I told her to pull a couple of houses down from Amber’s, and figured she’d be mad the moment I opened the passenger door. I should’ve known better. She was never mad at me. She loved me, despite my many flaws, and boy did I have many.
Her eyes were caring when she looked at me. She offered a small smile before turning the stereo up and completely lightening the mood. We loved to sing along, although neither one of us could carry a tune. Elise was my best friend even though we couldn’t have been more different. We may have looked exactly alike, but our personalities were night and day. No matter, she was still the crème filling to my Oreo, the sweetness to my roughness.
Her laughter filled the inside of the car as we pulled out onto the street.
We were rocking out to Pink and singing at the top of our lungs, when a set of headlights appeared directly in front of us. I didn’t know what was going on because it all happened so fast. I heard a scream, a screech, and a sonic boom when the collision happened.
Then I woke up.
Eighteen days, eleven hours, and twenty-seven minutes is how long I spent in the hospital after the accident. I had two surgeries on my arm, three broken ribs, and forty-eight stitches in my head, lost all the hearing in my right ear, and some of the hearing in my left, but I was alive. “By some miracle, I’d survived the accident,” was what they’d said. It wasn’t a miracle. It was a travesty. They waited until my sister was buried six feet into the ground before telling me that she didn’t make it. I missed her funeral. I missed saying goodbye one last time, and I missed watching them lower her into the ground. Why they didn’t tell me, I’ll never know. What I did know was that I felt like a shell of myself. I felt like half of my heart was taken with my sister when she left this world, and the other half that lay deep in my chest was shattered beyond repair.
Every time I looked in the mirror I saw her face. Her haunting green eyes paralyzed me. Though I knew it wasn’t her, it was still petrifying. It terrified me because I was an exact replica of her. Identical twins we were, right down to our toes. In our minds we were different, but on the outside you couldn’t tell us apart. The mirror was my worst enemy now, and I could barely face that reflection.
How could I go on living my life, when every part of my soul felt empty? It may sound crazy to you, but I should have been the one to die in that crash.
1
It had been exactly five months since my sister Elise had died. Since it happened, my parents had barely been able to stand the sight of me. I suppose I reminded them of her when they looked at me. We did share the same face after all. They weren’t mean to me, at least not with their words, but they’d never look me in the face. They were having a difficult time dealing with her loss, but they acted like they were the only ones hurting, like I hadn’t just lost my best friend and my sister. My parents failed to realize how much I was hurting too. So many nights I’d lie in bed and ask why she was the one that was taken from this earth. She was good and pure. She was innocent. Elise was smart, and kind, and all of the things that I wasn’t. She was the sweet sister, the one that everyone wanted to be around. She was smart too. She literally had it all. No one liked me, and that was the way that I liked it. I was the one that always got into trouble, and the one who defied my parents every chance I got. I’d show up to parties where I wasn’t welcome, and lie to my parent’s about it. I couldn’t tell you how many times I told them I was studying with friends, or shopping. They should’ve known I was lying. I didn’t study or shop. Elise would always try to stop me, but I never listened. I was a hellion and I liked it that way. Well, I used to.
I cuffed my hands over my ears when I heard my Mom’s voice calling me from downstairs. The hearing aids made everything twice as loud, and I couldn’t stand it. A lot of times I didn’t want to wear them for that reason, but it would make my Mom mad because I couldn’t hear her when she spoke. Like I needed more reasons to make her hate me worse.
I crawled out of the bed and made my way to the door. “Yeah,” I yelled back, cringing at the sound of my own voice.
“I’m heading out. I don’t know what time I’ll be home.” She said. Obviously she was going to bury herself under a pile of work. It was the only way she knew how to deal with the pain. Hours at the office would turn into days. She was avoiding her problems, and avoiding me.
“Okay.” I replied, and listened as the front door slammed closed. A loud jarring rang throughout the house, and I expected pictures to go tumbling to the ground and break, but it never happened. There was barely a single photograph that hung on our dingy walls anymore. Not since the accident. The last thing this family wanted was a reminder of what was lost.
I closed my bedroom door once she was gone, and blew out a pent up breath. I waited until enough time had passed and I knew she wasn’t coming back before I slid the hearing aids from my ears and laid them back on the nightstand. They were so bothersome. I’d rather not hear than wear those God-forsaken things.
Looking around my room, it seemed so bare. Before the accident, my room was filled with photos of my sister and me. There were so many memories that hung on my walls. Good memories that I used to want to cherish forever.
Not now.
Now there wasn’t a single memory of her in the entire house, except for maybe in her room. My body shivered at the thought of her bedroom. I never wanted to step foot in there again, if I could help it. Just thinking about it was like nails on a chalkboard. It made me wince.
I removed every photograph from my wall, every sentimental thing that reminded me of her. I even took down the mirrors from my room, because I didn’t want to scare myself as I walked by them. You can’t begin to imagine what it feels like to see a dead person every time you look in the mirror.
