I wave my arms and motion for him to run harder, as if he weren’t already. His skinny arms are pumping, his legs scrambling. But he needs to run faster because I want everyone else to know how amazing he is.
“Calla!” Finn shrieks, and for a second, I think it’s from the excitement. “Calla!”
The tone of his voice is anxious or desperate and his hair is plastered to his forehead, and he’s not excited. He’s terrified. His eyes are wide and focused on something behind me, on the wall, on nothing.
I’m confused, but panicked, because something in me is triggered. The age-old innate instinct to protect my twin. Fight or Flight. Protect him.
I sprint to catch him, to try and shield him from the kids trying to bombard him for the scrap of material in his hand. I’m not sure what is wrong with him, but he’s no longer trying to play the game. He’s trying to escape it.
When I reach him, his eyes are sightless and he’s screaming in terror. Around me, I hear other kids snickering and see them staring and I want to punch them all, but I don’t have the chance.
Finn drops the flag and it flutters to the ground like an orange ribbon.
Before I can stop him, he shimmies up the old creaking rope, the one that goes to the ceiling. He hovers by the stained ceiling tiles, looking down at me, but not really seeing me.
“It’s here, Calla!” he screams. “It’s here. The demon. The demon. Its eyes are black.” His eyes widen, and he shrieks again, shirking away as if something unseen is chasing him. He tries to climb higher, but there’s nowhere else to go. He’s at the top, next to the ceiling and something imaginary is chasing him and I can’t breathe.
What is happening?
My heart pounds and I grab the rope, climbing it as quickly as I can to get to my brother.
One hand after the other, I push with my feet. The thick twine cuts into my hands, burning and hot, but it doesn’t matter.
Only Finn matters.
But Finn isn’t seeing me. He looks through me, and shrieks and shrieks and shrieks.
He scrambles away, and I’m terrified.
“Finn, it’s me,” I tell him softly, my voice as steady as I can make it. “It’s me.”
I have to help. I have to. What’s wrong with him?
I touch his shoe, lightly, so very lightly, so lightly that I think he won’t feel it.
But he does. His face twists and he turns because he thinks I’m a demon, and as he moves, his hands slip away from the rope.
Life is slow motion.
He falls away from the rope and he screams. He flails as he falls and the sound he makes as he hits the gym floor is startlingly soft, like a pillow. How can that be?
I’m stunned and detached as I stare down at my brother, at the blood pooling on the gym floor, at the teacher ushering the kids away from his body, at my brother, at my brother.
Finn’s light blue eyes are open and staring at me, but he’s not seeing me.
Not anymore.
Because he’s dead.
My father is an undertaker, so I know what death looks like.
I don’t remember how I get down from the rope, because my hands are numb, my heart is numb, my head is numb. I don’t remember who picks me up from school. All I remember is lying in bed and staring at the ceiling and feeling lifeless, like the whole world could fall into pieces and float away and I wouldn’t care. Because if Finn is gone, I don’t want to be here either.
The sadness presses on me like a heavy, heavy weight, and I know I can’t withstand it. It will crush me.
I close my eyes,
And it’s dark, and I dream.
I’m in a darker place, and my brother is there. His eyes are dark and murky, without whites, and I realize that he’s an embryo, and I’m an embryo and we haven’t been born yet. I reach out my webbed fingers and touch his face through the liquid, through the fluid, and he’s my brother. Although he doesn’t have hair yet, I know it. I feel him, I feel his heart.
He looks at me through the dark, and just as if he were speaking, I hear a voice. It’s him, it’s my brother, it’s Finn.
Save me and I’ll save you.
He is loud, and quiet, and everywhere, and nowhere.
Something is troubling him, and I feel it in my bones, so I nestle closer to take it, to absorb it, because I can’t let anything happen to him, not ever. I failed him once, and I’ll never fail him again.
He brings me comfort and I bring him comfort and that’s the way we’ll always be.
I feel his skin. I feel his heart beating against me.
I feel our cells splitting as we grow, as we develop, as we become beings.
Save me, and I’ll save you.
Yes, I will.
I will.
I awaken with a start, and the light is pouring into my bedroom window.
The bedding is pulled up to my chin and I untangle one hand, staring at it. My fingers are no longer webbed. My fingers are separate and long. I wiggle them in the light.
It was a dream.
It was a dream.
My thoughts are muddled though. It’s hard to focus and something moves in the corner. Something with dark eyes. It stares at me for a moment, then it’s gone, and I remember Finn’s scream.
