text: I've done everything I possibly can over the years. Sometimes just to survive, other times in the hope that it can all come to an end. Everything has been to no avail. Here I am. Still. I'm Hope and I'm 315 years old. I look no older than 16 though. Time has stopped for me, but keeps on passing by for all those around me. Over the years, I have been eaten up by jealously of those that get to grow up, to live their lives and most importantly die as was intended. I bet you think I'm a vampire, don't you? I wish... I could just step out into the sun to end it all, if that was the case. Maybe a silver bullet could be my way out. Death by Garlic bread would be actually quite an amazing way to go... but no. Not a vampire. My heart beats just like yours, I breathe just like you. My problem is that my father was one of the magistrates during the Salem Witch trials. He was one of those that were responsible for the last death sentences handed out. I remember being in the court room on that day. I remember Margaret Scott locking eyes with my father after they sentenced to death and saying "Hope dies last". I remember the chill tingling up my spine, I remember admiring the woman for not giving up. Strange thing is, I don't remember the moment when I realized that wasn't a last attempt at positivity, but a curse. She cursed my father, with me as the vessel. The irony of it? I had argued relentlessly with my father about his part in those diabolical trials. I begged and pleased of him to step down, but apparently it had gone too far and if he did that, there would be questions as to why. It could risk our lives and open our family up for accusations. So he continued. Because of that... Here I am... still... I always like Margaret and would often sneak her some bread and cheese. She had been left destitute following the death of her husband. It's not like nowadays where there is some level of support in place, granted not the best, but so much better than it used to be 'back in the day'. That makes me sad. A person that I always found pleasant cursed me to this life. I was so distraught at my father's involvement in ther trials that I left that night, never to return to Salem until last year. I don't know what brought me back. I could barely fight it, so decided to 'go with the flow'... And here I am, living in the same house as I did back then. Granted, it's changed now. And the house has been split up into tiny apartments and by some coincidence I am in the part of the house that used to be my bedroom. My inability to age must sound like a dream. But I can assure you it's not. Imagine being 16 forever. Not being old-looking enough to be an adult certainly makes it difficult to do much of anything - I can only ever get menial jobs, live in dodgy areas, because that's what I can afford with my wages. I can't stay in an area more than a few years because questions start to raise. After over 300 years of working I am exhausted and must have earned a nice pension many times over. I’ve never been sick in the past - not even a cold. I wish for a terminal disease, surely cancer can beat me? Maybe I need to find that glitch in the 'system'.... who knows... With every war, every pandemic I have held onto the Hope that the end of the world is nigh. Unfortunately, us humans are a resilient bunch - we’re not going anywhere any time soon. As morbid as it is, I have a list on me of all female infants and young girls that have passed away in any area I live in, collected from cemeteries and obituaries so that I can steal their identities, their social security numbers and so forth. I feel dirty every time I do it, but if I can’t die, I need to survive. Next on my list is a little baby girl, who died 16 years ago. Hope Elizabeth Scott.... Happens to be my name, well apart from the surname... A coincidence that she shares her surname with poor Margaret? Her whole family perished in a fire in my old neighbourhood in Salem. She fought for weeks in ICU, before passing. With her death, came the end of her family’s linage. I’ve been in touch with a questionable type who will get me all my paperwork in place. This time it feels different. Is it a coincidence? Or maybe this is my way out? Maybe Hope does die last after all...