Mirror Me

by Rachel Sanderson

  Andy’s pacing the length of the kitchen now and the words are spilling from him.

  ‘Well that was hardly true,’ I say quickly. ‘He was probably going to lose his medical license for supplying his patients with prohibited substances. Damien was psychotic and refusing treatment. Becky was out of control. His wife was depressed. His brother hated him because he’d inherited the family money even though he didn’t work the land.’

  ‘It should have been mine. Some part of what he had should have been mine. Or Becky should have been mine. But I ended up with nothing. Less than nothing…’ His face contorts.

  ‘What did you expect, Andy? Did you drop the news after you’d just had sex? Gee by the way, Becky, we’re biologically half-siblings?’

  ‘No. No no no I loved her. I truly loved her. I couldn’t tell her because I knew how she’d look at me and I just couldn’t bear it. It was sick, what we’d done. And when I saw you –’

  He looks up at me, his eyes streaming, his face contorted with grief.

  ‘You were my second chance, Abbie. I was going to kill myself, you know. I had it all planned out. And then you arrived and I had a reason to live. And when I saw you in that dress, in Becky’s dress, I knew you were meant to be mine…’

  ‘You should have died,’ I say. I breathe in through my nose and out and as he opens his mouth to say something more I reach back and open the door behind me.

  Zelda is a blur of grey, moving so fast. She’s a projectile shot from a gun.

  ‘Run!’ I scream at Mum and grab a bread knife from the bench to cut the ties from Tom and Stacey’s feet. Zelda is making noises I’ve never heard a living creature make before – growling, slathering, monstrous noises of anger and hatred. Andy has backed up against the bench and is swiping wildly with the knife. I’m on my knees sawing, sawing, sawing at the tape on Tom’s ankle, until finally it gives. I pull Tom up to his feet and start on Stacey. Mum has raced to the phone and is trying to call 000.

  ‘Just run –’ I yell.

  There’s a sudden yelp of pain and I see a slash of blood on Zelda’s side.

  ‘Go!’

  I haul Stacey up and push her and Tom towards the door.

  ‘Go, go, go!’

  Stacey stumbles, her hands are still bound and I reach a hand under her armpit and haul her up. We race out of the door, and I hear another yelp, and then another. I look back and I see Zelda limping. Still fighting, still fierce, but the blood is beginning to flow. And I see Andy taking another swing at her and then he looks up and meets my eyes.

  I turn and run.

  We pile into the car. Mum takes the driver’s seat. Somehow she managed to grab the keys on the way out – trust her, she’s the clearest thinking person in a crisis you’d ever meet. Her hand is shaking so much, she tries to get the keys into the ignition, then misses and tries again.

  ‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,’ she says.

  Even in my terrified and shocked state I’m capable of registering that there are a stupendously large number of swear words coming out of my mother’s mouth.

  Finally, she gets the key in and turns it and the engine starts.

  I know this bit. If this had been a movie the car wouldn’t have started. He’d have cut some wires to disable it and we’d have been stranded waiting as he came out to get us. Sometimes real life works better than the movies, I remind myself. Then Mum shifts the car into reverse and hits the accelerator and we’re pulling away even as I see Andy push open the front door of our house and look straight at us. He’s still holding the knife, which is covered with blood. I know as I see him that Zelda is gone. I gasp. The pain explodes like a bomb I have strapped to myself and detonated.

  ‘Drive!’ I scream at Mum. I hear Tom whimpering in the back. Then the car is pulling out and she’s putting her foot down and the Clio reaches speeds on the bumpy dirt road that I’d never imagined it was capable of sustaining. I’m turning in my seat, looking out the rear window and I know he’s too slow, we’re too far ahead, we’re going to make it, we’re really going to make it.

  I’m free.

  Chapter sixty-five

  It takes me a while to explain at the police station. Mostly they’re confused by the blood. They keep asking whose blood it is and I tell them that it’s mine and they ask where I’m hurt and I say I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m not hurt at all. I’ve sprained my ankle and my feet are sore but other than that I’m okay. Eventually they take me out the back and let me have a shower because I want to hug everybody and I can’t hug everybody covered in blood, it’s against regulations.

