Short Stories : Schizophrenic Spell

She does not know her name, or she refuses to remember her own name. It is not that as if she hates the name that her mother gave her, but she rather not remember the name because it would remind her of the sadness and agony from her childhood. Do you want to know her name?

Let I introduce her as Hannah. Well, she tells people whom she met that her name is Hannah. It sounds so pure, so demure yet it is far from it. At least Hannah was called 'a pretty little thing' when she was a child.

Hannah walks around with her neon red heels and bleached hair which does not match with her ivory skin. Her green eyes clash with blue mascara, and her cheeks are blotched with pinkish-tone blusher. She always dabs her favorite plum-wine colored lipstick on her lips, giving no hint of the natural color. She wears a tight satin purple tank top and black latex mini skirt. Her body smells like cheap perfume. And she bats her eyelashes to men who come to her place. 

And Hannah does not mind of what people say to her. She is happy with her life, naturally. This is what she is best at and she knows nothing about other things.

Ah. Hannah. Sad, pretty little thing Hannah. What has become you? What happened to you my dear, I could not tell.

"Hey you, here." 

I looked at her as she calls me. Did she? I look around looking for a sign.

"Yes you are silly, come here." She laughed. 

I walk to her side and put my hand at her right hip. She squeals with excitement. 

"Hannah," I whispered to her ear. 

Suddenly, Hannah stopped smiling. She pushed away my hand from her hips. 

"Who are you? Why did you know my name?"

I smiled. Oh, dear Hannah. Don't you remember? 

"Don't fret, my dear. I am always watching you from afar. That is how I know your name," I said.

"Don't dare to dear me! I don't know you, and I would like you to go away from here, please." she asked me. Her eyes glinted in fear.

And suddenly I realized.

This is not the Hannah that I used to know. This is not her. Where is she?

"You are not Hannah." Said I.

"What are you talking about? I don't understand you. Please, let me go!" She struggled to get her wrist away from my grip.

I looked at my hand. When did I do that? 

"Where is Hannah? Where is the love of my life? TELL ME!" I barked at her pitiful face. She backed away, struggling herself.

"I am! Please sir! I don't know you! Somebody, please help me!" Screamed she.

'And do you think all these people would want to help you? They loath your presence. Mothers drag their children away at your sight. Honorable men avert their eyes from yours;.' 

Why did I think of this? I don't understand myself.

'Darling, don't you remember me? You always kiss me senselessly with that plump lips. You speak of nothing but heaven. And you cried hard when I was away.'

"I am under your spell."

Yes Hannah, I am.

'And I shall send you to heaven, my love.'