Nothing is Real.

I see her again. She has a brother. This time, they stand. Her arms are limp at her sides, grey and blotched - the colors of the dead - and she caries a dark silver knife. Her pale blue-grey dress is again drenched, hanging heavily on her shoulders. Her head is down and her wet hair, full of mange, hangs down to her waist. I see her again. She lifts her head to look at me with eyes sewn shut. She sings with the music box I hear with lips stitched together. I am terrified but I try to ignore her, try to pretend she's not there. Just look away.
Then I see him. He is standing, her brother, perhaps they are twins. His clothes are the same, heavy, pale, blue-grey. His hair is the same black, wet and dirty. His eyes and lips are forever closed, same as hers. They stand so perfectly still. The music box song gets louder as his voice joins them. It's a broken noise. My heart races as I try not to cry. They're going to get me, with all these people around. How do they not see them? They're going to get me.
Frankie nudges me, "Aren't you going to eat?" I can hardly breathe as I shake my head. The song is drowning out the loud sounds of the cafeteria. I feel blood on my fingertips and look down, I'd been scratching my arm again. When I look up he's closer. I feel her breath on the nape of my neck. They are still so motionless. I stand, doing my best not to shake and swallowing hard against the tears, and throw my food away. When I return they're gone.
They are all in my head. Nothing is real. At least I don't scream anymore.