by Monty Jay
We’re the people parents warned you about when you were growing up, the boogeymen beneath your bed. We are abominations to this merry-go-round town where everyone plays their part.
And nobody plays their parts better than the prince of all things high-and-mighty and his darling little princess that sits by his side.
“Hey, guys, ready to leave?” Rose mumbles, throwing her book bag over her shoulders as Silas pulls her into his chest, holding her to his body.
“Hey, Rosie girl.” I reach forward, ruffling her hair. “Let’s go find some trouble to get into, yeah?”
I’m joking obviously. Joking is the way I cover up the hollowness inside my chest. No one knows how the laughs echo inside of me. Because I have nothing left.
There is a light cough, followed by, “Lowlifes.” It’s low, muffled, and it causes the group to laugh under their breaths.
I roll my match across my upper row of teeth, grinning around it.
“Sorry, couldn’t hear you with those cocks in your mouth. Wanna say that a little louder, Sinclair?” I step past my friends towards his side of the booth.
Easton is as pretentious as Gucci flip-flops.
I’ve hated him since I met him—we all do. This mentality he carries that he’s a god amongst others. The way people think he walks on water, and he fuels that kind of attention.
Whoop-de-fucking-do.
His father is the dean of an overpriced university that’s sinking into the soggy ground. Hardly anything to brag over. But like most, Easton knows how to play the people here.
He smiles for the papers, wins football games, pretends he’s hot shit.
But even perfect has cracks, and he’s full of them.
“Rook.” Rose grabs my forearm, doing what she does best and trying to keep the peace.
I laugh her off. “No, Rosie, it’s fine,” I start, putting my hands on their table, looking down at Easton. “I’m just having a friendly conversation with my good pal Sinclair here. Isn’t that right?”
My eyes burn into his, daring him to make eye contact with me. I hope he does so he’ll see what everyone else does—the pits of hell. How I’ll roast him alive if he insults me or my family again.
Except he does what pussies do and looks everywhere but my gaze.
“I said—” He clears his throat, smiling through this uncomfortable position. “Have a good time.” He shrugs it off as something lighthearted.
He and I both know what he said.
Bold for saying it in the first place.
Smart for not repeating it to my face.
“That’s what I thought, champ.” I slap his back, hard, knocking him forward a bit. When silence remains, I decide to give Rose what she wants and leave.
“What a joke,” a softer, more graceful voice buzzes in my ears, “Bringing the insane clown posse in public, really, Rose? Could you be any more embarrassing?
Pressure falls on the match in my mouth as I tighten my jaw.
“I wonder what that says about you and your crew of Abercrombie and bitch.”
We make direct eye contact, and her blue-flame-colored irises battle with my own. Not for a second does she flinch, her gaze never leaving mine.
Sage Donahue.
What a fun time it would be spinning you around my finger.
She laughs pointedly. “Ha, that’s good. Especially for a guy I thought read at a fifth-grade level.” Her pale blue nails swirl in her tall glass, filled to the brim with a pink-colored milkshake. “The fact she insists on defending you four, I wonder, is she naive or do you just like ruining her life?”
Rose and Sage are twins biologically, with similar hair color and freckles. But Sage’s are more sporadic, wildly thrown around her face, and Rose’s seem more compact to her nose. In the way Rose tries to blend in, Sage does everything to stand out.
It’s rare that I go toe-to-toe with Ponderosa Springs’ Sweetheart. The girl with a notorious silver tongue. Of course, we have known of each other; how could we not? Small town, plus my best friend is dating her sister.
But we never went out of our way to cross paths.
“It could be that she isn’t afraid of living her life outside of her bubble-wrapped world. Maybe she enjoys not having to pretend. The dark side allows for you to do things you’d never think of doing in the light.”
My gaze follows her scarlet-painted lips, the way she wraps them around her straw, staining the white material. She takes a few sips before pulling back to reply, “Is that supposed to be an insult?”
I smirk. “No.” I shrug, sarcasm covering my tone. “Every set of twins has a sheep. Nothing to be ashamed of. I’m glad you can own it, Sage.”
“Sheep?”
“Yeah, you know, the one who submits to everyone’s expectations. The meek. Feeble.” I take my time with each word, tilting my head a bit to see how she’ll react to them. “Powerless. Watered-down twin.”
Sage Donahue is able to cut everything and everyone down with one sentence from those red lips. They all bow to her, follow her—nobody ever questions her.
Easton Sinclair may believe he’s running the show, but she’s always been pulling the strings.
Anger sizzles in her eyes, and my smile only grows.
She is burning with rage at my response, fighting to keep her cool, unbothered exterior intact, but that snow-white skin is starting to melt underneath the pressure of my words.
The urge sweeps through me, something that normally only happens when I set a physical fire, but this time, power pours over me, knowing I’ve set flames into the pit of her stomach.
“And that’s me? The sheep?” She arches her eyebrow, tossing that curtain of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder.
“If the shoe fits, princess.”
Something inside of her breaks—I see it, the flames contorting into a wildfire of emotion. Her mouth opens, ready to spill every harsh word she can possibly come up with.
