❝ It's hard to dream when you can't sleep and reality is a nightmare. ❞
Kaylee Thompson lost the ability to sleep the moment her twin sister died in a car crash. As their mother spirals deeper into grief and Kaylee's own grip on reality begins to sh...
Her hair was so shiny it gleamed under the dim light. Her skin too smooth. Her lips too crimson as if tinged with blood. And her eyes-empty, reflecting neither light nor emotion.
Too many times I tried to convince myself that it didn't matter, not when she was who I needed to become. But I was plunging deep, leaving behind pieces of myself that I cherished the most, and I wanted to get them back.
Look closer. Deeper. Push past the disguise, then you would see my face behind the mask.
'Save me before it's too late.'
-
I wanted to tell my mother the truth.
The opportunity was there. Like an open door with light glowing from the pathway. Blinding me, tempting me to give in to its power. For weeks I had become the perfect puppet to manipulate and it was my chance to finally be free from the strings that confined me.
I had nothing to lose, but seeing the unmistakable dread that showed on my father's face made me halt. His eyes were filled with the kind of fear that spread goosebumps across my skin, the color draining from his face.
What is so terrifying that he went through such lengths just to let my mother think I'm Kaitlyn? Will I ever know the answer to this question?
"I..." Her thin hand latched aggressively onto my arm, her sharp nails digging into my skin. There was a gnawing ache in my chest as her frantic eyes bore into mine. It was as if she turned into a different person entirely.
"Tell me," she wailed, her grip tightening.
I opened my mouth to speak and what left my lips was: "I-I'm Kaitlyn."
The next thing I knew was the back of her hand connecting with my cheek. The blow jerked my face sideways and the stinging sensation brought tears to my eyes. Black spots were swimming in my vision, my ears buzzing.
My father took a sharp breath but I forced myself to only look ahead, holding in the sob that threatened to escape my lips. The memory was playing itself over and over again in my mind, worsening the pain in my chest.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't hurt me.
The crazed look on my mother's eyes vanished, replaced with shock and guilt on what she had just done. Her face was so pale it was almost translucent, her lip quivering as she hesitantly brought a hand up.
I flinched.
Something broke in her eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I... I wasn't thinking straight. When I saw your birthmark the other day I thought-I'm so sorry." Her voice quivered.
My mouth failed me, then she was gone and what was left was her rapid footsteps and the door slamming shut from far away.
My hand subconsciously came up towards my face, my fingers grazing where I was hit. The burn subsided, and I could only stare off to where she disappeared to. Everything happened so fast I didn't know what to feel. I could only hold back my tears.
"I woke up to her in my room one morning," I said. "I didn't have makeup on."
My father's voice was quiet. "She didn't mean it. Your mother has her own way of coping, let her be."
I stood up and faced him, a tear escaping my eye. "I don't understand. Can you just give me a good reason why I need to do this? I deserve to know."
It took him a while to answer. And when he did, his voice was grim. "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to."
My nails dug into my palm at his cryptic answer, but I didn't press him. Maybe it was because I knew hearing his answer would only make me feel worse.
The disappearance of her usual composure, the undying desperation in her eyes, and the look of anguish that filled her features... My mother reminds me of myself.
All this time I didn't want to face the truth, but here it was staring at me in the face. We didn't just share the same bloodline but the scars that were too deep to be tended on our own.
'Listen to your mind, then everything will soon be clear.' This was what she meant, wasn't it?
I was trapped in my own misery to realize that I wasn't the only one captive. There was someone else. Someone I knew. Someone I loved.
Someone who was just like me.
Another tear streaked down my face as I thought back to the time when I overheard her cries in the hallway. I was certain there was something more to what it seemed, yet I let myself be blinded by my desire to be free.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I let my fingers trail along the rough edges of the counter before I turned my back on him and strode off. My heartbeat echoed loudly in my ears, begging to be heard, but I drowned them out.
Our lies would only drive our family into ruination, but I would rather pretend things were fine than admit they were crumbling in front of my eyes. I was a coward.
Like father, like daughter, as the saying went. We were fooling no one but ourselves. I should have known the roles had changed from the moment I agreed to be in his play. It wasn't me who was the victim anymore but my mother.
If Kaitlyn can see what we all have become without her, what will she say? Will she despise me for taking her place? Will she feel the same about our father? Or will she understand the risks we are taking and the reason for it?
'She won't.' A voice spoke up in the depths of my mind. 'You know it. Stop trying to convince yourself otherwise.'
I hated the fact that it was true. Because this wasn't the first time it happened. Some time ago, Kaitlyn and I switched places for a day.
* * *
We were thirteen when she suggested it.
It was a Saturday on a cold October night, and I was sleeping in bed until someone shook me awake. I could still remember how I peered back at my sister with half-lidded eyes, my lips parting to ask her what she was doing in my room in the dead of night.
The faint beam of light that streaked from the window curtains highlighted the look on Kaitlyn's face. Her eyes were wide open in excitement, her cheeks flushed pink as she whispered to me, "Kaylee, I have a plan."
We spent almost an hour talking about it, then in the morning I found myself waking up in Kaitlyn's room, and she in mine.
It's time. Her eyes seemed to say when we sat on the table for breakfast.
Looking back, I didn't know why I agreed to do it or why Kaitlyn suggested the idea in the first place. Maybe it was because I wanted to experience being her, to be loved and appreciated even for just a day. Maybe she knew it. Maybe we were tired and just wanted to be someone else for a while.
The reason didn't matter. Because we still did it, and we were responsible for what happened next.
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