"Why did you do this to us?" the little girl asks. I don't know how to answer. The little girl stands there, her natural bleach blond hair in a messy ponytail, a light blue dress with dark blue flowers and a broken chain as a necklace. The little girl has tears streaming down her now angry face.

"Why would you throw away all I've started for us?" The little glared straight into my eyes, beaming with so much anger. But that wasn't even the scariest part. What scared me was how controlled the girl's voice was. That control was the scariest part of the small girl standing there.

"It wasn't me," I tell her, trying to be firm, knowing who she was wasn't right for who I'd become.

"What do you mean it wasn't you? Of course it was you! You did this to us!"

"No. I meant it wasn't what I wanted."

"Yes it was!" Yelled the girl. "I hate you. I hate what you've become; what you've turned us into. You make me sick." The words hurt, and while I knew them on the inside, hearing them just confirmed the feelings. There was no way out if this little girl was still here inside my head.

"I'm sorry. I hate pretending to be you though," I explain to her. The little girl looked at me. I stared into the little girl's blue eyes, so much brighter than my own. All the pain and knowledge of what this little girl had yet to experience reflected in the gray that had seeped into my eye over each passing year since this girl that stood there, tangible for once.

The little girl motioned for me to come closer, so I did.

I was filled with shock as I grabbed my cheek and she rested her just open hand down by her side in a fist.

"I hate you. I wish I never became you. You're weak." I looked at the little girl, watching myself walk away, knowing I was better off the way I was. Knowing she would one day understand.