It hasn't changed much, but I swear I totally forgot we were rich.
Well, they're rich.
Before they came we had nothing, but we had everything as well. Then they came along, saying they'd give us everything, but instead they took it all away. I'd rather be poor and free than rich and trapped. The house – because I can't call it a monster without feeling like Bram Stoker – is a grand, ornate structure, with a mixture of woodwork and bricks holding it in place. A ramp has been installed in the entrance, and as we're wheeled up it, I glimpse the number locks on the doors. More complex than I remember, although I can't imagine them proving much of a problem. Not for me anyway. The ME pushes me into the hallway, where the other me gasps at the chandeliers and the thriving houseplants seated by the great wide windows. The floor is a deep mahogany and is that a Ming Vase? When did that get there? Yikes, these people don't know the meaning of the word 'budget'. Or 'realistic'. Placing me in this showroom is supposed to stamp out my suspicions, not provoke them. The other me smiles with that typically naïve expression I've grown used to over the years.
"Is this place really my home? It's amazing!" She's grinning like a moron and I'm half tempted to mentally slap her in the face.
This was never our home and it never will be.
YOU ARE READING
Me & Her
Mystery / ThrillerCOMPLETE!! After three years spent in a coma, a girl awakens to a life she barely knows, a distraught Mother whom she does not remember, and a crippling fear of her secondary personality. Faced with missing memories and a psychiatrist with an agend...
