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?


2. Leaving the Past Behind


     I examined myself in the mirror. The night had grown dark but I hadn’t bothered to put the light on to its full potential. Seeing myself in the bright light was difficult at times, sometimes it was like I was seeing a ghost. Even after dying my hair brown from its natural blonde – something Melissa and I swore we’d never do – and cutting it shoulder length when it had been close to my waist, I still had the same face as my sister.

     Turning around I almost lost my balance because of yet another unpacked box. Three weeks ago my parents and I moved and I made no effort to start my new life. In the corner, I had an entire box dedicated to things my sister left behind. I labeled to so it would be the last of the things I would find a place for. Sometimes I wish I had just let them be thrown away with the rest of her stu          ff but I couldn’t.

     Why had we moved? It was a question a lot of people asked but already knew. My family was tired of being “that family.” The family who had lost a daughter, a sister. The family that everyone had to be careful around because they didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing. Stepping over eggshells for us. It was exhausting for them and us so my father took a job in the high school that I would be finishing my senior year in Wyatt Point, a town that he just so happened to grow up in. It was only three hours away but it was far enough that no one would see us as “that family.”

     My phone rang from the other side of the room. I trudged over and lifted the small black iPhone reading the name. Walker, my ex-boyfriend, was calling me at three in the morning and that only meant one thing. He was wasted.

     “Hello,” I answered.

     “ABBY,” boomed his voice from the other line. “I miss you!”

     “Where are you?” I don’t know why I was asking. I didn’t care where he was or who he was with. It just felt like the right thing to ask.

     “I’m over Steve’s house,” Walker answered. His words sort of crashed into each other in a slur. Listening to him was just irritating.

     “That’s great,” I said. “What do you want?”

     He grew quiet and when he spoke again, he sounded less drunk. Kind of. “I miss you Abby. We were down at the beach today and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I started thinking about us and Melissa and Steve.”

     My heart caught in my throat. Hardly anyone said her name aloud to me and even if they had, I don’t think I’d ever be used to her being spoken about in the past tense. “I have to go.”

     I put my phone on silent and before collapsing onto my bed, I took a drink of water to wash down the tiny pill that helped me sleep through the night. I thought about calling my ex back but decided against it. It was better if neither one of us talked to each other. I missed Walker too no matter how much I wanted to say otherwise. He was a piece of me I thought I’d never lose but he was in the past and my future was in Wyatt Point.

     I didn’t know how much time had passed but the meds were kicking in and I was about to fall asleep until a knock on the door kept me from my slumber. “Come in,” I said in a froggy voice and turned on my side.

     My father walked in, sat on my computer chair, and said nothing. He was only thirty-six but the past year had worn him into seeming much older. Melissa and I had gotten our blonde hair from him – although I had recently become a member of the brunette club days before we moved. The only difference between Melissa and I in relation to our dad was that I had his eyes, the same slate blue. Melissa on the other hand had almost a silver color that everyone “oohed” and “ahhed” about.

     “How did everything go today at the meeting?”

     “Dad…” I groaned. “We discussed this. I said that I would continue going if you and mom didn’t bug me about ‘how it was.’”

     “I know.” He scratched the back of his head. Something he only did when he didn’t get the answers he wanted. I swore he’d have a bald spot there one day. “Abigail, listen. I know it’s tough and it’s going to take time to heal. Trust me. I know. But I’m worried about you.”

     I felt pity for my father (and that pity had no mercy on the annoyed part of me for him calling me by my full name). Pity because I was treating him like I was treating everyone else. My dad and I were always so close and pushing him away like this when he already lost one daughter had to be hurting him.

     “I know dad but there’s nothing to worry about. The meetings are just about a bunch of people dying, followed by a bunch of people crying, and then I’m just sitting there like ‘oh.’ There’s nothing interesting and no one gets me.”

     “You know no one gets you because you don’t talk to them right?”

     I sucked in my bottom lip and bit it. Why was he always right? “When I’m ready to talk to someone I will. I just don’t know when that is.”

     He stood up and walked to my door. “Just don’t wait too long.”

     I nodded me head and positioned my body to face the wall again.

     “And Abby?”

     “Yeah?” I was listening but didn’t move.

     “There’s this community service thing I want you to do. A bunch of people from Wyatt High are going to be there and I think it’ll be a good way to meet some new friends.”

     Not going to happen. “Okay dad. We’ll talk about it.”

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