The Edge

Luca: Part Eight

"Why'd you stop talking to us?"

Asking the question aloud felt dangerously close to speaking to his hallucinations, but Luca couldn't help it. Sometimes voicing his thoughts aloud helped, anyway. "I thought we could share this kind of thing," he continued. "We've always been able to talk to each other, right?" And if he knew that—him, the guy who was constantly worried about being a burden—why hadn't Cassandra?

Had she been worse than I realized?

It was easy to forget that Cassandra and Helen even had problems. They were the bio kids, after all; they'd spent their entire lives in a stable environment, not in a group home or cult (slash war zone in Gideon's case) or on the streets. But mental issues didn't discriminate, and they had been through the trauma of losing their parents.

Is that all that did it, or is there something else?

It couldn't have been anything Mom and Dad did. They weren't abusive, always supported everyone equally; he didn't want to believe they were the problem. The thought actually made him feel so ill that he cast it aside immediately, mentally searching for another explanation instead. It didn't take him long to come up with an alternative.'

So, which one of you is the good twin?

The question echoed across many of his memories. None of them liked to hear it—it was reductionist and stupid—but Cassandra always hated it the most. Whenever she and Helen refused to answer, people always assumed it was her, and always for the dumbest reasons. Yes, Helen was more of a type A, the planner, the one they called "second in command" for good reason. Yes, that left Cassandra freer to be more spontaneous, more inclined to suggest less responsible plans. They were left brain/right brain, yin and yang, but they weren't good and evil.

But people assumed. They thought Cassandra was trouble, or at least it had always felt that way to Luca. Somethings he wondered if it was his anxiety talking, but if he felt bad about it, maybe she'd felt the same way.

He wished he'd spoken to her about it. In hindsight, there were a lot of things he wished he'd spoken to her about. He stood by what he'd said—she had stopped talking to people entirely—but still...

"Have I been giving her too much space?"

Luca was startled by the sound of his own voice. His sleeve had slipped, and his now bare hand was touching the crystalline floor. He could see himself on the nearest reflective surface wearing different clothes, stretched out on his bed instead of on the floor, looking at his tablet. His therapist, Dr. Thurman, was on the video call. "What makes you think you are?" she asked.

"I dunno," Mirror Luca said. "It's just hard to tell. Cassandra isn't the kind of person to talk things through, at least not with me...but this is bigger than the usual stuff. So, I don't know if she's talked to the others, or if she feels like she can't talk to any of us. Or if she needs someone to approach her first?" Mirror Luca rubbed his eyes. "I know, I'm probably overthinking this, but she is the oldest. I'm sure you've seen a lot of oldest daughter syndrome.

Dr. Thurman smiled slightly in that self-aware way that always made him feel more comfortable. She was always distant enough to make it not about her, but dropped enough relatable details to make her feel like a person. "I am the oldest sister, remember?" she said. "I can provide some unique insight. Has she been checking in a lot on how you're doing? To the point that it feels smothering?"

"No. That's more Helen and Tola."

"Is Cassandra usually the sort to take on other people's burdens?"

"Not excessively? Just in like, a regular sibling way. Usually, she waits for you to come to her."

Dr. Thurman tapped her pen against her desk thoughtfully. It was another sound that used to freak him out, but gave him comfort now. The thought that if the gears were turning like that, she must be close to a breakthrough did wonders for his nerves. "Does she usually avoid getting involved in other people's problems?"

"Not...really?" Luca had to think about it, but past him was right. Cassandra might not directly seek people out, but she'd always listen when you spoke to her, and talk when you asked her if she was okay. The only time that had changed was after Mom and Dad, which was the biggest issue they'd faced to date. He'd asked her if she was okay. She'd said she was "coping" or "handling it okay." Eventually, he'd stopped asking, figuring that she either wasn't lying or wasn't up to talking about it. The silence had started to scare him, hence the conversation with his therapist, but he'd never imagined it would lead to something like this.

Things can change so quickly, can't they?

The memory kept going, but Luca ignored it. He started moving again, as fast as he could drag himself, almost forgetting to leave marks on the crystals as he went. He had to get out of here. He had to find his sister. He had to...

What, apologize? He wasn't magical. He'd done what anyone should do. It wasn't his fault...

"You sure about that, bro?"

Oh, no.

Luca tried not to look directly at the crystals, but he could still see the reflection of his sister out of the corner of his eye, stalking after him. "I mean, you said it yourself," Cassandra said. "You thought something was wrong. Why didn't you say anything? Because that bitch told you I probably just needed space? You should know me better than that..."

"Don't talk about her like that," Luca interrupted. "She was doing her best...I was doing my best..."

"Oh, shut up!" Luca stopped and flinched. "Why do you always make excuses? Why can't you just take responsibility for your shit for once? You fucked up. Admit it. Just admit it!"

Luca covered his ears. That didn't muffle the sound at all. "Why can't any of you admit you fucked up! This is your fault! This is all your fault!"

She kept screaming it, over and over.

If Luca were more aware, he might have heard how the voice warped over time. Sounding less like his sister and more like himself.

Or rather, the voice in his head he'd been trying to combat for years.