  And I keep waiting to hear the news: they’ve found him. They’ve pulled the car over. He’s been arrested. But there is no news.

  ‘Will you let Damien out now?’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ the police officer says. He’s the same one I spoke to months ago, the young, confused-looking one.

  ‘But he’s innocent.’

  ‘That doesn’t change the fact he’s been charged. There’s… you know, a bunch of paperwork. I’m sure his lawyer will be onto it in the morning.’

  They want to take me to hospital but I refuse to be separated from Mum and Stacey and Tom, who are all still giving statements to the police. The interviewing officer looks sceptical when I tell him that yes, Andy kidnapped me and held me in a bunker and yes, he also gave me lots of food and water and really if I’m dehydrated at all it’s from the trek through the forest and home and the stress of it all. Eventually someone finds a fold-out bed out back where I can rest and I lie there with Mum beside me stroking my hair.

  ‘Did you really think I’d run away?’ I say. ‘You know I’d never do that, right? I love you guys too much to ever run away.’

  She is silent for a long time.

  ‘I didn’t know what to think, sweetheart. I got a text message from you and it sounded like you. And things had been so strange. You’d been so… obsessed… And then after you and Zeke broke up, you seemed so withdrawn… I just didn’t know what to think.’

  I close my eyes tighter and blink away tears. It feels like a betrayal. And I feel so heavy and exhausted when I think of everything that’s happened. I think of Leah and Zeke and Dave and how he died and Becky and how she died. And even though I’m in a strange room that smells like artificially pine-scented air freshener and I can hear the crackle of a fluorescent light blinking on and off nearby, I start to sink into sleep.

  ‘At least she knows now,’ I hear myself say.

  ‘At least who knows now?’ Mum asks, running her fingers through my hair.

  ‘Becky,’ I say. And then, at last, I sleep. And I don’t dream.

  They find him later that night. Someone thought to send a car around to the O’Reilleys old house to check there, and there he was. I overhear details as the police discuss it in low, business-like voices.

  Young cop clears his throat and comes and sits beside me.

  ‘Andy is dead,’ he says. I stare into space for what feels like an eternity. I hear the words but I don’t seem to be able to connect them to anything. ‘You must be relieved.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I say. I feel a sudden wave of terror wash over me. What if it’s a trap? What if he has somehow managed to convince them that he’s dead but then he comes back in the final scene to exact his terrible, bloody vengeance. I’ve seen it happen like that. A plot twist is often required right at the end. But the cop just shakes his head.

  ‘We’re sure. Death certificate has been signed. Positive ID from the family. He left a letter too. It includes a confession to the murder of Dave Hill. Apparently he saw the two of you together and was scared that you would get too close.’

  I close my eyes for a second and feel his lips on mine, feel the churn of horror in my gut. He killed Dave. I knew it already but I’m glad there’s a note. I’m glad there are some answers at least. I open them again. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

  ‘We’ll be able to let you go soon,’ he sa
ys, smiling. ‘Oh, and there’s one other bit of news. The officers who went to your house found your dog.’

  ‘Zelda?’ I gasp. My eyes fill with tears.

  ‘I’m afraid she was badly injured in the attack. She’s in emergency surgery. I can’t tell you more than that.’

  For a moment I don’t understand what he’s saying to me and then the words take shape in my mind. ‘She’s alive? Zelda’s actually alive? Oh my god I thought she was dead.’

  ‘She was alive when they found her,’ the officer says, his face serious.

  ‘She saved us,’ I breathe and close my eyes. Please let her live. I’m exhausted. I have nothing left.

  The police are working their way through our house and through the bunker where I was held. Our house is going to be shut off as a crime scene for at least another day or two, so we’re back to Quiet Waters. They put us in the same room we stayed in when we first arrived. Mum tucks me up on the couch and makes me a hot chocolate and Tom puts the telly on, but nothing with any news, just Netflix and endless Star Trek re-runs. It all seems surreal. If I blink all I see is blood, all I see is the four of us dead. And I don’t know why we’re alive and Becky and her family aren’t. I don’t know how we survived.

