The Stolen Twin

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  I stumbled through the hallway – passing the dining area, passing people who turned to stare. Eyes wide, mouths open. Who could blame them? A coughing, hysterical female scuttling through the halls.

  “Kit.” A familiar voice. Brandi. She was sitting at a table with a couple of her sorority sisters. Relief washed over me, so sweet it burned.

  “Kit, what the hell?” Brandi jogged toward me.

  I tried to tell her. I wanted to tell her. But now that relief had replaced terror, my lungs decided they had been ignored long enough. I started coughing so hard I almost fell over.

  “Jesus, Kit,” Brandi put her arm around me and patted my back.

  “Bathroom,” I managed to gasp. “I … bathroom.”

  Propping me up, she half led, half dragged me to the bathroom. Right then, David appeared, running, coat open, eyes wild, hair sticking up all over.

  “Kit,” he exclaimed, stopping abruptly, skidding on the slick floor. “Kit, didn’t you hear me call out for you? Why were you running like that? Did someone do something to you?”

  He righted himself and came toward me. I jerked away. “Him.” I gasped to Brandi, my coughing preventing me from saying more. Brandi studied me for a second. Whatever she saw in my face must have convinced her, because she nodded and pushed me toward the bathroom.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” I heard her say coolly. “I’m Brandi, Kit’s roommate.”

  As soon as the bathroom door swung closed, I collapsed on the floor. Between coughs, I crawled into one of the stalls and locked the door. Luckily the bathroom was empty.

  It seemed to take forever to clear out my lungs. It took even longer to stop coughing. Finally I unlocked the stall, washed my hands, washed my face and combed my hair. I still looked pale and my chest hurt horribly, but at least I could go out and deal with David.

  He had turned on the charm big time for Brandi, smiling and talking animatedly. I couldn’t tell if she had bought his act or not – her expression was flat, neutral.

  “Kit,” he called, his voice warm, concerned, caring – absolutely nothing like his shouts from the library stairwell. It was as though it had never happened at all.

  He held his hands out, stepping toward me. “What happened to scare you so? Why didn’t you stop? Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  I marched over to him. “You know damn well why I didn’t stop. I was trying to get away from you!” I slapped his hands away.

  He looked mystified, his eyes darting back and forth between Brandi and me. “What are you talking about? I never –”

  “Stop right now with this innocent act. I’m not in the mood for it.” I advanced toward him, jabbing with my finger. He would not sweet-talk me into believing this was some sort of misunderstanding. “You attacked me in the stairwell of the library, you shook me –“

  “He attacked you?” Brandi cut in, incredulously.

  David held both palms up, a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t attack you in the stairwell, you misinterpreted –”

  I interrupted, my voice rising. “David, I don’t want to talk about this right now. In fact, I don’t want to talk to you at all right now. Please leave.”

  He gazed at me plaintively, his eyes soft, begging me to listen. “But –”

  “If you don’t leave right now, I’ll call campus police.”

  David’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Try me.”

  He looked down, but not before I saw anger flash in his eyes.

  The same anger I saw in the stairwell.

  When finally he raised his eyes, he had smoothed his features into a neutral, emotionless expression. “I can see you’re not in the mood to listen to reason, so I’ll go. I certainly don’t want to add to your distress. I’ll give you a call later to see if you’re ready to talk.”

  He started to walk away, but my voice stopped him. “Don’t bother calling me. I’ll call you when and IF I’m ready to talk to you. If I were you, I wouldn’t spend a lot of time waiting for the phone to ring. That’s just a friendly piece of advice, since I wouldn’t want you to waste your time or anything.”

  The color drained from his face – such a contrast against the anger brightening in his eyes. He closed his eyes and gave himself a little shake, as if he was collecting himself. When he opened them, his expression had returned to neutral. He smiled thinly and strode away.

  I watched him disappear before turning to Brandi. She was studying me, arms crossed, one hip jutting out. “He really attacked you?”

  “What, you think I’m making it up?” I rubbed my neck. Along with the agony in my chest, my neck had started to throb. With my luck, I had whiplash.

  “No, of course not. I’m just … I’m surprised. That’s all.”

  “Why are you surprised? You’re the one who thought he could be a mad, obsessed stalker.” I waved at Brandi’s sorority sisters. Needless to say, they had been mesmerized by the David-and-Kit Show. No sense in trying to keep this a secret from Tommy.

  “Yeah. Guess I was right.” She smiled ironically. “Lucky you.”

  Chapter 11

  “We should drive down that road,” my mother said, her finger pointing out the window. “That’s the right road.”

  My father turned his head, slowly, deliberately. He nodded, quietly, leisurely. My mother’s finger never stopped pointing.

  I turned my head as well, my movements as sluggish as my father’s. Cat was sitting next to me. “Kit Cat,” she said. “First there were two, then there was one.” She was seven, the same age as me.

  “What did you do with my doll?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. They can’t see me.” She tilted her head toward my parents.

