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I found a scary yoga stream. Even if I turn off the TV, I can't save her.

It was called "Yoga for One" by her.

A month ago, I found her stream by accident. It was one of those rare times when idleness and self-disdain came together to make something close to inspiration. Her picture was tucked between the kickboxing classes and the home gyms with big guys.

Her face was the first thing I saw. It was so close to her that I could see her freckles, teeth that were a little too big for her mouth, and nose that was a little off. I've never been really into yoga, but after hearing her, I was hooked right away.

The living room was a mess, with journals and sad plants all over the floor. Her hands were on the floor, her hips were spread out in front of her, and her bottom was in the middle.

I used a towel instead of a yoga mat because I didn't have one with me. She talked so fast that it was hard to keep up. Only half of what she said was about yoga. "Put your heels together, bend your head towards your feet, and take deep breaths," she told them.

Right now, my feet feel great. They look good enough to eat.

I love peaches in the summer. When I bite into them, I love how the juice bursts in my mouth.

I was so focused on her words that I forgot to notice that she had changed positions. I was breathing in the smell of my own socks. I chose to take a break after a while because it was too hard for me to hold my body in these weird poses. I saw it at that point. The only person who saw her was me. As soon as I closed my window, I felt like I was leaving her.

I went back to her station in the afternoon the next day. The fact that she always streamed was the strangest thing. Either she didn't know I was there or didn't care that I was there. She talked so freely that it was like putting words together at random, and she was usually in the middle of a sentence when I joined in. She chatted with me in a way that made it clear she wasn't interested in being nice. It was cute how honest she was when she gave directions.

I was mesmerised by this strange creature, and the way she moved caught my attention. I wished to know more about her.It was great to watch her in silence. But I still couldn't get my hands close to my toes. The easy poses helped me feel better.

She raised the stakes too soon. She slowly did the splits with her legs spread out and her toes pointed straight out. My muscles hurt from the pressure, but I did my best to copy the pose.

She went a little farther every day. She curved her back in a beautiful arc, lifting her back high in the air at an angle that made her hip look like it was out of place.

As hard as my muscles could push, I tried to get my body as close to hers as possible, ignoring the constant warnings from my nerves.

In the middle of the night, I dreamed that she was torn my limbs apart and cracking my joints into the neat shapes she could hold so easily.

On one occasion, she crossed her hands behind her back so far that I felt a bit of pain. She then stooped down and bent her legs so that her toes touched her neck.

She smiled at me as she should have.

I forgot to eat the first time she talked to me. When I woke up on the couch after a nap, she was saying something about "pomegranates" as her face touched mine. Did she eat or sleep? There were no signs of it for me. Every time I moved, my body hurt. I was in her stream for ten, twelve, or fourteen hours a day, and she talked to me a lot. "I know you've been watching me, and I think you like it," she told him. How far can I turn for you?"

Her smooth, flowing movements were fascinating, like the way the light from a flame swirled into different patterns. I was changing to look more like her. It's hard to say for sure when she crossed the line, but it felt more like quicksand than a single point.

As she lay on her back, her palms and soles supported her, and her torso curved towards the ceiling like something from The Exorcist. Her hands and feet moved closer together, and her body folded back on itself until it was almost split in half. It then skittered forward until her white eyes filled the screen, which scared me so badly that I jumped. She laughed, twisting her head like an owl and thrusting it between her thighs, blinking at the screen, and always smiling as if we were

I had no question that she was right, but it was enough to make me slam the laptop shut and break the picture of her smile without teeth.

I tried to get back to normal, but all I could do was watch TV, use social media, and apply for jobs I would never want. Something felt off, like I had forgotten something, and I felt very guilty. In the same way, I felt when I shut off the stream the first time I saw her. I really wanted not to, but the urge was too strong, so I went back.

She wasn't there the first time I logged in. I got a better look and saw her yoga mat, coffee table, and mags. Then I heard a soft sound coming from outside the screen. It was shaky and uneven, like a person speaking, and I turned it up loud. It wasn't clear to me whether it was singing or crying. I stopped the stream because I was sick.

That brings us back to yesterday.

I have been thinking about her for hours, wanting to know what she's up to and whether she's still telling stories with her invisible guest. As soon as I log in, her eyes hit the screen so quickly that I have to crawl backwards. The sound that can be heard in both her flat and mine is one of pain. As she moves away from me, I can understand why she moans without speaking. Her bare foot is stuck in the middle of her mouth, and the ball is stuck between her teeth, making her chin almost fall off. Tears are running down her face and gathering around her pursed lips. I know she's stuck because her arms are folded behind her head and her other leg is tucked under her first. There are a lot of broken bones in her body, and she can't talk. I just stare at the screen with my mouth open. Her eyes look at mine and seem to blink in recognition. As she does this, her sobs get stronger. Am I happy now? I'm not sure.

I had no idea what to do next. I had no idea what her name was, where she lived, or even if she was in the country. While she tried to get out of the cage, I sat there for a long time and watched her body twitch. I realised I could write after that.

Could you write down your address?

The message popped up on her screen.

The first real talk we had.

She could barely move her head, so she just barely shook it.

Once more, I asked, "Can you write with your nose?"

She looked at the page quickly and read what I had written.

She had to work really hard to roll over and land face-first on her keyboard.

"sivioshioshgeusoh" was what she wrote.

As my heart beat faster, I tried again.

When she tried to stand on one shoulder, I saw her body shaking with sobs. Finally, she carefully leaned forward and pressed her nose against the keys, which showed "3."

That was all! "Well done!" Please give me another number.

For many nervous minutes, she and I swapped numbers and letters. I typed them and told her, "You're good!" as many times as I could. I agree with you!"

Through the camera, we met again after almost an hour. She had just finished typing "apt12" when she stopped, shaking from the effort of holding herself up. "My eyes," she said, "shattered," and her face was filled with pain and fear. When I lost sight of her, I freaked out and asked, "What city am I in?" What kind of state am I in?"

I told her many times, "I'm here," "stay with me," "I need more," "help is on the way," and "I."

I called every police station in the area and looked for the address she gave me all over the country. It took me a while to explain. I looked for hours and then just waited by the phone and looked at the laptop screen to see a blank flat. "I'm here with you, you'll be safe, this will all end soon, you're not alone," was all I could think. The phone then rang, and I jumped when I heard it. I asked, "Have you found her? It's 1:00 in the morning." Tell me she's okay! "She's not okay, I just talked to her." I couldn't tell if the heavy sigh in his voice meant he was sad or angry. "We found her," he said in a soft but safe voice. "She was stuck in that position like you described, and she died of dehydration."

Photo by Conscious Design on Unsplash
Horror
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Psychology
Writing
True Story
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