The Book of Plot Twists

Not Dead... Yet

I thought that Emmy and I would live forever. That we would always be together and that we would conquer the world. She was my partner in crime, my best friend, and my teacher. But most importantly, she was my sister and I loved her.

Everywhere Emmy went, I followed. Not just because I didn't want to be alone or because I wanted to be with her, but also because I wanted to go the places she did. We were the cliché kind of twins that were into all of the same things. The fact that she was a girl and I was a boy meant nothing to us. Or, at least, not to me.

But to others, it meant everything.

"You're scaring off girls by hanging around her so much," my friends always said.

"Aaron, don't you think that being with Emily all the time is making you a little feminine?" my mother always asked.

"It's a little weird that you're so attached to your twin sister," other adults would always comment.

It didn't matter to me. I loved her and I wanted to be just like her-in more ways than one.

When I first told her that I was confused about my gender, she accepted me. She smiled and said that she would love to do my hair and makeup. And that's what I loved about her. No matter what I did or how badly I screwed up, she never gave up on me. She never thought any less of me.

And if I would have known that that day would probably have been her last, I would have told her just how much I loved her. I would have said the things I held back.

Now, she's laying here on this bed in a coma, and I'm standing over her wishing that I had said more than "thanks." I'm wishing I had done more than just laugh. Most of all, I'm wishing for more time. The moment Emily dies will be the moment I do as well.

The worst part is that I don't even know what happened that day. One minute I'm laughing and joking with her, the next my mother is rushing in and screaming at my father to call 911. There was blood everywhere and a look of sheer terror and heartbreak was permanently stamped onto her face as she convulsed on the floor.

That's pretty much the extent of my memory.

Maybe that's the reason Mom called a psychiatrist to come and speak with me. Maybe she wants her to help me find out what happened to the life of my twin sister.

That's when Dr. Hemmings walks in and asks if I'm available right now. My parents tell her yes and, just like that, I'm taken from Emmy's hospital room to the third floor of the building.

"This is the psychiatric unit," Dr. Hemmings explains to me. "If you were suffering from an addiction, eating disorder, depression, or an attempted suicide, then this is where you would go."

I nod solemnly and step into the commons area of the floor.

"My office is down the disorder hall, but since you aren't a usual client, we'll talk in the media center. I've reserved it for the next hour."

She guides me to a library type room and orders all the occupants to go down to the cafeteria for lunch.

"I usually only counsel people of the unit, but I owed your parents a favor. Anyways, take a seat." She gestures to an ottoman that faces the television for me and pulls a chair from a nearby table for her.

"First, we are going to try some hypnosis to get you to go through what happened. Is that alright?"

I nod, knowing that I have nothing to hide and nothing else to do anyways.

She smiles and tells me to close my eyes. Then, she starts asking me questions about where I was and what I heard. Soon, I'm falling into a deep sleep and I'm back in my house on that warm Sunday evening.