by Alyne Robers
I don't believe what I'm reading. A photo glares back at me and the air leaves my lungs.
"You don't know what you're talking about. Let me see her."
A strangled cry fills the room. It must be from me but I feel like I've left my body. My heart has stopped. My blood has frozen in my veins. My lungs don't expand to inhale.
The noise outside the door doesn't matter as I look at the other articles and photos on the desk.
"No. No. No," I mutter to myself, dropping all the pages to the floor.
I can't believe what I'm looking at, but somewhere, deep in my broken heart, I know it's true. Surrounded by secrets and lies, I can find the truth in this.
The door swings open and both men look at me in shock. Miles approaches me like I'm a wild animal.
"London?"
I scream. It's manic and loud. It rips from inside me, tearing up my throat on the way out. The guys jump and I see the pity in their eyes.
"No. No. No," I keep repeating.
It can't be true. I finally do run like I should have long ago. In my frenzy and their shock, I get past them and out the door. I sprint down the hall with a speed I didn't know I possessed. Kane and Miles are yelling for me to stop. Miles is pleading with me, begging me to come back.
I don't look back as I take the stairs down to the garage. The tires squeal as I punch the gas and reverse out of the spot. Miles and Kane try to stop me but I swerve around them. I can't trust them to tell me the truth. They both have been lying to me all this time. I feel so betrayed, I don't know who to believe anymore. I need to see it for myself.
The interstate is clear as I recklessly speed down it. I ignore the drizzle hitting the windshield. I don't know if a hurricane could deter my path now. The five-hour drive goes by in a blur. I'm shaking and feel like I'm going to vomit by the time I see the familiar sign for my hometown. I speed down the quiet streets. It's a miracle that I make it alive to my old home.
A miracle is the last word I should use to describe my homecoming.
Tragedy would be more fitting.
I pull into my driveway, feeling numb and wrecked at the same time. I step out into the rain, and the cold raindrops try to pull me from this nightmare. I walk toward my home, praying Brooklyn will crawl into bed with me any moment and wake me up. I need to press my hand to hers so I know I will be okay.
I fall to my knees as a flash of lightning lights up the sky. My body trembles. From the cold. From the sorrow. From the insanity of it all.
"London. Baby, talk to me." Kane is next to me, trying to help me up. He holds my chin, trying to see into my lifeless eyes.
I don't know how long I've been standing here, but I'm soaked and shivering.
"London! Get up," Miles shouts to me even though he is right next to me.
Everything sounds muted. Miles grabs my other arm but my knees give out. The rain pours down on me so hard that I can't tell the difference between it and the tears on my face.
I stare ahead and images assault my memory. I grip my head in pain as they wash over me. Each one more painful than the last. I pull at my hair as the thunder drowns out my cries.
Kane tries to pull me to my feet, but I fight him. I pound on his chest and scream. Breaking from his hold, I run for the house I was born and lived in my entire life. The home that holds every memory of my two-person family.
A bolt of lightning fills the sky. It lights up the pile of ash and coal where my home once stood.
Through the thunder and pounding rain, my pained voice carries on the blowing wind.
"Whose body was it? Who am I?"
TWENTY-SIX
Brooklyn
Three Months Earlier.
Most animals can sense danger. Humans are still animals even though we like to think we don't act like it. I can sense danger now. I feel like the electricity in the air before a summer storm. It's thick in the air, wrapping around my throat and making it hard to breathe.
I toss my cigarette into the pond and slowly stand from the fallen tree I sit on. My body buzzes with awareness. I stand in the dark yard and listen, every sense on high alert. The crickets and frogs fade into the background. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and goosebumps cover my bare arms.
Something is wrong. Every cell in my body is screaming to run, that I'm in danger.
I hear the sound of gravel crunching under tires. The sweep of headlights over the grass.
He's home.
The screen door slams shut and I watch the house as one by one, every light on the first floor starts to flick on. I run up the yard, the dew on the grass making it hard to gain enough traction for my usual speed. Even in the darkest night, I know the path from the back pond to the house.
The upstairs is still dark but I know that London is probably already awake. If my heart is racing like this, hers is, too. I walk up the back deck, holding my breath like he won't see me if I'm not breathing. I hear him cursing inside, glass breaking, and his heavy boots pounding on the floor. Each step is damning—heavy in my head like it's the most important sound I will ever hear.
I want to run, to get as far away from this prison of a house as fast as possible. The muscles in my body flex and contract, ready to flee. But I don't move. I can't leave her here with him. Not tonight.
My heart hammers against my ribs as a new sound joins the soundtrack to our horror movie. Liquid splashes and spreads on the cracked and worn floors. His manic laugh follows, sending a shiver down my spine in fear.
He stumbles through the house, continuing to soak the floors with the red container. The smell drifts outside and lands like a lead weight in my stomach.
No.
I want to scream but my throat closes up. My eyes dart to the staircase inside, then to Miles's house next door. Do I have time to get help? Can I risk it when my sister is still inside?
