My worst enemy
I will never forget those eyes. I have never seen blue eyes like those again, so icy that they were almost completely grey. Together with her dark hair they gave an unnatural feeling, as if she was less human and more like a wild creature. A creature you would not trust to eat from your hand.
Of course at first I never noticed that. She was my best friend, or maybe my only friend. To be honest, at that age, she was most probably my first friend and I had no idea what to expect from such an abstract concept as friendship so I just went along.
Things started to get suspicious as the class grew bigger and we had more girls to play with. Until then, I had thought that I was just an unlucky child, a feeling that she, the queen of kindergarten, had happily helped me with. She was the one supporting me that time someone scribbled over my beautiful drawing of my family as it was hanging on the walls of the class. And she was the one who found my coloured bead necklace. She got to keep it, but at least I could look at it from time to time. It seemed she was always there for me when disasters happened. Looking back I realise that probably disasters happened because she was there.
Probably less than two weeks since they started in our school, Lori and Nuria were already walking behind her submissively. I was used to be her only follower and I had yet to understand that her power was unlimited. I became quiet, sitting back to hear the new girls speak wonders of her. Because her hair was the longest and shiniest, her mother made the best sandwiches for break time, she had the Barbie accessories we could only dream for, and even the uniform skirt, which was the same for all of us, seemed as if specially cut to fit her. She soon noticed I wasn’t admiring her full time like before, and that’s when her eyes started to seem scary.
Since I thought I had finally realised what friendship was about and it didn’t seem like much, I decided I was ready to explore the next step in human relationships. So I got myself a boyfriend. His name was Jon, he gave me the picture-card I was missing from my Disney’s Aladdin collection and I gave him my heart and all my spare cookies from breakfast each day. He was an animal lover, he took care of the class pet, a stray cat that had been abandoned in a box under the swing set. I guess the teacher was forced to adopt it by an army of wide opened 5 year olds crying “Ooooh, it’s a kitty!”.
But a few months later the kitty was found dead under the class window. After the teacher dealt with our grief and taught us about death we all headed to the playground. I was climbing up the slide when she came, Lori and Nuria following close behind. She told me it was my fault because I had distracted Jon from taking proper care of his responsibilities. I stuttered, “But cat’s are supposed to have seven lives”. She answered, “You’d think so, wouldn’t you”. And that’s when I fell to the floor from the top of the slide ladder. When I recovered consciousness a few minutes later I could only remember one thing: the evil shining through those icy blue eyes.