Drown

Twin

As we gathered our things to get ready for the trip, I could hear my mother's voice ringing in my ears, repeating the familiar phrase, "Get ready, get ready." Her words were clear and distinct, even from outside the car where I stood. Meanwhile, my father started the car, allowing its cold engine to warm up before our long drive. It was a routine we had become accustomed to, as I often helped with the regular check-ups on the car, ensuring its smooth operation.

What struck me as interesting, despite being the youngest twin, was that I felt a stronger connection to my father than my mother. It was a peculiar dynamic within our family, where expressions of love were displayed in different ways. While I knew my mother loved me, her way of showing it was often unconventional and hard to interpret.

In the midst of the car preparations, my father posed a question to me as he checked the oil levels. "You haven't told your mother about what you saw me doing that weekend she was away, have you?" he asked, a hint of worry betraying his calm demeanour. I shook my head in response, assuring him that it was our little secret, just as he had instructed.

"Good boy," he praised, emphasizing the importance of keeping our secret from my twin brother as well. It seemed that this secret was not to be shared with anyone, adding an air of secrecy to our already complex familial relationships.

Once the car check-ups were complete, my brother sprinted towards the car, shrieking, "SHOTGUN, SHOTGUN!" He quickly claimed the front seat while I took my designated place in the back, alongside my mother. As my father started the engine and drove us away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension and boredom settling in. The entire trip ahead seemed uninteresting and tiresome, leaving me with little enthusiasm.

Somewhere along the journey, my mother began speaking to me in a strange and unfamiliar manner, expressing sentiments she had never uttered before. "I love you so much, sweetie," she conveyed, her tone laden with a sense of urgency. "I want you to know that you can always tell me anything, even if it's a secret. We can keep it between ourselves." The unexpected conversation caught me off guard, and though I smiled in response, I quietly pushed the discussion aside, unable to fully grasp its implications.

Eventually, we found ourselves in need of a restroom break and stopped at a convenient store. My brother eagerly held my mother's hand as they walked away, leaving me alone, feeling like a mere shadow within our family unit. With a sense of detachment, I followed behind them as we entered the store.

Amidst the commotion of our pit stop, my father's phone began to ring, prompting him to step aside and take the call. As my mother's face contorted with discomfort, she knelt down to address us. "Let's make this quick," she urged, her voice strained. "Your father is always conscious of time." Her words struck a nerve, hinting at a deeper tension between my parents that I had yet to fully understand.

Hastening our pace, my brother and I made our way towards the restroom, only to encounter a stranger who offered an unwelcome comment. "Oh, such a striking resemblance between the two of you," he remarked, his tone dripping with condescension. I despised such comparisons, as they often emphasized the fact that I was the youngest twin, perpetually overshadowed by my brother.

Returning to the car, we resumed our monotonous journey once again. Finally, we arrived at our destination – the tranquil lake. Mother immediately put us to work, instructing us to unpack the belongings from the car. While my brother exuded excitement and anticipation, I struggled to muster any enthusiasm for this supposed adventure.

As my father set up the grill to cook the meat and my mother arranged the table, my brother and I settled by the lakeside deck, our feet dangling playfully above the water. Seizing a moment of vulnerability, I turned to my twin and voiced a question that had been haunting me. "Do you ever feel like you've witnessed something you shouldn't have? Something that has caused resentment from both sides?" His face wrinkled with confusion, unsure of how to respond. Before he could gather his thoughts, the call for lunch echoed through the air, redirecting our attention.

Taking our first steps towards the beckoning call, my heart froze as a loud crack resonated in the air. Suddenly, we found ourselves submerged in the chilling embrace of the water. Panic washed over me as I realized I couldn't swim, not even a little. Desperately clutching onto my brother's leg, I fought against the forces dragging me down into the depths. With each frantic kick, my brother inadvertently pushed me further underwater, his terror rendering him oblivious to my plea for help. Gasping for air, I felt my grip weaken until I could no longer hold on. Slowly, I sank deeper into the water, my brother's desperate struggle for survival a tragic scene unfolding before my eyes.

In the depths of my despair, I silently whispered, "Don't forget about me." Closing my eyes, I succumbed to the darkness that enveloped me, taking one final gulp of life before all faded to black. In my last moments, I caught a glimpse of my father rushing into the water, his belated attempt at rescue confirming the inevitable truth – his efforts were too little, too late.