Enemy Basis | COMPLETE

41| Clarice

My throat stung. My lungs were pained at the lack of oxygen. My body felt drowsy. And I had almost died. But I hadn't.

The darkness was absolute, swallowing my sight whole. It was as if my life hung by a single, fragile thread, tethering me to the fading light and I was mere moments from that vital cord being severed. But my mother, that foolish woman, couldn't even manage to cut the thread clean through.

I was still breathing and she had no clue.

"Darcy, in the beginning, I loved you. I really did," she announced into the room in a lulling tone as if this was her farewell speech to my corpse, not knowing that I could hear all of this and knowing that she wouldn't want me to.

I didn't want to listen either but I was too weak to do anything but that.

I had been so close to death and yet for some reason, like a miracle, I hadn't died. Something was on my side and it was keeping me alive. I was both grateful and exhausted. I wasn't sure how much longer I could do this.

"I loved Michael and you were my piece of him forever to hold onto but good things don't last, do they?"

She was engaged in a one-sided conversation with herself, a performance that felt both theatrical and disturbing. But at this point, I was beyond surprise. Just done with it all.

"I was always a weak girl growing up, depending on others around me all the time. Michael was my life support, my oxygen to breathe and when he left me, I was left with nothing. I felt like I was dying."

She took a deep breath as if still hadn't healed from that trauma.

"I tried to get him back but I knew he wouldn't. So... I turned to Mathew. He was someone I could rely on, someone... that looked exactly like Michael. I thought it would be enough, like having a piece of Michael with me.

But it didn't turn out how I expected. Having you was a complication. After I found out, I knew that there was no other option but to lie to Mathew and make sure he would never find out. If I kept the secret, I reasoned, everything would be alright. But at the end of the day, you were still Michael's and that was always going to be a problem.

For a while, everything was good. But then, Mathew's suspicions began to grow, fuelled by a corrosive obsession that I wanted to be Isabella, that I was never going to be happy with him, that I wanted Michael, that you weren't actually his. I realised I could never be happy with him. I yearned for Michael, for the life I'd imagined. I wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

The pressure became unbearable. News of Michael's success and happiness with Isabella and Thomas only intensified my pain. I was trapped in my own personal hell, consumed by jealousy. The doctors' reminders to take my pills became a cruel joke. What was the point? I lost all motivation.

One day, I snapped. I had been drinking alcohol but my mind felt clearer than it had ever been before. I confronted Mathew, unleashing all the bitterness and resentment I'd held inside. I confessed my hatred for Isabella, my belief that she didn't deserve her happiness, that none of them did. I wanted them to suffer as I had suffered, to experience the same pain and misery.

But I never meant for it to go so far. I should've known - Mathew was deranged, and he took my words for something they didn't mean, motivated by his hatred for his brother, unhinged by the jealousy he felt towards his twin ever since he was born.

That night, he seemed strangely calm, reassuring me that everything would be better, that he understood. I felt a fleeting sense of power, as if I'd finally gained control of my life.