Twins

I drift through life alone, dreaming of the days before, imagining what life was like before I became a drifter. I don’t remember a family, or even a home, but I do remember being scared. I am not quite sure why. I just know that sleeping in the bed in the room, wherever that was, always caused me great terror.

I sit here among cardboard boxes in the dark alley I live in and I think of shadows that were once menacing. Here, in the darkness, I feel safe and secure. This is my haven away from the world I fear. But I don’t think this is where I always want to be. No, for sure. I want more out of life…as soon as I can figure out what life is.

The doctors I saw told me that I had some sort of memory blockage, something preventing me from moving forward in the world of modern life and success. I just laughed at them and went out into the hustle and bustle of people with normal thoughts and lives. I felt alienated but now I could care less.

Unfortunately, I don’t belong in alleys and cardboard, I belong higher somewhere. I belong in a warm bed in a dark room. Even though terror lurks in the shadows of four walls, I know that is where I belong. In a home with four walls and doors, windows and comforts. I belong out there, with all the normal people.

I shift and stand, wondering if today I will confront my past, wondering if I will be able to find my family and return to them, return to my life. I move through the crowds, noticing that no one shies away from me. I smell, I know this, but my appearance is clean. Cleaner that most homeless anyway. That is one of the reasons I believe I belong higher.

As I walk, I avoid Al’s Diner. That is where we all go, all the drifters. He gives us breaks on the prices, he gives the daring, or is it uncaring, half-finished burgers left by customers. I walk past and I don’t even look in the windows. Today I’m going to be higher.

As I pause at a crosswalk, I stare at the group across the broad street. Strangers, all of them, but one of them could be family to me. An aunt or uncle, that during passing on the street will turn and call out my name. Ivy Shine, that is my name. I haven’t forgotten my name.

Now here is where most people wonder why I am still a drifter. I know my name, after all. Surely there is something that can be done. There is. But it costs money. Lots of money, which is something I don’t possess.

I move forward with all the others as the light changes and no one calls my name. I am not disappointed. No one has ever called out my name.

My destination is the Hall of Records. I have been there many times before, searching for the Shine Family and finding nothing. There is so much to go through, so many volumes, that I refuse to give up. I stare at the large building as I near it, studying the thick brown stones that make up its façade. It is so powerful, its presence demanding respect and awe. I wonder if it was built to oppress, built to intimidate.

Something causes me to turn my head and I look at the newsstand on my left. The heading of the New York Times causes my heartbeat to quicken and my feet to cease their progress. I draw closer, unblinking, daring myself to be wrong. I’m not.

HENRY SHINE: ECCENTRIC MILLIONAIRE OR TRUE NATURALIST? I stare at the picture of a handsome older man standing before a large wildlife preserve, his face serious and stern, his hands spread to indicate submission and innocence. I see evil, pure and undiluted evil. I pull two quarters from my pocket and pay for the paper. I enter the Hall of Records, find a solitary, empty table, sit and read.

The article stated the simple facts: Henry Shine, a very wealthy man with one daughter, Liana Shine, who was 23 years old and away at college, was donating large amounts of money to the Hinderson Bird Reserve and Viewing Center. Ulterior motives were suspected but unproven. His wife, Sharlena Shine, whom he married four years ago and who the fortune belonged to, was unavailable for comment.

I tried not to get too excited. Surely, I should have heard of this Henry Shine before now. But today was the day I would find out, I had promised myself that. Surely this was some key to my blocked memories.

I folded the paper carefully and left. As I walked down the streets, I pondered the best way to approach my family. Surely, arriving unannounced and stating, “Are you missing a daughter?” would not be the greatest move. I had to do this right. But what was right? And why was Liana at college while I was here suffering?

Even as I sat in my alley and pondered these things no answers came. I couldn’t help but feel abandoned once more. Why weren’t they looking for me? Don’t I matter? But maybe they weren’t even my family. I was confused and lost…and woefully unhappy.

I decided the best thing to do was sleep on it. As I lay back upon my thin sheet on cardboard, my mind flashed and I was lost in the images.

The room stood silent and dark, small and cramped, with twin beds on opposite sides. I lay on one bed, my hands behind my head, staring at the ugly ceiling. Someone lay on the other bed and instinctively I knew her name was Liana and that she was not my friend. I sighed.

“Shut up, Ivy!” Liana whispered harshly and I wondered why I had her so angry. I shut my eyes.

Time passed slowly that night, slowly and painfully. I had a great feeling of loss. My mother was dead. I knew that now. As I lay with my eyes closed, many hours later, I heard the soft creak of the old door opening on rotting hinges.

“Liana?” Came a male whisper I knew immediately to belong to Henry Shine.

“Daddy?” Liana asked and I wanted to open my eyes but I didn’t dare.

“Is she asleep?” He asked as he came further into the room.

“Yes.” Liana said in a breathless whisper.

“We will kill her tomorrow, my love. Then I shall marry Sharlena and we will move away from this shack. We shall live happily.” Henry said as he sat on the edge of Liana’s bed.

“And I’ll go to college?” Liana asked excitedly.

“Yes.” Henry agreed.

“Sharlena always liked Ivy best.” Liana snarled. “I want to be her favorite.”

“And you will be. Ivy is going to have a deadly accident. You must mourn, darling, to make it authentic.” Henry whispered.

“Oh, I will, Daddy. I will mourn.” Liana promised.

There was silence as Henry slipped out of the room and shut the hideous door. I lay in fear, trembling but refusing to open my eyes and flee. They were going to kill me. My father and sister wanted me dead. I resisted the urge to cry.

A window opened and I heard Liana move from her bed. She rushed to the window and there was kissing sounds filling the air.

As I lay there, listening to my sister having sex with some stranger in our desolate room, I hated her. She was going to have my future, my college, and my life.

The scene changed, flashed and sparked, and I stood in Central Park, staring forlornly at my father and sister, their backs to me. They were going to kill me, I knew I had to flee. I had no choice. I backed up a step, then another. Suddenly, Liana looked over her shoulder. I drew in a deep breath. It was me. She was my twin! I closed my eyes and backed up another step.

“Where are you going, sister?” She asked coldly and I saw the man with the knife. They were going to have me killed by a mugger? I swallowed my fear and ran. I ran straight for Liana and my father. I ran past them, out of the park and down Main Street. I would go to Sharlena, she would help me. I ran too fast, I realized, as I turned the corner and ran into a broad shouldered officer. I fell to the ground. He glared at me a moment, then leaned forward and helped me up.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“I…I…I don’t know.” I said.

It was all so clear. That was how it happened. My greedy father and cruel twin sister had planned my death…and now I would plan my revenge.

TO BE CONTINUED