Losing a sister is a horrible tragedy, losing a twin is even worse. This is why Abby's parents make the decision to move to an all new town with all new people. Well, she doesn't have to deal with the stares anymore, the sympathetic ones. Everyone's so sorry but is her sister really gone? Or is she lingering to send Abby a message?


1. Feelings


     How can a person go on without someone they spent their formative years growing and leaning with? How can a bond so strong be broken? Why did it have to happen to her? These are the questions I’d been struggling with since I awoke in the middle of the night, a stabbing pain in the left side of my stomach. The questions I’d been contemplating since I ran through the conjoining bathroom between our rooms and into my sister’s empty bedroom. These three questions I’d been screaming in my head for a year ever since my twin sister died.


      My name being called snapped me out of those questions and I find myself in a room with a bunch of people staring back at me. I’d seen them a few times before but their names were long forgotten. Their eyes on the other hand, continued to haunt me while I was there, stuck with them for an hour and a half.

     Holding up my small, tanned hand, “I’m right here.” I said. “And it’s Abby.”

     Joe, the speaker of the group smiled at me. The gesture was tight, his heart wasn’t in his work and he was just there for a pay check. He was a tall man, you could see that even when he was sitting he towered over people. Joe’s hairline showed no mercy and the majority of his forehead was exposed.  “Is there anything you would like to talk about today?”

     I gave him a tight smile in return and raised him a shake of the head. I didn’t want to talk to these people. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. This caused me to lose the majority of my friends and a long term boyfriend, distance myself from my parents, and dread waking up every morning knowing that I had no one because I pushed them all away. All of the above being reasons why I was sent to this group counseling of loved ones to begin with.

     Clasping his hands together Joe turned to the rest of the group. “Anyone else want to share anything?”

     This is the part where I stopped listening. The first time I came to this echoing gymnasium and met these people, I listened. I wanted to connect with them. I wanted to fill this void inside of me, to feel something other than loneliness. But loneliness had become my hell and I’d been the only one to condemn myself.

     My attempt at sympathizing for these people was a failure. I’d watched each take their turn, sobbing, and getting a comforting hand on their back. I was never that comforting hand. They must have thought I was a heartless bitch but I was starting to believe the same thing. I’d heard Anne tell a story about she lost her son in a kidnapping and Keith whose best friend had drown after he’d gotten Keith to safety in the boat from which they both fell. But I didn’t even flinch at their stories, feel an ounce of empathy. All I could think about was how lucky they were. Anne had a hard loss but her son’s kidnappers and murders were found. Keith’s friend died a hero.

     Melissa’s death was never vindicated. Her murderer was still roaming the streets.

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