The answer is clear in my head. The old wood planks of the deck creak under my quick footsteps. The sliding screen door is even louder. The smell is thick as I race to the stairs.
"Hey!" my dad shouts behind me. He trips and the thud of him hitting the floor is a small victory.
Blood hums in my ears as I run to the bedroom.
"Brooklyn?" London stares at me, wide-eyed and terrified. It's like looking in a mirror.
We meet each other in the center of the room, clinging to each other.
We are not alone. We can make it through anything as long as we are together. Those are the words we would whisper together when times got rough. We always made it through.
"We need to go," I tell her. "We can't hide."
I tug on her arm and she follows. I feel her trembles, or maybe they are mine. Probably both.
"Fucking hate you bitches!"
The words don't hurt anymore. They used to when we were young enough to think that since because he was our dad, he would love us unconditionally. Eventually we realized he would never love us. He loved one person and we took her away from him.
"This is all your fault."
More thuds and splashing. I can smell it on the landing where we brace ourselves. One more deep breath. We take it together, perfectly in sync. We make eye contact once more before taking that step. A thousand of words are said in that quick glance.
The stairs squeak as we come down, announcing our presence to the seething monster. He turns, red-faced and snarling. Blood-shot eyes zone in on us.
"You!" He drops the red can on the floor, dumping the rest of the gasoline at his feet.
"Run," I whisper and pull London behind me.
We jump the last few steps and I shove her toward the back door while I turn for the front. He's drunk and slow. He won't be able to pick one to chase after quick enough.
My feet slam against the floor, echoing with London's. I can see the moon light shining in from the front door. We will disappear into the darkness, never to return. His heavy boots pound behind me, followed by a scream.
My heart seizes and I spin easily on the gasolin
e-drenched floor. London is on the floor and her hair is in his grasp. Her screams rip through my skin, tearing up my insides. I'm moving away from escape without thought.
"Let her go!" I growl, flinging myself on his back.
The asshole stumbles, swaying and knocking us both into the wall. The plaster cracks under our impact.
"Brooklyn!" London shouts for me as she scrambles to her feet.
I punch at his back but I'm pinned to the wall with his shoulder as he reaches into his front pocket.
"Go!" I yell at London even though I know she couldn't leave me anymore than I could leave her.
If we both die in this place, it will be because our love for each other.
Our dad lunges forward, reaching for her. I fall to the floor and grab at his legs. I hear the flick of his lighter and my heart stops. London breaks from his hold and hits the wall. I look between her and the back door. She's so close.
I look her in the eyes. GO!
The lighter falls to the floor in slow motion as I watch her shake her head. Tears form in both our eyes as it hits the floor.
There's no explosion or flames because unlike a match, his lighter goes off when he lets go. In the moment it takes for him to realize he didn't just kill his whole family, I jump to my feet.
I lunge for London, pushing her forward. Screaming for her to run. The door is right there. Listening past the screaming, you can hear the crickets in the darkness. Their songs are still singing the forest to sleep like nothing is happening in this little house.
"Fucking bitch!" My hair is pulled and I'm yanked back.
"Go!" I plead with my sister. "Get help."
She doesn't want to leave because we both know help would be too late. It's already too late for us. I feel his weight on my back, crushing me. He curses at us while I beg London to run. There is only one way out of this.
I reach into my front pocket, pulling out my favorite Zippo lighter.
He pushes off me, going for my sister.
I look into my sister's eyes one last time while I flick it open and light it. My heart breaks because I can see hers breaking. He won't reach her. I raise my hand.
"I love you," I say before she turns away.
I drop the lighter to the floor.
I did what my father failed to do. I set the house ablaze. The flame drops into the gasoline and quickly spreads. Years of abuse, hate and love have weathered the floors and walls, making the perfect firewood. Reds, yellows, and oranges spread over the floors, up the curtains and walls.
The man who brought us into this world and then made it a living hell doesn't make it far enough. Heat engulfs us both.
I hear London's screams in the distance. Outside.
After years of protecting each other, we won't need to anymore. I was able to do that for her. London will run. Miles will help her. Mrs. Walker will save her.
She will be okay.
She will live.
I just hope she can live without me.
TWENTY-SEVEN
...
I sit in the ambulance in my own driveway. The lights flash on the empty yard, overgrown from abandon. The wool blanket wrapped around me is itchy but I'm too numb to shrug it off. I stare blankly while a police officer and paramedic talk to Miles, his mom, and Kane. Their voices are muffled through the rain and the haze in my mind.
"Miss, can you tell me your name?" the other paramedic asks. He's been hovering and asking me questions for a while now. I just want them to leave me alone.
"Brooklyn Gates."
He shuffles and flashes a light in my eyes again. I glare at him, ready to take the tiny flashlight from him and toss it into the brush. He would never find it again.
"Miss, what is your name?"
"London Gates."
"Can you tell me who you are?"
"Brooklyn Gates."
"Who are you?"
"London Gates."