The two of us would’ve been nineteen on December 8th.
Would’ve been…
Now I’d be the only one growing older. She’d be stuck at eighteen forever.
With the 8th only three weeks away, I could feel my anxiety tripling to new heights. It would be the first birthday that I would share without her, and another damn day that I would be trapped inside my horrible thoughts wishing she were with me.
We were only two weeks from graduating high school when she died, and we were supposed to be in college now.
Together.
My eyes filled with tears at the thought. It was her dream, not mine, and she was going to miss out on it because she picked me up from a stupid fucking party.
She probably would’ve wanted me to go off to college. Hell, I know she would’ve. I could hear her voice in my head telling me, “college will be the best years of your life.”
Yeah, right! I rolled my eyes.
Instead, I was holed away inside this house, inside my room, and I never wanted to leave. A few times Mom had told me that I needed to get out of the house, but I didn’t know if it was for my sake or for hers. She gave up asking after a while, when I never agreed. What she didn’t know was that I’d been sneaking out my window almost every night. I didn’t go far. I would stand at edge of the fence that connected our property to the neighbors.
I waited until both my parents were asleep, which was usually very late, before I climbed down the trellis directly outside of my bedroom window. I’d been using it for many years, so I figured any day now that it would give way and send me tumbling to the ground. Probably wasn’t my wisest idea after all the rehab with my hand, but I didn’t care. Big deal if it injured me. A little pain never hurt anyone.
Inside a divot in the wood fence was were I stuffed my pack of cigarettes and a little orange lighter. It was the only reason that I came outside at all. I never really smoked too much. I mainly did it because it used to annoy my sister.
Our dad was a heavy smoker though. He’d never miss a stolen pack from his carton. He kept me in full supply. I didn’t know if my parents had any idea I was smoking. If they did, they never said anything. I was eighteen so technically they couldn’t. I was legally old enough t
o buy cigarettes, if I had enough gumption to go to the store. A few months ago I would have, but now...
Wasn’t going to happen…
Besides, if they knew about my smoking, they wouldn’t actually fuss or bring it up. That would require talking (a skill they no longer possessed.)
They were good parents for the most part, except now, after the accident. Now I rarely spoke to them. I’d been waiting for the day when they decided to tell me to move out, but it hadn’t come yet. Maybe they felt sorry for me.
I inhaled deeply and let my lungs fill up with smoke before exhaling softly. I loved the way it felt when I smoked now. My chest no longer burned. It was more like a euphoric feeling. Like I needed the smoke in my lungs to breathe easier. Weird I know.
I was officially addicted.
“One step closer to killing myself.” Would be what my sister would say, if she were there. But she wasn’t.
She was never going to be there again.
I sat down in the tall grass next to the fence and flipped open my phone. Just because I wasn’t an active member in society, didn’t mean that I still didn’t like to know what was going on.
I clicked on the Facebook app, and scrolled through the feed. Surprisingly, I had over three hundred friends. It was thanks to my sister, and not me. Or maybe it was because people just liked to be as nosey as I was. They were probably snooping, even though they wouldn’t find anything. I never posted. I didn’t want people to be up in my business. The fact that they posted every single stupid thing that they did in their life was on them. They were just asking to be the gossip of town.
Just like every other night, Facebook was a downer, unless you considered baby pictures and vague posting exciting. Maybe that’s your thing. It certainly wasn’t mine.
Garbage… Scroll…
Bitch… Scroll…
“What the fuck is that…” Scroll…
Yuck… Scroll…
Oh wait… “I know who she’s talking about…” Scroll…
Again, there was nothing exciting on Facebook.
It took months for people to stop posting pictures and things about my sister. I couldn’t be happier that it had dwindled down to almost non-existent. I couldn’t bear to look at them for another minute. It was bad enough that our rooms adjoined with a bathroom, that I now could barely use. I was avoiding my own face, and I sure as hell didn’t want to see hers. My parents thought it would be best to leave her room, just as it was. This coming from the parent who thought it was best to never speak or mention her name. Therapists would pay big money to spend a day in our house.
I continued to scroll down the page hoping to catch something interesting, but I wasn’t having much luck. It was the same boring things day in and day out.
My phone vibrated, causing me to jump a little, and a little red number one popped up in my messenger box. Someone was messaging me on Facebook.
I hesitated at first, before I opened it.
It was from my neighbor, Will Edmunds.
That’s the third night this week. You know smoking will kill you?
I glanced over my shoulder to see his silhouette in a window at the side of the house. Was he spying on me? And why was he even home? He left town three years ago for school or army or something. He was only around on the holidays. He shouldn’t have been home.
I stared at the screen once more. Get a life you asshole. Instead of responding, I held up two middle fingers high in the air. I wasn’t completely sure that he could see me clearly enough to know that I was flipping him off, but I was hoping.
My phone buzzed again.
Is that an invitation?
Yeah right. I thought to myself. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of a response, so hopefully he’d take the hint. I didn’t want to talk. Not to him or anyone.
