Separate But Not Equal

Chapter XXVI

I groan, lifting my body up uncomfortably, and stretching my arms.

The feeling of a warm material covering my legs makes me feel slightly less sleepy and increasingly aware of the situation.

Blinking my eyes a few times I look around at my surroundings and notice a small mirror showing my reflection, with my burrowed eyebrows and confused face.

The freckles, the dark skin, the brown lips, and the curly hair.

My eyes seem fuzzy and completely different, like a mixture of brown and black just swirling together.

Why?

I turn to the walls and the painting the colour.

Pale beige.

Wait, I'm in my bedroom.

My bedroom.

With my shelves of books and posters of rock bands.

How did I get here?

What even happened?

My dress.

The exact same dress.

Baby blue with white cuffs and a white collar.

Someone must have put me in this bed.

I don't remember how I got here myself.

I'm taken aback by the constant throbbing pain in my head.

My thoughts are quickly changed when I hear the faint sound of a door closing downstairs.

And feet.

Feet?

A person.

There's a person in the house.

Another person.

Fear and anticipation flow thickly in the whole atmosphere around me.

The realisation that I've never been this terrified and confused in my life hits quite hard.

I slide out of bed, grabbing the large, heavy lamp from my bedside table dismissing how crazy I may seem.

Papa's not supposed to be here.

But someone else is.

I make my way down the stairs edging towards the entrance as quietly as possible getting ready to grab the keys and run.

Minus the running part.

Because I can't run.

The feeling of my hands starting to shake, and the beating of my heart running through my ears doesn't help with the whole idea of staying calm.

Deep, silent breaths.

Silent, Ivory.

Luckily, the stairs didn't make any noise and all I need to do is get out of here safely.

My unstable hand edges towards the key and as I gently grab the key with my eyes squeezed close, biting my lip...

The floorboard creaks.

Loudly.

Very, very loudly.

Whoever else is in the house right now unmistakably must heard that.

In less than a second, time just slows down and I'm almost certain that I see my whole life replay before my eyes, the unsure thoughts of whether something bad will actually happen or not and the numerous possibilities of who could be in my house just get worse.