The archive of the forgotten

THE TWINS

TRIGGER WARNING: MAY BE DISTURBING

The rolls royce sways as it drives onto the long gravel driveway in front of the manor which you could almost compare to a castle if you'd only compare size. I hum along to the melody of you don't own me by lesley gore. I put my phone down, I have taken a week off, I like my job and I like working perpetually, it keeps my mind of things that hurt. Like the fact that my brother never got to be twenty. I sigh, I sometimes forget my past, I sometimes forget the scar on my back isn't because I fell off the balcony when I was nine. I smile and wave away the worry I have. I look at the beautiful sandstone building and remember the faint smell of roses that used to dry my tears. I take a deep breath and look a the perfect haunted house and smile as I see the old rusty fountain in the middle. I bite my lip and step out of the luxurious car when the chaffeur opens the door. I step onto the gravel and look my father in his eyes, I have not talked to him in the nine years after his death. I feel a tear in my eye but I do not wipe it away, I do not show it. Instead I straighten my black suit jacket and walk up to him.

"My sincerest condolences." I say with a heavy load on my chest. I look at him when I notice a slight smile while he has tears in his eyes. He hugs me, my body tightens in shock, I do not remember if he has ever hugged me before. I feel tears in my eyes and slowly put my arms around him. "I will miss her." He says with a broken voice, I nod. "I know you will dad.... I know you will." It is the only truthful answer I can give because I cannot say I will miss her. I know I won't, he wouldn't either. "Shall we look at her grave Gaétan?" I nod when I suddenly realise he is speaking english with me. We weren't allowed to speak english when we were only with family...... I couldn't speak english fluently till I was seven, while living in england. I think it was a way of keeping us isolated.

We walk through the gardens, the only part of this estate I can view through rose coloured glasses. I see my father staring at me while we walk through the wide gardens. I take a breath and stare at my gleaming doc martens before looking up and smiling at him. I frown when I see the pride on his face....is he proud of me. I look at his black hair and the face I have inherited, I only have my mothers killer eyes.... the greyish-green eyes. I could not look my brother in the eye without reminding ourselves of the torture that was the reality of our life, awakening the pain that was the tragedy. He smiles faintly and grabs the side of my head, I flinch but instead of the sharp pain of my fathers soul I feel a tender hand of old age on my cheek. "I like your hair..... You look like your brother but....different." I smile, he is correct. I have cut my hair to resemble my brother more closely, but I ddyed the under layer white which beautifully ties in with my black hair and makes my white skin look sickly, which I think makes me look cold and uncaring. And cold and uncaring is safe, I will be safe.

We walk up to the grey gravestone in the private graveyard near our own chapel. I look at the grave and resist the urge to spit on the grave of that vile woman. Or was I the vile child? I look at the grave my face is numb to try to mimic the face of a mourner. My eyes stray from her grave to the grave next to it with it's pristine white stone I read the name, loïc, it feels as if I just said it and I have tasted his name again. The poetry of his words and his actions that have always made more sense than my own. He reminds me everyday that we have nothing under control even when we think we have. I notice my father crying, I hesitantly put my arm around him, I am surprised by the amount of affection he has shown in the last half hour, it has been more than at any point before in my life. I hush him and tell him everything will be alright he nods "So Gaétan, how is your life.... Planning on kids?" He asks softly, I chuckle and say "I still have plenty of time dad." "Do you not want little heirs?" he asks with a smirk. I chuckle and shake my head bitterly. I look him in the eye and my smile fades "History repeats itself....." I turn back to the grave and clench my jaw while I stare at the grey grave of hatred and disdain, of anger and of pain. I wonder if I would've felt less angry had I talked to her before she died. "What do you mean? Are you inviting me to dinner father?" He chuckles and nods. "You need to eat too right?" I look at him, wondering if he is serious and his face does not have a sprinkle of uncertainty on it, he really is serious. I nod, "I will be there in a minute...." He nods and walks away