Hidden Identities // H.S

Chapter 4

*Few mentions of suicide/death*

Avalon Miriam Scott. Miriam after my grandma from my mom's side. Avalon after Frankie Avalon. The person I once was for nearly twenty-three years.

I'll admit, I miss my name. I mean it's the name I had for most of my life. The name I had to constantly correct teachers on, the name that most substitutes would butcher when I thought it was pretty simple to pronounce. They'd always pronounce it Aye-vuh-lon. Avalon was a name that I grew to love in College.

It was the only thing that stuck out about me. The one thing that made people say 'cool name' or 'what a unique name'.

Switching from a unique name to a simple name in a day was hard to process. It was hard to even go by it.

Jane.

Picking out a new name was like deciding on a username for social media. There are already a hundred other Jane's out there. Which was perfect because it's harder to find me.

Like I've said before, I had to make my name common. Something that wouldn't stand out to anyone. My second choice was Melody. I kind of regret not choosing Melody. But when I brought it up to Valerie she said the name didn't suit me.

I don't know how Melody didn't suit me but Jane did.

If I ever see my sisters again it won't be the three A's anymore. Amaya, Avalon, and Allie.

My older sister's name was just a coincidence but by the time it came to my baby sister's name, it had to become an A name. It'd be weird if she wasn't an A name.

I miss my sisters. I miss my niece, Chloe. I miss my little sister talking about drama at her high school. I miss laughing with them.

We call each other once a month. We have to.

We can't risk anything to lead Christopher to find me. He works with a bunch of technical stuff that I can't fathom what exactly he does. He's traced my phone calls before. If he did it back then he can do it now.

We only speak for ten minutes. Sometimes we send each other letters. But we got impatient waiting around for them to arrive. Hearing my sisters' voices once a month is therapeutic to me. I miss them so much, they don't even know.

My older sister Amaya is five years older than me. At first, we hated each other's guts like every other sibling would. Around high school is when I started getting close to her.

I was there in the delivery room with her while she delivered my niece. Her baby's dad is a total deadbeat and they're better off without him.

It was a lot to handle at only fifteen.

I'll admit, some days I miss my mother. I miss how she used to be before something in her changed. One day she went to work and came back another person. She made us call her mother because it sounded more respectful. She stopped being so affectionate with us. She stopped taking us to the ice cream shop every time we got straight A's.

I miss the nicknames she'd call me. I miss her smile and contagious laugh.

I miss my dad. Every Sunday evening we'd go to the baseball field ten minutes away from our house. We'd toss a baseball around at each other, taking a step farther each time. After that, we'd go to the local sandwich shop and I always got a BLT with extra bacon.

I remember hearing of my Dad's passing. I was driving down the highway on my way to my job. My sister called me, her voice is a sound I never want to hear again. She was screaming.

I can't even bring myself to rethink her painful words.

I pulled over and sobbed in my car. My little sister found him. She was looking for him because he was going to take her driving.