DOE

N O T R A C E

I look at the cab driver from 3 years ago. The exact same one, who tried to molest us. My mother is staring at him. He walks towards my mother and catches her hand.

"I believe our agreement is still valid?"

"It isn't."

"You told me you would give it to me for 3 years. I've come to give it back."

"I don't want it anymore."

"Oh, but it's so precious, Helen. You shouldn't just give it to me. I could do so many things with it..."

"Why have you come back after all these years?"

"Because I want MORE."

My mother shut the door in his face. I stand outside, looking at the man. His eyes twitch, his face contorts into an expression so angry it makes me back away. I walk into the house. Did I mention that I can walk through walls? Every ghost can. When I look back out he's not there anymore. I don't know what he's trying to do. I don't know what that conversation between him and my mother was all about, even. I'm confused. When I walk into the kitchen I see you and Chance, our big brother, talking animatedly about something. You're still in your gown...which is a frickin' mess right now. The rental company's going to be pissed.

Chance puts a hand on his forehead, exasperated. He walks to his bedroom, which is on the ground floor.

I didn't hear what your conversation was about, but you look better now.  The tears and gloppy mascara has disappeared from your face, as has most of the makeup, not that it does anything to lessen your gorgeous looks. You go upstairs to our bedroom. I sit on my bed, which is still next to the window. The metal bars dig into my butt. You didn't want your parents to remove it. It was the only thing remaining in the room that suggested that anyone else ever lived here. The big M+S painted  on the wall had been painted over, replaced with a wooden letter M. The creamy, popcorn-colored walls had been repainted an icy blue. The two white chintz one-person sofas had dissappeared, and in their place was a butter-colored love seat. There was a custom dressing table shaped like a robin, and there were framed photographs of sunflowers on the walls, hung up in all the places where there used to be our old drawings, framed proudly by our parents. Your bed was covered with a duck-egg blue floral duvet. The hardwood floor had a blood-red rug on the floor instead of the white furry carpet which had once taken over nearly half the room. Everything that was a reminder to you that you once had a twin sister had been removed. The only thing which was mine was the empty bed, which didn't even have a mattress on.

Watching you switch on the flatscreen TV which was on the wall facing our beds gets a little boring. You are watching a weird programme called Rosa's Big Bites. A woman bakes as fast as she can on the screen, trying to beat a timer. You never did like baking. Your eyes are glassy. You aren't paying attention to what is on the screen. I thought you were thinking about George, but then you whisper my name. You reach underneath your bed, pulling out a blood red wicker basket. In it is a picture...of me. It was taken on Prom Night. I actually looked pretty for once, because you had given me a makeover.

For that one night, you and I actually looked the exact same.

It very well could have been the best night of my life. Jason Ackers, a boy in your Maths class, had asked me to it.

And it was.

Right up until the moment Jason called me by your name.

Okay, I know what you're thinking. I'm ugly, you're beautiful. How in the world did Jason, a jock, ever mistake me for you? The thing is, he did it over the phone.

And I was so excited, I could barely hear half of what he was talking about. I was just so excited that someone actually wanted to go to prom with me. All I heard was, 'Will you go to prom with me'? And that was it. I had squealed and said yes. So much for that, I guess.

After I died, I guess our parents wanted to cover up the empty space where I used to be, so they adopted Carter and Catrina. I wish I were still alive, because honestly, I love Carter and Catrina. I wish I could play with them, talk to them.

I walk downstairs, a little aimlessly. Finally, I curl up on the paisley teal couch. I can hear the faint strains of music wafting from Chance's bedroom. I can also hear peals of laughter in Carter and Catrina's bedroom, which is right above the living room.

I drift off, dreaming of our life before I died.