  “You did something to my doll. What was it?” I was fretting, sure I was missing something important.

  She patted my hand. “Don’t be afraid, Kit. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

  The car jerked, as if it had made the transition from pavement to dirt. “Almost there,” Cat said. “Kit Cat. You can never go back.”

  The church loomed in front of us. My parents stepped out of the car. “Hurry, Kit,” my mother said.

  “Yeah, hurry,” Cat echoed, and started to slide out. I clutched her arm.

  “What did you do with my doll? You have to tell me. What did you do?” Her arm melted out of my grasp. Then I was outside the car, trotting behind my parents.

  To the church. To the graveyard. My chest tightened, filled with fluids.

  The bell started ringing, low and melodious.

  “Ahh, the bell has rung. It has begun.” Cat fell into step beside me. The wolves yipped and howled, sounding like children – children playing, children dying.

  I could see the graveyard now, just a piece of it, peering out from behind the church.

  My breathing hitched in my chest. I started to cough. “Tell me what you did with the doll. I have to know. Before it’s too late.” My coughing worsened. More of the graveyard appeared. People were standing around a grave, a freshly dug grave. It was so fresh I could smell it – wet, dank, earthy. Any second now the black evil Being will appear. I will be powerless against it without the doll.

  “Ahh, the doll,” Cat said. “What about the innocent? Why aren’t you concerned about the innocent?”

  I gasped, tearing at my chest, my lungs burning the air I so desperately needed. “What innocent? I don’t know about the innocent. Only the doll.” I could now see the shadow of the evil Being – long, black, misshapen. It started stretching, bending and twisting, falling over the grave. The dirt beneath the shadow began to swell, to ripple, like someone or something had been buried alive and was now clawing its way out. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. I collapsed, fighting to breathe.<
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  Cat towered over me as I lay huddled on the ground, but she was no longer seven. Now she was the age I saw her at the Halloween party, her pink dress glowing, her wings sparkling in the weak sunlight. She was all brightness and color, especially vivid against the gray, cloudy graveyard. Even her scent was so much more alive – wild, green and growing – masking the dark, damp smell of the grave.

  She stared down at me, sadness radiating off her. “Oh, Kit,” she sighed. “Don’t you understand? The doll is a liar.”

  I awoke with a jolt, gasping for breath, my head slipping off my propped arm and almost hitting the desk. Fumbling for my inhaler, I struggled to find my bearings. Where the hell was I?

  “Don’t worry,” Joe whispered from the seat next to mine, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. “You didn’t miss anything important.”

  Now I knew. I had fallen asleep in Abnormal Psych class.

  In between sucking on my inhaler, I returned Joe’s smile, then faced my professor. Last night I had been too wound up to even attempt sleep for several hours. When I finally did crawl into bed, all I could think about was the transformed church nightmare, since it seemed to go hand-in-hand with my David encounters. I ended up snapping on the light and studying instead – reading Clarissa of all things. At least I had finally almost finished it. Then I could start Evelina. I had high hopes for Evelina, since a woman wrote it. With any luck, it would portray women a bit more positively than Richardson had.

  Returning my inhaler to my purse, I fished out a bottle of water and a couple of pieces of beef jerky to gnaw on. The more calories the merrier. Besides, eating would help keep me awake.

  I took a big bite of the jerky. Early this morning I had fallen into a restless sleep – no dreams, but not very refreshing either. Then, I drift off in class and have the church dream. If I didn’t know better, I would think the church dream had a mind of its own. It wanted to have its say regardless of what I wanted, or what I did. Great. I get to be stalked by both David and a scary dream. Must be my lucky day.

  Why did the dream change in the first place? It didn’t make sense. And why does it keep changing? And what about this doll question? Sure Cat and I played with dolls, but none had been terribly special. Why would I ask about a doll? And why would she say there had never been a doll?

  Just thinking about that made my skin crawl. Literally. As though millions of creepy long-legged bugs had scattered all over me. I wondered if I would ever sleep again. Maybe I should see if Riverview offered a dream interpretation course. On second thought, maybe I didn’t want the dream interpreted after all.

  The bell rang. Thankfully. Maybe my next class would do a better job distracting me from my thoughts.

  “I can give you my notes.” Joe slid his notebook into his backpack. One of Tommy’s teammates, he and I usually sat together in class, exchanging notes and gentle flirtation. Even now, after the breakup, he continued to treat me the same as before – one of the few who did.

  “Thanks, I’d like that.” I started to close my notebook when something stopped me. Something scrawled on the bottom of the page.

  Joe said something else, but I had quit listening. Icy fingers trailed down my back, playing my spine like piano keys. My breath hitched in my throat.

  What did you do with my doll?

  That sentence was scribbled across the page, the writing so large and childish I barely recognized it as my own. Quickly I snapped my notebook shut.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, taking a few deep breaths. “What were you saying?” The medicine from the inhaler continued to do its magic and my breathing remained normal.

