about you. But I'm smarter than that. I see it in your sick-looking expressions and lifeless eyes. You see beauty only in sadness and ruin, which is exactly what you are. You are a wreck. A mess. A mistake. And every one loves you. You don't deserve affection, you little liar.
"Show me every white scar. Show them to me, then I'll believe you. You ignorant attention-seeking whiner. I hate you. You aren't sad. Not like me."
She paused. The other opened her mouth.
"Don't you speak. You have nothing of worth to say; every word is a waste of space and time. Save your oxygen for people who give a care. Save it for the waste of lives you call friends. I hope they all desert you. I hope being alone is your greatest fear. I hope the company of the trees gives you nightmares. I hope the trees leave you...
I never want to see you here again. You make the ghosts come out of the closets. If this were a letter, I would end it now. Not with something pleasant on the tongue, but something to make your skin crawl and cause you to look about the room when you think you hear my voice. Listen.
Goddamn you,
Abby"
And so she faded from the room. If you weren't looking, you wouldn't believe it.