  Leah rings and Helena rings and Zeke rings and Dad rings and I don’t speak to any of them. I can’t speak to any of them. I have wanted to so much but now I have no idea what I could possibly say. I feel like even after everything that has happened, I’m still carrying the bare concrete walls around in my head, in my heart. I’m trapped and I don’t know how to get free. Every breath I take feels tainted.

  Eventually I excuse myself and go to bed, promising Mum I’ll be okay on my own. I’m less than three metres away in a direct line from her, I can leave the light on, my phone is right next to the bed. I know that I’m safe. It’s over.

  I wake with a start, fighting with the bedcovers, gasping for breath. It takes me a few moments to remember where I am. I lift the blind a fraction and see the concrete outside glowing pink from the sunrise. Then as I roll over I see that Tom is sleeping right next to me on the floor. His bed is against the opposite wall, but he’s dragged his pillow and blanket off and set up close enough that he could touch me if he reached a hand out.

  I lie for a few minutes and watch him. He looks younger without his glasses on, peaceful and so defenceless. He’s curled around the bedclothes with one leg sticking out, which is the way he always sleeps. Tears fill my eyes. I suddenly feel so full of love, I don’t know how my mind and my body can hold it. It is more than I was made to contain, bigger and stronger than anything I ever imagined. It hurts and heals me both at the same time.

  I sit up carefully, pick up my phone and make my way quietly past Tom, then through the room where Mum and Stacey are sleeping on the fold-out lounge. The air is buzzing gently with Stacey’s snoring. I ease the front door open and step out. My phone says its 6.07am.

  I cross the courtyard and sit at the rickety picnic table with a red and white striped umbrella under a sad-looking palm tree beside a crystalline pool. I dial a number and listen to it ring.

  Zeke sounds sleepy when he answers, like I just woke him up. ‘Abbie? Oh my god, Abbie?’ He sounds like he’s going to cry.

  ‘Hi,’ I say quickly.

  ‘Abbie are you okay? How are you? Do you need anything? Oh my god I knew you hadn’t run away but when I heard the news, I couldn’t believe it…’

  ‘I love you too,’ I say.

  There’s a long silence on the phone.

  ‘Abbie?’ Zeke’s voice is tentative, like he’s not sure if he just heard me say what I said.

  ‘I love you. I didn’t know how to say it and I was scared that you didn’t mean it and I had this insane idea in my head that you weren’t there for me, you were there for Becky, but things got clearer when I was locked in a concrete bunker for a week. He promised they would and they did. I love you Ezekiel Matthews. I don’t know what’s going to happen next but, it doesn’t matter, I love you.’

  ‘Can I come and see you Abbie? Please?’

  I grin. ‘We’re staying at the motel,’ I say. ‘I’ll make you breakfast.’

  Chapter sixty-six

  I get a table up the back, beside the bookshelf. I occupy myself studying the titles while I wait. A girl brings me a slice of Devil’s chocolate cake with raspberry ice cream and I pick at it, letting the chocolate melt away on my tongue, following each taste of sweetness with the tartness of the berries. I see him step in, look around, and I know it’s him straight away by the tidal current of people turning that I sense around me. Everybody wants to see him. The lost boy come home. Damien O’Reilley.

  I stand up and wave. He catches my eye and makes his way awkwardly through the cafe. A few people say hi and he nods to them and keeps going.

  ‘Abbie?’

  I wasn’t sure if he’d recognise me. I’ve been to a proper hairdresser this time. I’ve got a pixie cut with lots of wispy bits and it’s dyed purple of all things. She did a great job and didn’t charge me a cent for it. She said she guessed I needed a change and I deserved it after everything I’d been through. People can be like that, I’ve discovered. People can be kind.

  I hope they’ll be kind to Damien too. He deserves it more than I do.

  ‘I hope this is okay,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t sure. But I thought, well there’s always cake.’