  He studied me, his expression full of concern. “I asked if you were all right.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I stood abruptly, rattling the desk in my haste. I jammed my notebook into my backpack. If I had to look at those words one second longer, I would run screaming out of the classroom.

  “If there’s anything I can do,” he began as we pulled on our coats and walked to the door.

  “Your notes would be perfect,” I interrupted, keeping my voice light. “I guess I should stop pulling all-nighters.” I forced myself to smile. He still looked uncertain, but he smiled back.

  “Kit.” I recognized David’s voice a second before I saw him. I closed my eyes – why wouldn’t he leave me alone?

  He rushed over, his expression imploring, a covered plastic cup in one hand, a bag in the other.

  He thrust them at me. “Kit, I’m so sorry about everything. Can we talk?”

  I kept my hands down as I tried to stride past him, anger already coursing through me. At least today I had a football player next to me. “David, what did I say last night? Don’t call me – remember? While I’ll concede you haven’t, this is sort of the same idea.”

  David matched my pace. “But I have to talk to you. I think you got the wrong impression last night.”

  “Oh, I bet I did.” I refused to look at him.

  “You heard the lady,” Joe said, leaning over from my other side. “Beat it.”

  David’s face turned red. “This matter doesn’t concern you. It’s between me and Kit.”

  “If Kit doesn’t want to talk to you, then it’s my concern. She doesn’t, so I suggest you leave her alone.”

  “Kit, please, just five minutes. I’m begging you,” David said.

  “Look buddy, she doesn’t want to talk to you. Why is this so tough for you to understand?” Joe strode closer to me, glaring at David.

  “I told you this has nothing to do with you.” David’s eyes were beginning to bulge. “Kit, if I could only have five minutes … ”

  “Leave her … ”

  “All right.” I held my hands up. “Time out, before someone gets hurt. David, I’ll give you your five minutes.”

  “Alone?”

  I gritted my teeth. David looked like a kicked puppy dog. “Fine,” I said, against my better judgment. “Five minutes. That’s all.”

  Joe touched my arm. “Kit, you sure?”

  I waved him back. “It’s okay, Joe. Thanks.”

  “I’ll be right over here.” Joe backed off the sidewalk to stand near a skinny, naked tree. I waved at him again as I followed David to an undisturbed area of dead grass next to the psych building.

  “Your five minutes are ticking. Better make this fast, I have to get to class.” I crossed my arms and glared at him.

  David’s eyes were on Joe. “Is he your boyfriend too?”

  “That’s it, your five minutes are up.” I started to leave.

  He blocked my path. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t called for. Breakfast?” He tried again to hand me the food and coffee, but I refused to uncross my arms, only reluctantly deciding to stay.

  “You’re on borrowed time here.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He put the items on the ground. “Look, I was totally wrong. I realized that as soon as it happened. I’m totally at fault here.”

  I nodded. “Great. You want a medal or something?”

  He reached out to touch me, but pulled back before actually making contact. “It’s just … I got a little crazy, that’s all. I mean, I care so much for you. I feel like we have this connection, this bond. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Then, you lie to me about your plans, I find you with your ex-boyfriend, and I got a little jealous. That’s all.”

  “You didn’t get a little jealous, you got a lot jealous.”

  “I know, I know. It will never happen again. I’m so sorry. I could never, ever hurt you.”

  “But you did hurt me. And you scared me as well.”

  He brought his hands to his mouth. “And I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that.”

  I looked away, watching the students shuffle zombie-like to their next class. Against my will, I felt some of my anger drain away. He did have a
point. After all, from his point of view, it did look like I had lied to be with my ex-boyfriend. Would I have been any less jealous if our roles had been reversed?

  Looming over me. Hissing into my face. “What? I’m not good enough for you because I don’t play football?” Shaking me. Voice echoing eerily in the stairwell. Pounding footsteps. “Kit, you know you can’t outrun me. Just stop.”

  I twisted my face away, willing those images to stop. I needed to get away from him, but I had to do it without provoking his rage. “If you had only asked, you would have known I didn’t have plans to see Tommy. He just showed up and wanted to be my study partner. We had a fight about it and I left. There was no reason for you to be jealous.”

  “I know. I know I handled it so badly. It’s just that I already care about you so much. Can we try again? Will you give me another chance?”

  I studied him. His eyes beseeched me so eloquently. I thought we had a bond as well. And then last night happened and sixty-five roses happened and Bacomb Hill happened. There were many things I didn’t understand right now, but I knew one thing – I was done with David.

  “I understand better what you were going through last night, and I do forgive you for your … for what happened. But, David, I don’t think a relationship is the right thing now, for either of us. I think we need a little space to think things through.”

  Although David’s face had brightened at the beginning of my speech, by the end he looked crushed. “I don’t need any space to think things through,” he insisted. “I know exactly what I want.”

  I sighed. “All right, then I need some space. I need to think things through. And I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other for a while. At all. That includes showing up unexpectedly at my classes. I thought you understood I don’t like commitments or plans. I don’t want to be pinned down.”