Identity [ON HIATUS]

13. The Icy Lake That Cracks

Behind my eyelids, the world was moving around me. Nothing stopped for me, nothing slowed, it continued fast and strong, like nothing I ever did, or said would make it change it's course.

When I lifted my head slowly, from the pillow propped up on the couch's arm, I felt a migraine coming on. The rustling of the trees from the open window to the left was like a cacophony of thrashes and bangs. I could have strangled the whistling bird, perched on a branch. I wasn't hung over, I hadn't drank, so what was it?

"Good morning."

A gasp caught in my throat as I nearly fell out of my make shift bed, seeing Charlie, slumped in the arm chair opposite, a glass of water with a fizzling pill inside sat on the coffee table between us. It was littered with mug rings, paper and two ashtrays. He'd tried his best to tidy, by the looks of it, but gave up when he realised that he actually did have a hangover, and gave up on the idea.

I just stared at him, unable to say (or think) of what to say. He rested his elbows on his thighs, trying to suss me out. I pulled the old blanket that I'd found in a drawer last night, off of me and swung my legs round and onto the floor, facing him properly.

The bird whistled louder.

"Did you...put me to bed last night?" I nodded. "So were you the one who...undressed me?"

I laughed a little, shaking my head. "That was all you." Charlie smiled then, looking at the floor, his dark hair flopping downwards. But when he looked back up, his eyes were sad again, like that was their natural state; their default setting.

"Who are you?" He asked quietly, tortured by the question. The energy had been beaten out of me last night, and I had no idea how. One minute, I was walking home from school, the next, I was stood in Charlie Merchant's apartment, as he called me Rose and begged me to stop haunting him, to leave him be, to let him finally get some sleep.

I hadn't thought that what I was going through, he was going through too.

"I told you last night."

"Last night isn't very clear this morning."

I cleared my throat. "I'm..." Cut. "...was...Rose's twin sister."

Charlie leaned back, and pushed his white shirt sleeves up. Underneath one of them, thick tattoos were etched from his wrists, all the way up his arm. It was unclear; blurred by the cotton of his shirt, but the shapes were bold and round, robust, curved, and covered his shoulder too. He let out a deep sigh, releasing any anticipation inside of him.

"That clears up a lot of questions."

I rolled my eyes. "You didn't actually think I was Rose, did you?"

"Well, you look like her. You're dressed like her, unless that's how you dress too, and I may not remember much from last night, but you definitely kissed me."

I stood abruptly, my eyes widened. "What?! I kissed you?" My hands covered my eyes. "Oh God, we didn't..."

"Fuck, no!" Charlie stood too, waving his arms at me. "No, course not. Sorry, I didn't mean to...Jesus." He slumped back down, and began fidgeting with his fingers, playing with some old roll up paper on the coffee table. "Rose never told me she had a twin."

I looked at him through a gap between my fingers, as if watching him in the wild. He blinked a lot; focusing on the paper in his hands, making sure each sequence in rolling a cigarette was perfect. He pulled a pack of loose tobacco from his pants pocket and began feathering pieces of it into the middle crease in the paper.

"She never told you about me?"

"She never liked to divulge much about herself...I knew she didn't like your parents...that they didn't like me." Charlie looked up at me, as if for conformation. Instead, I sat back down, and began rubbing my legs for warmth; Rose's skinny jeans did nothing but keep the warmth away.

Was I something that Rose was ashamed of?

"Yeah, well you haven't exactly got the best reputation, have you?" I slapped a hand over my mouth; I wasn't one to talk to people like that, especially people who I'd barely met, and had been arrested for assault before. 

He looked from his roll up in hands to me. He didn't look angry, or shocked at my outburst, but tired of it. I wondered how many times people told him he was a lightning bolt in a darkened meadow, or the cold ice that cracks in the center of the lake when you'd thought you'd made it. 

"You know nothing about me." Charlie spoke quietly, flicking his lighter until it sparked, and lit his D.I.Y cigarette. 

I know that you killed my sister.

I stood again, but this time, I headed for the door, not looking back. As I opened it, I heard Charlie say a half-hearted "No, come on. I don't even know your name." I sighed, looking back one more time to see him stood too, his cigarette dangling between his lips, surrounded by garbage and stale furniture.

I couldn't believe I slept on that.

"Daisy, I am Daisy."

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