All about Irene

Only one other person had the same mark.

A birthmark etched on the top of her back, like the map of a lost continent.

That morning, on the news, I knew everything was going to end.

Irene was ten years old when she ran away from her house.

If you ask around my neighborhood, everyone has his/her version of what happened and are quick to pass judgment.

I alone bore the pain of her disappearance. People wearied of me and stopped acknowledging me. It felt like I was a brick wall, and conversations passed right through my person. But I didn’t care. All that mattered was Irene.

I never switched on the news because it just reminded me more of her. But my paper-thin patience wore off, and that is when the stories changed. It was no longer news of her disappearance. She was wanted for murder. The warrant for her arrest was out, along with a picture of her unusual birthmark. At least, what everyone else thought was unique.

On that day, I was watching the news after a long time. The loud knocks on the door interrupted me.

What happened next was a blur. Without preamble, two policemen entered. I stood paralyzed.

I was confused at first, when they stood right in front of me, with no room to move.

In a daze, I realized what was happening when one said: “Irene Beth, you’re under arrest for first-degree murder…”

Why couldn’t my mother have given birth to fraternal twins?

I smiled as they took me away. I was happy.

Irene was safe though she had stolen my identity.