Jaded

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

It's like I have stepped back in time. Everything is the same, even her favorite poster hangs by a window, I remember because I helped her put it up by a window in our 15th birthday.

"Kayla!"

"What the fuck do you mean this is the guest room? It has all her stuff, exactly how it was before she died".

"I know. Mom and I did it that way, and it's not the official guest room it's just... A room".

"Just a room huh?"

I kept walking around the room "her room".

"Why? What's the purpose of this?"

"Because we felt like it! Stop acting like you care how we do things, you don't even live with us anymore".

Of course. I must have forgotten I didn't. The fact that my parents kept there dead daughter stuff and put back in order like it was in the old house, is scary.

"I just have one final question before I get the hell out of here. How did you get all this stuff?"

"What? No you got it all wrong, we never threw away her stuff. Some of her clothes and old stuff my mom took care of, but everything else we put in storage".

They're insane, I could have sworn they threw her things away.

"I thought ..."

"No, you where so busy in depression and drinking that you never truly where fully there, your body was there but your mind, who knows, like I said I wish you hadn't shut yourself out like you did".

I can hear the ticking of the clock in the wall and the voices of my family below me, I can't say anything.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't ask me what's wrong when you made a replica of my dead twin sister's room!"

"Look I know it looks weird but..."

"Kayla whatever, eh it's ok I'll just leave".

"Leave? You're half way drunk you can't drive back to your place like this".

"I've done worst and the outcome better don't worry about me".

"Like what? What have you done?"

I tense a bit.

"You know stuff, it doesn't matter please just, I'll stay just let me sit for a bit and.."

"Yea I know let you finish your drink. You use to always say that to me".

She walks away and bangs the door shut. I remember now, that dress is familiar because it belonged to Alina.

Fits her like a glove.

I know I should be sitting down because the flask is empty. I'll fall and pass out any second, but I can't help it. So much of her things are still here. I have lost track of time and something catches my attention. It looks like a scrapbook. It's silver and red. Which is horrid because Alina hated red. Using the wall for support I lay down and open it, it's all pictures of us. US. The first page is of us as newborns and then toddlers. Why would she have this? Why would she make this? Did it belong to my mother? No, she wasn't artistic enough for this. This was all Alina, multi talented and bright Alina. I get to the last page and it's us in our 16 birthday. Standing side by side , under it one of her in riding in my back, her smile huge, so vibrant I swear it's real, like I saw that smile yesterday. The very last picture is just me, raising my eyebrow and mouth full of Mac and cheese. My hair is overgrown past my eyebrows and the fork points to the camera. I had almost forgotten about that day. I close the book and there's just this one question hanging in my mind, why would she have all this pictures if Alina, didn't exactly like me.

She was bipolar, one day she would hate me and the other she would hug me without reason, it started happening when we where 10 or 11. Why would she keep all this pictures?