  He reaches across, and I realise that he is reaching to shake my hand. I meet the gesture awkwardly and there’s a moment where our two hands are joined and hovering then they go up down up down and he lets go.

  ‘Do you want anything?’ I say, and he shakes his head.

  We sit for a few minutes in silence. I study him, though I try not to make it too obvious. He must be tired of people staring. He’s skinny, with big grey eyes and messy brown hair. I see the resemblance to Becky, though it’s like he’s come at the family look from a different angle. And he’s restless, he drums with his fingers and shifts his legs around and can’t seem to sit still at all.

  ‘Thanks for calling,’ I say. ‘It was good to hear from you.’

  ‘I just wanted to see you. I mean if it wasn’t for you –’

  ‘He would have slipped up. I don’t know when or how but I reckon he would have slipped up. It would have come out.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  It’s not true though. He would have killed himself and then there would have been nobody and nothing to link him to the O’Reilleys’ murders. Damien would have probably been locked up for the rest of his life.

  ‘So, what are you going to do?’ I say.

  ‘Just waiting to see if things stabilise a bit at the moment. I mean, the doctors I’ve been seeing have been pretty good. They think there’s hope for me.’ There’s a bitter edge to his voice as he says it.

  ‘Do you?’ I ask.

  He looks up, eyes blank, then after a second he smiles, just the beginning of a smile.

  ‘Maybe. I’m doing a lot of drawing. The therapists reckon it’s good for me. I think I’ll just… take it day by day for a while.’

  ‘Do you miss them?’ I say without thinking, then I want to kick myself. ‘Sorry that’s such a stupid question. Of course you miss them. They’re your family.’

  ‘Sometimes I can’t even remember them,’ he says. ‘It’s all just such a haze. They reckon it’s because of the shock. Then I’ll get some random flash of Becky from years ago, when she was trying to direct me to be in some stupid play she’d written. She was always so bossy, she wanted the whole world to do what she thought it should do. And it’s so weird, it’s like time just bends back on itself and I don’t know what’s realer, now or then. That probably sounds crazy, right?’

  I shake my head. ‘I know what you mean. Are you going to stay with Duncan for long?’

  ‘He says I can stay as long as I like. And Uncle Rick has been great too. I don’t know, if I can get through to the end of this year I’ll take it from there. I think Duncan�
��s going to uni next year anyway.’

  ‘Really? Huh. Good for him.’

  ‘How about you? It must be weird still being here after everything that happened. Are you staying?’

  I turn away and sip water through a fat stripy straw. The liquid is icy. ‘I haven’t quite decided yet. Mum’s been offered another twelve months and my step-mum and my brother still love it here. But I might need a break…’

  ‘You must get sick of people looking at you. I know I do,’ he says.

  I smile. ‘Yep. That’s a club I wish I could quit.’

  ‘You can. Nobody will even see you in Sydney. You could be anybody. You could be you.’

  I nod. ‘I think about that a lot, you know. When I first came here, when I first found out about Becky, I hated it. I hated the fact that I looked like her, that when people saw me they thought of her. I felt like her ghost.’

  I see Damien flinch for a second but he watches me with careful eyes. He listens.

  ‘Now… I don’t know. I remember Duncan said to me, ages ago, that everybody just wants to forget. So, part of me is happy now that I remind them. I don’t want them to forget her. Which sounds stupid because I didn’t even know her.’

  A girl comes to the table to take my plate away but I think she’s actually just come because she wanted to get closer to us, to see us both here: the ghost of the dead girl and her now-innocent brother. She’s probably going to be posting about it on Facebook as soon as she gets back behind the counter.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say to her and give her a smile. ‘That cake is the best.’

  ‘So glad you enjoyed it,’ she grins and I feel that she means it, she really is glad.

  I walk Damien out. We don’t make plans to meet again though this is a small town, so there’s probably no avoiding it. He doesn’t say thank you and I don’t want him to. The burdens he carries are too heavy and there’s really not much I can do to help. But as I watch his slight figure scuff his way down the street in the opposite direction, I feel a lightening inside me.