I’m ready, ready to watch her erupt and explode all over me,
only to have it ruined by her boyfriend, who has stepped up to save the day.
“Alright, dickhead, that’s enough. You’re taking it too far.” Easton stands up, but I don’t bother moving from my hunched-over position on this table.
I simply glance over my shoulder, looking him up and down, running my tongue along the inside of my cheek. “Yeah? And what are you going to do about it, jockstrap?”
He might try to hire someone with daddy’s money to fight me, but he’d never do it himself. Too bad for his reputation, too much of a pussy, and he knows I’d put him six feet under.
“Rook,” Silas says behind me, “not in front of Rose.”
“Yeah, you heard him, dog. Follow your leader and his bitch,” Easton says, causing Sage to gasp as she grabs his forearm, jerking him back towards his seat.
I’m not the one who moves this time. Silas shifts so he’s standing next to me. There are certain buttons you don’t press when it comes to me and my friends. They’re all different, but when you hit them, you get similar reactions.
“Watch your mouth.”
Apparently, Easton had pumped himself full of testosterone today because he has enough balls to respond.
“Watch your mouth,” he mimics, rolling his eyes. “You think you’re tough? Walking around blasting emo music and wearing black? You’re fucking pathetic. Freaks. No one is afraid of you.”
“Guys, please, I just want to leave,” Rose whispers, pulling at our arms.
The match in my mouth snaps as Easton continues to dig his grave deeper and deeper.
“A son of a serial killer, a spoiled brat, a schizo, and a dude with a dead mom who apparently prayed to Satan. Congratulations, you’ve succeeded in becoming Ponderosa Springs’ very own freak show.”
I never was good at controlling myself.
Not my hunger, my lust, my anger, my urges.
I feel nails digging into the flesh of my arm, pulling me back, but all I can see is Easton Sinc
lair sweltering over a fire, begging me to put him out.
“Not here,” Silas mutters close to my ear. “Later.”
Letting this go is the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to back down. I don’t want to leave while he’s still wearing that smug grin on his face. But I know what will happen to him.
We always get our payback.
I cover my rage with a smile. “If you ever wanna back that pussy-ass mouth up, Easton, you know where to find me.”
My eyes cut to Sage, ignoring her shit sack of a boyfriend. “And you,” I start. “This was fun, doll. We should do it again.” I add a wink for good measure before I flick the match away, pluck the cherry out of her milkshake, and pop it in my mouth.
I chew the sweet fruit, watching as her diamond-cut jaw tenses as she peers over at me. I almost got her mask to crack, pushed her just a little too far, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not ready to watch the repercussion. For a few seconds, those eyes flick to my lips, watching the juice fall from my mouth.
Compulsive, menacing, heedless ideas circle my mind. I know I shouldn’t. I should leave her be. She’s the one girl I should not fuck with, but that makes her that much more enticing.
Sage is a poison apple. Too pretty for her own good, but could kill you with one single bite. Even at the thought of that, I’m still ready to sink my teeth into her.
I was never the one who thought things through. I act on impulse only, and right now, the only thing on my mind is showing her exactly what she’s been missing.
“I can’t wait for the day you come searching for trouble, princess. I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”
The cracking of skin against skin echoes in the space, my cheek burning from the contact she’d made with it. I still feel the way her nails dragged across me. The pain lingers on my skin, my chest throbbing for more.
I roll my tongue on the inside of my cheek, grinning smugly.
“Over my dead fucking body, pyro.” She seethes.
Yeah, I’m so going to enjoy watching her little boyfriend burn beneath my feet while I take his girl right out from underneath his fucking nose.
Sage
I used to get so annoyed in middle school when people would ask stupid questions about myself and Rose. Yes, we’re twins, but that doesn’t mean I can read her mind.
The constant Where’s your twin? Always referred to as “the twins,” even when you are by yourself.
It wasn’t until high school that we became our own people, she was traveling in one direction and I headed towards the top of the food chain. We were no longer referred to as “the twins.” Just Rosemary and Sage.
And there were times, like right now, when the moon was high and the dark covered my bedroom that I missed being attached to her. I missed being close to her in public, always being seen as one half of a whole.
Like clockwork, Rose’s soft cries of sadness had woken me up. This happens almost every other night, and I’m not surprised to see the green glow of my clock reads 3:34. I let out a sigh as I sit up, stretching my arms, my script for The Crucible sliding off my bed as I move. With practiced footwork, I navigate my room without having to click the light on, opening my door and heading to the room directly beside mine.
I’d once heard our bedrooms are direct reflections of who we are on the inside, and if that’s true, my twin sister and I are just as different as people think us to be.
Hers has band posters, potted plants, lots of black-colored clothing, and a night-light that projects stars on the ceiling, while mine is pink, organized, with lots of natural light and a fluffy white rug on the floor.
Parts of me that I keep locked away don’t want to accept that we had fallen so far apart from one another.
Her voice reminds me of my reason for even coming inside here in the first place.
With ease, I move to her bed, slipping into the space next to her. The soft cotton sheets wrap me up, the smell of smoke and cologne stuck to the bed from Silas’s hoodie she’s wearing.