I was kidding.
And I was over this. Whatever the hell “this” was.
I hid my cigarettes back in their spot, and walked back over to the trellis that I climbed down from. I didn’t look back at his house. Maybe I wanted to, but I didn’t. It only took me a second to climb back up. I probably could’ve used the front door. I mean my parents didn’t care what I did or when I did it. It was just in my nature to do something secretive. I wasn’t ready to try picking a fight with my parents, although they probably wouldn’t even notice.
Once I was safely inside, I peeked out my bedroom window and across the yard to Will’s house. The light that was once on was now off. Thank goodness. We hardly knew each other even though we’d lived next to each other for over ten years. There had never even been an instance where we had spoken. He was a few years older, and never home. Why he would want to talk to me now was unbeknownst to me.
Maybe he thought I was my sister.
I shivered.
Surely, he knew that I wasn’t.
She never spoke to him either.
I let the navy blue curtain fall back down to block the outside world once again. My room was dark except for the light coming from the small television in the corner.
I didn’t bother changing. Instead I just kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed. I’d made it through another day without her, and I’m not sure how. This one seemed like the longest one yet, but I’m sure tomorrow would feel longer.
I reached into a drawer in my nightstand and grabbed my bottle of sleeping aids that I asked my Mom to pick up from the store. They weren’t working too well, but it was my only hope for getting any sleep at all. I couldn’t believe that she even bought them for me. All I did was wrote down “something to help me sleep” on the list that hung on the fridge. A couple of days later they were in my bathroom on the counter.
My ghostly mother wouldn’t even walk into my room to give them to me. She left them on the counter. Guess I couldn’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to look at me either. I’m sure that every time she did, she wished that I were her.
I swallowed two of the pills, and pulled the blanket up tightly around my neck. All I wanted was one restful nights sleep. I wouldn’t pray for it though, because I didn’t deserve answered prayers. I was given life. I had no reason to ask for anything else.
After the ending of The Lies That Define Us I received countless emails and messages asking if I was going to give Ollie and Talia a book. With what they went through, they certainly deserved to have their story told. Their story wasn’t at all what I was expecting, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised considering the card they were dealt at the end of The Lies That Define Us. They were such fun, crazy, weird characters to write about in the Us series, but in this book you got to see more of them. Yes, they’re still silly, and fun, and weird, but they also have their serious moments and they had to deal with a really tough thing. I hope you enjoyed getting to see a peek into their lives, because I know I loved getting to know them more. And I’m sure we’ll see them again, because if everything goes as planned there will be more books in the Us Series.
Regina Bartley, if it wasn’t for you I would never finish any book. You’re always there when I need to talk something over, vent, or simply bounce ideas off of. You’re my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do without you. One of us needs to move so we can have coffee dates and talk books. M’kay?
Emily Wittig, you have no idea how much you mean to me. I don’t think either of us ever realized when you sent me that message on Goodreads way back when, what an impact it would have on both of our lives. I am so incredibly proud of you and everything you do and I’m honored to have you as not only a friend, but one of my best friends. You’re stuck with me for life. Deal with it.
Wendi aka The Swirl Queen—it’s been over a year since you saved my butt with a formatting job and now you’re never getting rid of me. Not only are you the best editor and formatter, you’re also one of my best friends and I’m so lucky to know you. Honestly, what did I do before you? I must’ve been a wreck. You keep me in line and I can’t thank you enough for that.
Jordan, yo
u might be my cousin by blood but you’re more like my little sister. Your support means the world to me and I love you so much. Thank you for writing an incredible song for Ollie and Talia. I’m so proud of you. Never give up on your dreams.
Raquel, you are so much more than just a beta reader to me. Your love and support for my books and me has meant so much. You’re an incredible person and I love you lots.
To my authors friends, Molly Lee, Lucia Franco, Anne Carol, Clara Stone, and…the list goes on and on we might not get to talk every day but I know you guys are always there for me and I hope you know I’m always here for you too. Muah!
Regina Wamba and Yuli Xenexai aka The Dream Team. You both continue to go above and beyond to bring my books to life. Your attention to detail astounds me. Thank you for being some of the best people to work with. I can’t wait to see what else we can bring to life. And Regina, you knocked this cover out of the park. I asked for the craziest thing ever and somehow you made it happen and it couldn’t be more perfect for Ollie and Talia.
To the models who portrayed Ollie and Talia—you guys are awesome, truly. Ollie and Talia are silly, fun, happy, crazy characters (*cough* Cheetos *cough*) and you completely embraced that. Thank you for everything.
To the lovely members of my Facebook group (Micalea’s Minions) I can’t thank you guys enough for your love and support. When I created my group I figured I’d be lucky to have twenty members, and to think there’s so many of you now is crazy to me. I love having a place where we can all talk and be silly and get to know one another. I’m honored to have gotten to know so many of you so well and I hope one day we can all meet up in person.
A Love Like Ours Page 20