Two is Better Than None

I remember it all too clearly. It haunts me, like a constant cloud over my head. No matter how much I try to forget, no matter how hard I try to tell myself that the police are right and that it was just the loss of a loved one that was leading me to be paranoid, I couldn't let go of it. Not until I knew for sure that no one was involved. Until I knew the truth, I would never be able to sleep peacefully; I would never rest.

Not until I knew the truth about my sister's death.

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   "Sarah!" I called from the kitchen, flipping her omelet over just the way Mom taught us. "Sarah! Breakfast is ready! I know you're probably still mad at me, but we're adults now and Mom can't ground us for bickering anymore!" I chuckled to myself, remembering the way my twin would stomp away and hide in the corner of our shared room when we were ten because I got her grounded for fighting with her...

But we were twenty-four now, and things were different.

  When she didn't answer again, I sighed to myself, switching spatulas and pushing her sausages around on the pan, adding my special spices. This reminded me when we attended morning culinary classes together. We would work like a well-oiled machine, spicing and dicing and slicing like there was no tomorrow.

But now she was mad at me.

    Sighing again, I groaned. How was she still mad at me? All I did was drunkenly dance with the guy she liked at the party. Okay, maybe I understand why she's still mad at me, but I hadn't been in control of my actions! My mind had been blurred with tequila shots. We were not in middle school! If you wanted a guy at this age, you take him! Plus, that killer hangover I had yesterday was brutal enough.

  "Sarah Elizabeta Howell! Come on, now! We're gonna be late! You know Dad is gonna kick our ass if we come late again! We have to open the restaurant today!" No answer once again. "Sarah, I know you're mad, but we've had fights before! Remember Corey Hastings, ninth grade algebra class? I thought he was, like, the best person who ever lived and you started going out with him. I was only mad at you for a while!" I chuckled. "Okay, maybe a long while."

     Wow, she was being even more persistent than usual today. Nonetheless, there is no way she can say no to my special omelet, French toast, freshly squeezed orange juice and some of my favorite leftover tiramisu.

    No matter how much she tries to tell herself not to talk to me, it can't last for long. The moment she  sees this breakfast, her brown eyes that everyone noted were just a shade lighter than mine would fill with warmth and mischief and she would let me share her tiramisu. That's how it always went. Some people talk through their complications, but we eat through them.

  We fight we break up, we eat we make up.

   I chuckled at that thought.

  I placed her gigantic breakfast on one of those portable wooden trays that Mom loved and made my way upstairs to her bedroom. For two single women fresh out of culinary school, I had to say we were doing pretty well.

   Her door was shut. That was a bit unusual. She must have been really mad at me. I supported the tray on my left knee and used my right hand to open turn the knob and turned the door open.

"Hello my loving twin-"

  I screeched at the sight in front of me and quickly dropped the tray. The glasses shattered on the ground, but I was unable to hear it break over the sound of my own screeching.

    There she was: my best friend, my twin, my other half, my everything, a rope around her neck, hanging from the coat hanger. My body felt chills, my heart stopped, and I felt my whole world shattering around me like the glass on the ground. I felt like someone had just cut off my oxygen supply and shoved a knife down my throat.

   There was a trail of blood on the floor leading to her.

    "Sarah!" I screamed, running over to her and pulling her off the coat rack. I felt like I was going to die. Was I breathing? Did someone just stab me? It felt like I was about to cough up my heart.

   It felt like my whole world was in ice as I held her in my arms and felt for a pulse. There was none. She was gone. I sat there and screeched as I held her bloody body in my arms. I felt my spirit break and the pain of losing her infiltrated the deepest, darkest, most secret part of my mind and I screamed in agony.

Fear entered my heart like cold metal and stuck inside me like a needle. Had my heart stopped beating? Would I die? Did I care?

   That's when I started to feel the real pain. It was like my body suddenly realized that she was gone, and our twin connection was breaking. It was unbelievable, mind-numbing pain that no tears could describe. Someone slowly carving a hole where my heart was would probably be an understatement for how I felt. I would beg for a slow, painful death compared to living with the death of my sister drilling holes in my mind.

    I screamed. I screamed for her. I screamed for me. I screamed so the entire world would know that my sister was gone. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks, the headaches, and, more than anything, I felt myself breaking. She was a part of me, and she was gone.

    I shook and sweat and shrieked. My head pounded painfully, and I had nothing left in my body, yet I kept screeching. There I sat, losing track of time itself, thinking about her, my memories with her. Now that was all she was: a memory.

"Sarah! Oh, God, help me please! Sarah! Sarah!"

Why did she do this to me?

Now I was no longer Amelia Howell, the second cute twin sister of Sarah Howell.

I was Amelia Howell, and I was utterly, devastatingly, horribly, painstakingly...

Alone. 

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I hope I didn't overdo this. The next chapters are more mystery and action-packed, but I just wanted to establish how hard it was for her to lose her sister. I'm sorry if it was too graphic or not graphic enough, but no one is ever perfect and I just love writing in a nonconventional, completely original way.