Using the tips of my fingers, I smooth the frown on her face, relaxing the muscles on her forehead. Dragging them down her nose, soothing her awake, I let her know that whatever monster she’s running from in her head, he isn’t real.
She moves with my touch, consciousness on the verge of taking over.
“It’s just a dream, Ro, you’re okay,” I whisper, waiting for her to realize that she is in fact trapped in a nightmare and that at any moment she can leave that place.
Which she does after a few more minutes of drawing on her face with my finger. She eventually allows her eyes to flutter open, taking a moment to adjust to reality.
“Did I wake—” She gets caught in a yawn. “—you up?”
I shake my head. “No, I was on the way to the bathroom and heard you rolling around,” I lie.
Grabbing the top portion of her comforter, she throws it over both of our heads. We’re encased in the darkness beneath her blanket, and I’m transformed back to a time when we were little girls and refused to sleep in separate beds. When I wasn’t jaded and the world was still full of possibilities. And it is, just not here, not in this town. At night when our parents were asleep, we’d crawl beneath the blankets and tell each other stories or dreams.
Below these blankets, I can take off the mask and be that little girl again. No looking over my shoulder to see who is watching, no insults to cut others down so I remain on top. I have nothing to fear right now.
“What was the nightmare about?”
“Same thing as always. Dark hallways, strange voices.”
There are times I’m so envious of how gentle and open Rose is. There are other times that I hate myself for trying to pick that apart because I’m jealous.
Jealous that I’m the one bad things happened to.
Jealous that she still has the ability to care for others. To see the good in them.
While I’m soaking in a vat of black tar that won’t seem to let me go.
“I’m sorry for being mean the other day and at the diner,” I whisper, tucking my hands beneath my head as I look over at her. The light from her stars creeps through the spaces on her blanket, giving us minimal light.
Rose smiles, and my heart aches a bit at how generous and kind she is. How easily she forgives. It’s my biggest concern with her and Silas. What if one of them hurt her? What if he hurts her? And she just keeps letting him because when Rosemary loves someone or something, she loves it so hard and it doesn’t matter how they treat her.
Our parents are the perfect example.
“It’s alright, Sage,” she responds. “I know it’s because you feel like you have to be mean to get out of this place without getting hurt. I just…I don’t know why. You used to be so happy and free, then one day you just changed. Why won’t you tell me what happened to you?”
“Can we not talk about me? I cannot express to you how badly I don’t want to talk about myself right now.”
“I miss talking about you. The old you. Ya know, the one that didn’t care if she was prom queen or what the world thought of her? The one who carried around tattered scripts and pretended she was Meryl Streep receiving an Oscar. Do you remember her?”
I remember her, and one day, I’ll be that girl again. The day I leave this place, I’ll go back to my old self, and everything will be as it was. She just doesn’t understand that if I’m here, in this toxic waste of a town, it will eat me alive.
I will be completely consumed by the soot, drowned in the black tar of misery that is seeping through the cracks here.
“She’s dead, okay? Why can’t you just let it fucking be, Rose,” I snap with unnecessary anger that was never meant to be directed at her. It had always been towards the ones who turned me into this.
In these moments of hostility, I hate myself more for wishing it were her that went through what I did. That I was the one who lived without a care in the world. The one who hadn’t been jaded.
And those thoughts keep me awake a
t night. Make me hate myself even more. Because I never, ever want my sister to go through what I did.
“Let’s talk about you, okay? How are you? Are you doing alright? Your piece looks like it’s finally coming together.”
When I say “coming together,” I mean “I have no idea what you are trying to create, but I support you either way.” Rosemary has a thing for sculptures made from broken glass, any kind, but half the time I have no idea what the hell they are supposed to be.
“I—” she starts. “I’m alright. The sculptures are fine. Silas and I are arguing a lot lately though.”
My eyebrows shoot up in alarm. “Why? What did he do?”
“Calm down. He didn’t do anything wrong.” She breathes out. “I swear you just look for reasons to hate him.”
“Well, he doesn’t make it hard to do.”
“We are fighting because I don’t want him to go to Hollow Heights. I want him to leave. All the boys are headed to the East Coast, and I want that for him. You know Mom and Dad will stroke out before I go to school anywhere else, but I don’t want him to stay here.”
They’re going to do more than stroke out when they find out I’m not going to that hellhole, even if they don’t give me money for college. I’ve come to terms that I will live in a box before I go there.
“Long-distance isn’t an option?” I offer, even though I want to say, “Tell him to kick fucking rocks.” I know she loves him, and I don’t want to see her hurt. Ever. Even when I’m the one doing the damage.
“He doesn’t want to do that when he knows we could just be together, but I’m afraid he’ll hate me when we are older. What if we break up? Then he stayed here for no reason.” Even in the dim lighting, I can see the tears slipping down her cheeks, and her voice is wet. “I love him, Sage. I love him so much it physically takes my breath away, and I can’t have him hate me.”
With ease, I reach over, wiping her tears with my thumb. “No tears for boys. We are too pretty for that.”
She laughs wistfully. “Not funny. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me to leave him.”
I bite my bottom lip. “Wellll,” I drawl out.
