Don't Save My Life

Chapter 2

(I know the formatting is insane so please excuse that. Also, this is not proofread so i am aware that there are plenty of mistakes. I'll come back and fix them. )

Emmett

The boy, who stood in front of me, was no doubt, Emmet Walters. He was the same boy I’d seen in the pictures, smiling happily. The same seventeen year old heartthrob nominated for prom king before he was even old enough to go to prom. Yet, as I surveyed myself in the mirror, no matter what I’d been told, I still wasn’t sure who stared back at me.

I ran a hand through my silky jet black hair watching as the strands folded neatly back into place with the movement of my fingers. My skin was a sandy brown. My eyelids were dark and I could see that my eyes were a light brown in this brilliant bathroom lighting. Last week however, when I’d woken up from the coma, my eyes were a dark chocolaty color.

Thinking this, I pulled a small notebook out of my sweatpants pocket, using my free hand to retrieve the ink-pen from behind my ear.

3. My eye color changes; hazel to dark brown.

I read over my short list again before putting the notebook away. I turned off the bathroom light now and sauntered out into my master bedroom. I had to admit, if I were to wake up as any person in the world, I was glad it was as a part of the Walters family. They were loaded. I’m talking; golden bullets pull the trigger ad still get no jail time, loaded. From what I’d observed these last seven days, they weren’t too bad of parents either.

Mrs. Irene Walters-she insisted that I called her mom- was like any other early forties heiress. She wasn’t much of a cook, and thus far I hadn’t seen her lift anything heavier than her cell-phone. But what she lacked domestication, she made up for in simple friendliness. She wasn’t a snob, or not to me at least, and she did acknowledge me as her son. From what I’d seen, there wee no nannies on the property.

Her husband, my father, Frank Walters was a pretty decent guy too. It was a rare occasion that I saw him, even in these last hectic days, but from what I’d seen he was a very ambitious man. He always wore an expensive suit no matter what the occasion, and when he wasn’t on his phone making business deals he was somewhere either smoking a large cigar or taking a sip of red wine.

I spent a lot of time alone. Like now, no one was home with me. Irene was at Pilates, Frank closing a deal. Frank was an investor and worked to help aspiring entrepreneurs patent their ideas. Our families wealth was old money, the Walter’s had always been an affluent name in our small beach town, my mother was an heiress from Europe, she’d also come from prosperous beginnings.

From the way they lived, we lived; the first assumption would be that I was an only child. I thought the same. In fact, no one mentioned a twin brother to me that entire day we’d come home from the hospital. It wasn’t until I’d woken up later that night in search of the bathroom that I stumbled upon my twin’s bedroom. It was set up much different from my light grey bedroom. His room was a deep blue, posters of metal rock bands and nude females adorned his walls.

There was a picture of the two of us on his bedside table, the only image in his bedroom that didn’t give me the creeps. It was obvious that we were fraternal twins. In the photo, he made bunny ears behind my head, sticking his bright pink tongue out at the camera. He wore a snapback over his neatly buzzed hair and a Rolex on his left wrist. I looked like the more mature one. Of course then, I looked a little cleaner, nothing like now, with my baggy sweatpants and no shirt. I was clean shaved in the picture, my hair perfectly styled like I was a member of a boy band. I shuddered realizing that the old Emmet was some kind of pretty boy.