Me & Her

Me

The rest of the trip passes without incident.

Mum helps me pick out some pastel T-shirts and light grey jeans. After a lot of mental poking and prodding, I let my other self choose an outfit – a black bodysuit with a strange yet discernible pattern on the chest. Despite the frown Mum shoots my way, she lets me pick anything I – or we, in this case – want to wear.

"The Academy doesn't have a uniform, so make sure to pick clothes you feel comfortable in," she advises. I listen, but she has other ideas.

'I've been thinking about the name,' she begins as soon as Mum tells me we're going home.

'What name?' I'm careful to keep my face absolutely indifferent as we bustle through the plethora of crowded streets.

'Gemini. Janus. All a tad cheesy and unbelievably coincidental,' she chuckles. A large man with a briefcase bumps our shoulder, so hard we both feel it. Mum pulls me to her side, hand encircling my sleeve with an iron-grip.

I can't bare for her to let me go.

'It's like it's all made for us'. Her voice has taken on a manic edge, even though it's just like mine.

'Of course, you think this is all about you. No,' I hiss. 'There's something much bigger out there. Whatever happened to us, Mum mustn't know'.

'Or they scared her into keeping quiet. Either way, it's dodgy. I doubt the local police have any idea about this,' she puts in, quite helpfully in fact. I'd almost forgotten about the evidence she stole. We should go to the station, get Mum to drive us down.

'We can't give any evidence to the police, not yet,' she snaps, forcing a hand to my forehead. Mum, thankfully, misses the gesture. She leads us through countless families and across several brownstone streets to where she parked the car. Traffic zooms past, sending up a cloud of dust.

Coughing, I return to our very introverted conversation.

'What do you mean? The police need to know'.

'Look, bright eyes. I thought of this before, three years ago. This Foundation has money, okay. Enough to keep surveillance, to afford all those locks and to keep an eye on us. Enough to pay that dullard Dr. Light'. I frown but let her continue. I've learnt from experience that there's no point arguing.

'They could have paid the police off, okay. They could be part of the government, they could be anything. We don't know much, so we need to keep quiet,' she says.

'But...' I trail off. Against my wishes, she might be right. Why did the police never come knocking? How did they get all that funding? Did they cover up the murder of the Nurse? Did they know it was me?

Besides, as I smile at Mum, I know what they'll do. What they're willing to do. I need to keep her safe. She is our sole reason, for all of this.

Straining the smile, I open the car door, manoeuvre into the passenger seat. The dashboard is clear – even dust has averted landing on it. Mum, after placing the shopping bags onto the backseats, slides in beside me.

Outside, the sun beats down a relentless glow, while a stiff breeze struggles to move between the crowds. Neither of us say anything until she puts the car into gear.

"Sweetheart, are you sure you're up for this? You can always wait until next year. Or, I could hire a tutor for you," she offers excitedly. To make my solitary confinement marginally less solitary by the addition of a tutor. No. I lack – we lack – social skills and hiring a tutor won't help that.

'What is your fixation with going back to school?' she groans inside my head.

'I need to feel human. I need to have a break from all of this'. Before my breathing can hasten and the panic can rise, Mum nudges me back to reality.

"Well honey, what do you think?" Since when does that matter? I'm about to agree with her, to admit once again that I'm wrong, that pointless ideas won't help my condition, when she interrupts.

'Tell her what you want to do. Don't be a pushover'. I nearly cough in surprise but manage to stop myself.

'What do you mean? I thought you didn't want me to go back to school,' I point out.

'Maybe if you finally make some friends, I won't have to put up with your pointless conversation'. I face Mum, clasp in her hand in mine as briefly as I can. She gives it a squeeze.

"I need to do this. To be stronger. It'll help me, I promise. Take me out of myself for a while," I tell her. She nods, guiding the wheel around a bend.

"If you're sure. I don't want you to push yourself. Perhaps we could start with half days or you could just go to school in the morning. Your sessions with Dr. Light will have to run in the afternoon. If they clear you, which I'm sure they will. You're doing wonderfully, and I am...".

She trials off as the lights above us flare red.

"I am so proud of you honey".

I fight the blush that blooms under my skin. I'm still blushing when we reach the house. The house where, though I cannot remember, I had grown up. Grown up beneath the gossamer curtains and ornate mahogany dressers.

Mum cuts the engine with a sigh. She grins as my stomach rumbles.

"I don't know what it is about clothes shopping, but it certainly helps work up an appetite," she says.

'Can we get donuts?' the voice in my head asks.

'No.'

'Oh please'.

'What are you? A stereotype of a New York cop?'

'Maybe I am. Fine. Burgers?'

'Well, I'm going to be healthy and since I'm in control right now, I'm not going to let you stick our taste buds anywhere near a burger.' I imagine my other self sulking and part of it tickles me in some way. She's always so stubborn and yet it doesn't irritate me as much as I thought it would.

Helping Mum with the shopping bags proves to be an arduous task and we almost fall into the house in giddy exhaustion. Mum's chuckling, while I'm struggling to hold back my laughter. I don't want to jinx it by calling this the perfect day, but it is, somehow. A day where I managed to convince myself that I am normal, that I am worthy of a normal life.

'And me? What am I worthy of?' asks my other self. Bitterly. I find I am frowning.

'I don't know,' I echo. I don't know what she's worthy of, if anything at all.

Ignoring her silence, even though it stirs my veins, Mum and I make a meal of hanging my new clothes in my room.

"You're so beautiful. We should go shopping again, sometime," Mum suggests.

I beam, my cheeks flushing crimson. I've never been beautiful. Somehow, my other self was always the beautiful one. With her fiery intensity, scorching the eyes of her friends to convince them of her beauty. I am a thorn, a fallen apple from a tree. Meek prey for the predator in my own head.

Footsteps crack and Mum kisses my cheek before tumbling out of the room. He enters mere seconds later. Dr. Light. It's as if he's been running. Or catching his breath. His chest rises, his voice a clear rasp. He seems about to say something more, but his mouth hangs open. Soundless.

It's his eyes that give the game away. Burning bright, like shooting stars of emerald.

The voice in my head screeches and I realise. Dr. Light must know. He must know everything.

He knows. About us.

About me.

He leaves before I can say anything.