You Were Never Really Here

You Were Never Really Here

It started on a Tuesday. The kitchen light flickered once, and there she was, sitting on the countertop like she had never left.

“Hello, Lacey,” said the girl with the pale hair and hollow eyes. “Miss me?”

Lacey dropped the coffee cup. It smashed on the floor, shards catching the morning light.

“You are not real,” she whispered.

The girl smiled. “Imaginary? We have been through this before. I am here because you need me.” She swung her legs like she had nowhere else to be. “Poor little Lacey. Still alone.”

It had been twenty years. Twenty years since Mara disappeared from her life.

Back then, Mara had been the friend no one else could see. The only one who listened when her mother drank herself into silence and the bullies tore her down.

But Lacey had grown up. Or thought she had.

“Why now?” she asked, her voice thin.

Mara’s smile stayed cold. “Because you called me.”

The days blurred.

Lacey stopped going to work. Ignored her phone. Mara never left her side.

“You are better off alone.”

“No one ever cared.”

“They all forgot you.”

“Stay with me, where it is safe.”

At first, it felt like comfort. Like slipping back into something familiar. But soon, something felt wrong. Mara’s voice scratched at her mind. Her laughter crept through the empty rooms at night. Sometimes, in the window’s reflection, Lacey saw herself staring back, lips closed, while Mara spoke.

She woke with scratches on her arms.

“Did you do this?” she whispered.

Mara smiled, sharp and thin. “I did what you could not.”

On the fourth night, Lacey stood barefoot on the rooftop. Cold wind tore at her hair, her nightdress clinging to her skin.

“Jump,” Mara said softly behind her. “Fly away from all of it. You are tired. Let go.” For a long, shaking moment, she almost believed her.

But something deep inside pushed back.

“No,” she whispered. “Not this time.”

Mara tilted her head, almost sad. “Then why did you call me?”

The truth hit her. She had called her.

After the job fell apart. After the friends drifted away. After the silence stretched too long.

She had whispered into the dark, like she did when she was small. Please, someone, help me.

And something had answered. Or maybe nothing had.

The next morning, Lacey sat on the kitchen floor, surrounded by dishes and unopened letters.

Mara sat nearby, brushing her pale hair with long, thin fingers.

“I am tired, Mara.”

“You always are.”

“It is time for you to leave.”

Mara paused. “Leave? Where would I go? I live in your mind.”

Lacey looked at her properly for the first time and saw what Mara truly was.

A shadow, built from loneliness. “You were never real,” Lacey whispered.

Mara’s smile cracked just a little.

“You made me real,” Mara said softly. “No. I made you up.”

And piece by piece, Mara faded. Her hands, her face, her hollow eyes.

Gone.

The apartment fell quiet.

Lacey hugged her knees and let the tears come, slow and shaking.Not because she was free, not yet. But because she knew now, so deep inside, as she whispered goodbye,

“Mara, even though you were never really here.”And somehow, the silence felt a little less lonely. Lacey knew it was the right time to face up to everything. Time to bury the imaginary thorn from her side forever more. She had tried before but she was not strong enough then. Nowshe is ready to start anew life and make new friends. Friends that are real and true not imaginary anymore. Goodbye Mara.