Alaina Clark

Chapter 15

Author's note: The italics are a flashback 

I end up going home when Dean leaves for work. Having had eaten dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Miller, as soon as I help my mom make dinner I head upstairs to my room. Turning the lights off and opening the curtains, inviting the moonlight to join me in my misery as I plop onto my bed, not bothering to change into my pajamas. 

I don't like being alone with my thoughts, they have a detrimental nature. I could have just crashed at Dean's but I don't think my parents would be fond of me not coming home, they would be heartbroken if they found out how I absolutely despise coming home. How much I despise being a constant reminder of what they've lost, of what I've lost. 

My mother doesn't realize that I notice the way her eyes are filled with hope every time I come home before her excitement fades when she realizes that it's me and not Elizabeth. Let's face it, Liz was always the favorite and she always will be. I'm just an understudy, a poor excuse for a replacement. 

There have been times when they get a look in their eyes, a look of yearning, a look of regret. I know they wish they could go back in time and stop Elizabeth from walking out that door. 

The remorse eats away at their souls in a way you wouldn't notice it unless you paid close attention to their eyes. Someone once told me "the eyes are the windows to the soul" I called bullshit, but now I realize how true that statement is. 

I could easily give anyone a fake smile, but if it doesn't meet my eyes no one would buy it. Lucky for me, fake smiles are my specialty. Lying is my specialty. Chances are, if you're not me you'll never know what's running through my mind. You might think you know, but you never truly do and you probably never will. 

Underneath the fake smiles, the inappropriate jokes and the 'i don't give a fuck' attitude, you'll find me. Alaina Clark, the self-loathing pessimist who likes to pretend she's optimistic. Alaina Clark, the girl can't even look at herself in the mirror. When she looks into a mirror, she doesn't see herself, she sees a better version of herself, in other words, she sees Elizabeth. 

After Liz went missing, it took my parents 3 months to be able to look me in the eye without bursting out into tears. Elizabeth and I might look exactly the same on the outside, but on the inside, we could not have been more different. 

Elizabeth liked wearing bright vibrant colors, I like to wear clothes darker than my soul. (even though my mother would always make us wear matching outfits). 

Elizabeth liked to be organized, she planned everything down to the second. I like to live in the moment, spontaneity opens the door to an endless amount of possibilities. I like the idea that anything can happen, despite the fact that something bad can happen, the phony optimist in me likes to think that the good will overcome the bad. 

Elizabeth was always future oriented, drawing out her life as she could control every aspect of it. Come to think of it, she might not have a future. I heard what the cops told my parents "the first 24 hours after the disappearance of a missing person are critical to the investigation, statistically speaking the chances of finding her diminish drastically until they're virtually nonexistent". 

I know she's probably dead, but that small part of me that is unreasonably optimistic just won't quit. That sanguine just clings to the idea that Liz is just going to stroll through the front door as if nothing ever happened and explain how she just pulled off the most fucked up prank one could think of. 

As much as I want to let the despondent part of me take complete control, the optimist won't allow it, and it pains me to relive the disappointment over and over again, every fucking day. Every time I look in the mirror I am reminded that I am not her, and I will never be her. I like to remind myself of all our differences just to drill that idea into my head "I will never be as good as Elizabeth."