The other paramedic joins us, saying something in his ear quietly. I get another sympathetic look before they step aside. Miles stands behind them, watching me, with grief weighing him down. I see it in his body, his eyes. His eye is black and blue, his lip split. Kane stands next to him with a bruised jaw, watching me carefully.
"London?" Miles gently frames my face with his hands. They are warm on my ice-cold skin.
"I don't know," I whisper.
I have memories of both London and Brooklyn. Each one slowly trickling in like grains of sand in an hour glass. The more time passes, the more confused I become. I look past him and see the rubble of what was once my home. Pieces of the puzzle are falling in place.
Mrs. Walker sits beside me, brushing my wet hair from my face. It's a sweet and motherly gesture that splits the crack in my heart deeper. She cups my cheeks and looks at my face, trying to find the truth to who I am. I hope she can see it because I can't. Not anymore.
"London has a birth mark on her hip," she says, looking at the boys.
"She does," Kane confirms quietly.
Two words just shattered my reality. I was one girl, melted into two in a fire, and become one again in the rain.
I try to keep out the memories, but they come in anyways. The last night of my life flashes before my eyes. I climb out of the ambulance and toward where my front porch used to be. The same front porch I knelt on, screaming for my sister to emerge from the flames. The same one that my father laid on, gasping for air.
I fall to my knees in the wet grass. Miles kneels before me, blocking my view. It doesn't matter. I can see it all anyway.
That last night plays in my head like a movie. The house being swallowed by fire. It's not unlike my nightmares that haunted me for weeks.
"You knew?" I ask, looking into Miles eyes.
"I couldn't tell you," he chokes. "And then you—you didn't know, and I couldn't do that to you."
I close my eyes but it doesn't stop that night and every night after from replaying in my mind.
"Tell me now."
"London, you need to get to the hospital."
"Tell me now!" I shout, my voice harsh and raspy.
Miles crumples and holds my hands. I don't feel the warmth of them. I don't feel a thing.
"She's gone, London." Sobs shake his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, but she's gone."
I feel half of me dying. It's dying right here where she died. I'm lifted and carried somewhere but I don't see where. I don't even care. Colors blur in front of me and for the first time, I don't think they're pretty. I don't see the beauty of the lights or the night sky.
The world is black and white when I'm no longer whole. I'm just a chunk of what I used to be. An ugly piece of flesh and bones, torn from a bigger piece of something beautiful and amazing.
I'm moving but have no direction. Words are said to me, but I don't hear them. I don't want to.
I want to go back to yesterday when I didn't know the truth. I created my own world built of lies.
The lies were so vivid, I thought they were real.
TWENTY-EIGHT
London
I wish my life was a book. I want to go back to the beginning and follow along as the last several months unfolded. Read chapter by chapter. Only this time, I would see the lives of two girls as one. One girl living the lie as two.
For all my life, it was "London and Brooklyn." Two names merged as one.
Now it's just one. One heartbroken girl left. How does she go on without the other half of herself?
It's days before I speak again. My first words are screaming at a nurse to leave me alone. I'm poked and examined. So many questions with no answers. I don't trust my own mind anymore. For all know, all this isn't really happening either.
It doesn't take a psychiatrist to tell me what happened to me. I lost my twin sister and the person I loved the most in this world. Unable to cope without her, I kept her alive in my mind. I lived for her, became her as if she had never perished. When you know someone so deeply and thoroughly, it's not hard to fool everyone, includin
g yourself.
With the illusion broken, I can look back at the past few months. I was a stripper and a photographer. I fooled around with two different men at the same time. Miles confessed his love to me. Kane let down his armor for me. Do I love them both? Do either of them love me? Do I even love me?
The drugs keep me from slipping back into my fantasy world. I want to so badly so I can escape the suffocating grief that overpowers me. It was better when I thought she was still here. It's ironic how deep my problems really were, and I was worried about bills and photos. Delusional.
I look up when I hear a soft knock on my door, and Mrs. Walker comes in. She brings me flowers and gives me a kiss on my forehead. I'm in the chair between my bed and the large window. There are bars on the window so I can't escape.
Mrs. Walker sits on the bed and watches the clouds roll in with me. It might storm tonight and I'll have no one to hold me through it.
"You're losing weight," she comments, handing me a candy bar.
Even with no appetite, I take it anyway for the sole reason that I haven't been allowed anything but their disgusting hospital food.
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," she says.
"I do."
"Ask them. I'll answer. If you won't talk to the doctors here, at least talk to someone who loves you."
My heart aches because the one person who loved me the most is gone.
"I don't know if I'll believe the answers."
"I wouldn't lie to you, sweetheart."
"Everything is a lie to me."
"Well, let's try to find the truth."
I nod and look down at my hands in my lap. They look limp and useless. I have so many questions but I'm not even sure where to start.
"My dad?" I finally ask. Mrs. Walker sighs, and I'm not sure if it's relief or disappointment.
"Still at Sun Ray. He suffered some third degree burns and went through his detox there. When he's sober and medically able, he will be moved to State Prison."
I look up at her in shock. It's the first zap of any emotion other than sadness I've felt in a long time.
