Identity [ON HIATUS]

11. Rose And The New Body

Leaves stuck to the soles of my shoes as I took the scenic route back home. Alone and unafraid, I walked past people of the town who'd heard of the tragic twin dying in a blaze of glory on a motorcycle. They stared; shocked at first, and then sympathetic. No one dared to talk to me, I wouldn't even let them try.

Hands in pockets, no eye contact, headphones covering my ears.

I couldn't remember picking up Rose's IPod instead of mine, but there I was, holding a dark purple one instead of a pink one with Royal Blood blaring out the little earpieces, making me almost deaf. I didn't even notice the quickening of my heartbeat as I walked down a street I'd never been down before, following a path that was unfamiliar. Every step I took, it hurt.

I didn't enjoy much anymore, and what I did enjoy was not what it was before. I didn't paint, play piano, talk to my friends properly. My music taste changed, my film taste, the types of people I gravitated towards too.

The drums grew louder, grew faster, each time I pumped my foot on to the ground until I broke into a run, charging down an empty street where houses became trees and lawns became fields. I could feel the sweat rolling down my cheek, the wetness of the air matting my hair against the lining of Rose's hood and then, I stopped.

I pulled my headphones out as I reach a corner, a sharp corner. No cars, no people, just a cold, fall mist and black markings on the concrete.

Motorcycle tyre markings.

Police tape stopped me from getting closer, but I could see it perfectly; the pattern on the tyres, stamped perfectly in a skid around the corner the end at a weirdly shaped tree. The grass has been ruined; yellow and brown from fire. And then I see it, red, faded red, scrubbed hard red, red that's not supposed to be outside of someone's body.

I felt like my tongue had been swallowed; like I was in my hall, hearing the policeman with his hat in his hands and my knees hitting the hardwood floor.

I couldn't take it. That was it; I needed to leave, to let go. I felt distant, removed, my vision blurring, but not before an image flickered right in front of me, hidden between the trees.

And in a flash, she was gone, and I was gone.

Oh crap, what did I do this time?

I'm on the floor, on my knees in the middle of east Jesus nowhere. I look up and I see fucking police tape and tyre marks. Motorcycle.

Oh shit, is Charlie OK? Did he get hurt?

I can't believe I have no idea what's happened, I'm his girlfriend for Christ sake!

I'm in my own hoodie, but wearing my sister's tacky clothes; a light pink shirt and weird light blue jeans. She's always too shiny and preppy.

I reach my house, climb the stairs and shut my bedroom door behind me. My room is still how I left it; shit everywhere, clothes thrown around, the smell of alcohol sticking to everything. Just how I like it.

I quickly grab some clothes off the ground and pull Daisy's stuff of off me. I notice my bedside table draw is open and I sigh. If Daisy's been through my shit I swear to God, she's dead. I rummage around it, and feel something; a small cardboard box with a flap. I pull it out, a full box of cigarettes.

Nice.

"Honey? Is that you?"

Mom's voice is behind my door, and as she swings it open without another knock, I swivel to face her, the cigarettes in my hand hidden behind my back. Mom looks me up and down like she's witnessing a murder, and takes one step into the room. I swear, there's no space between us anymore.

"What...are you wearing?" She asks calmly, indicating the black vest top and the leather-look pants. Can't afford actual leather pants. I can answer the only way I know how; sarcastically.

"Trashy whore is in the season, haven't you heard?" My voice sounds funny, like it's been too squeaky and flowery. Over time my voice has gotten grittier from the amount I smoke, and it's like it's reversed in time to a point before it all. My tongue actually feels smooth.

She folds her arms, either disgusted at what she sees or disappointed.

"I understand you wanting to stay close; sleeping in her room, painting your nails. But wearing her clothes? I mean, Jesus, Daisy-..."

I burst out laughing. "Wow, you don't even know which twin you're speaking to anymore. It's not like we've been identical since we started middle school, right?" I turn back to my draw, stuffing the cigarettes into a small pocket in my purple back pack, before grabbing my purse, my phone which, for some reason, I can't remember the pass word for, and a half eaten bag of chips I find on my bed.

I turn back to my mom, who hasn't said anything since I spoke. I stare a little longer, raising my eyebrow, waiting for something else that she must be dying to say. Maybe she really is surprised at herself; how could she get me mixed up with Daze?

"Well, this has been delightful, but I got places to be. So if you don't mind, mother dearest..." I stand in front of her as she unintentionally blocks the doorway.

"Are you mocking me?" She finally says, almost whispering, staring me down, ready to well up. "Do you think this is funny?"

Shit, I don't need this.

"No, I do actually have somewhere I need to be. And, you're kind of in the way." She reluctantly moves, not looking me in the eye. I don't know what her fucking problem is and in all honesty, I don't wanna know.

I've got a relationship to save. 

I'm so excited, I finally get to write in Rose's P.O.V! If anyone is confused at the point, you might want to read the tags for this story, or continue reading and you'll find out ;) Again, thank you so much for reading and please vote if you enjoyed it! <3