“The demon is here, Calla!”
My heart is frozen as I sit straight up in bed and stare at the empty corner, where I could swear a black-eyed being was standing just a scant moment ago.
That’s impossible.
Impossible.
I feel so tired, so weak, so confused.
I shake my head, trying to clear it, but it refuses. The fog remains, mucking up my thought processes, interrupting everything.
From outside the door, I hear voices.
“Will she be ok?” my mother’s voice is anxious.
“Her hold on reality is tenuous.”
It’s a murmur that cuts through my panic.
I pause, halting all movement, not even breathing. The whisper comes from the other side of the door.
“No, I don’t want to do that. Not yet.” The voice is hissing and firm, and it can’t be real. There’s no way. I’m frozen as it envelopes me, as reality slithers further away.
“We have to. She wouldn’t want this.”
Confused, I stare at the wooden planes of the door, at the grain.
Is this really happening?
Or is my mind playing tricks on me?
I gulp and draw in a shaky breath.
“Anything could send her back over the edge,” the familiar voice cautions.
“That’s why we have to handle her carefully.”
Handle me?
The door opens and I look up to find three shadows looming over me.
My father.
My mother.
And someone I can’t see, a faceless, nameless figure lurking in the shadows. I peer closely, trying to see if it’s him, even while knowing in my heart that it can’t be Finn.
It’s impossible.
I scoot backward until my spine is against my brother’s bed. I’m a skittish fawn, and they’re my hunters. I’m prey because I’m in danger, and I don’t know why.
But they do.
“Calla,” my dad says, kindly and soothingly. “You’re ok. You’re ok. But I need you to trust me right now.”
His face is grave and pale. The air in this room is charged now, dangerous, and I find that I can scarcely breathe.
I brace myself.
Because deep in the pit of my stomach I feel like I can’t trust anyone.
When I open my eyes, the room is empty.
They’d given up.
Whatever they wanted to tell me, I’m safe from it now.
Because I’m alone.
With shaky steps, I climb to my feet and walk to Finn’s nightstand. I pick up his St. Michael’s medallion and fasten it around my neck. If he’d been wearing it at school, he’d be here right now. He’d be fine, he’d be safe.
Holding it in my fi
ngers, I whisper the prayer, each word quick and stiff on my lips.
St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray and do thou O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.
I say the prayer three times in a row, just to make sure.
I’m protected.
I’m protected.
I’m protected.
I’m safe now. I’m wearing Finn’s medallion. I’m safe.
I’m just drawing a shaky breath of relief when the door creaks open again and I’m faced once again with my insanity.
My startled eyes flash upward, finding the impossible.
Finn.
My dead brother.
Standing in the doorway of the bedroom.
He walks in just like normal, and there is no blood, no fear, no crazy look in his eye. His hair is brown, his eyes are blue, like always.
He sits next to my bed, his face pale as he takes my hand and his hand is real, and he’s alive, and he’s here. He’s breathing and he’s warm and he’s here.
I exhale.
“The doctor says you’re crazy, Cal,” he tells me seriously. “You have to take your medicine, and everything will be ok.”
I’m crazy, and everything will be ok.
Will it?
But I nod because Finn is here, and I’ll agree to anything because he’s not dead.
He’s here.
And I’m here.
And I don’t care if I’m crazy.
Finn squeezes my hand, and I breathe and breathe and breathe.
“Our cousin is here,” he tells me finally. “He’s going to stay for a while. He’s nice and you’ll like him.”
I nod but I don’t really care. All I care about is that Finn is here and I had a nightmare and it wasn’t real.
My mom comes in and flutters about, and my dad speaks in a quiet voice, and they make me stay in bed. Later, my step-cousin comes in.
His voice is low as he introduces himself. He’s three years older and his name is Dare.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say politely, and I’m still tired. I look up at his face and I suck in my breath.
His eyes are black.
Chapter Three
Black like the night, like the dark, like onyx. Black like obsidian, like ink. I can’t help but stare at Dare’s eyes as Finn and I walk with him along the trails a few days later.
“Why do you keep looking at me?” he asks with impatience. His hands are grubby because we’ve been outside, on the beach and on the trails.
“Because your eyes are black,” I tell him stoutly. Because honesty is the best policy.
He snorts. “They are not. They’re brown.”
With a flicker of hope, I study him again, watching the way the sunlight hits his eyes. He might be right. His eyes are very, very dark brown, like dark chocolate or the darkest of tree bark. Almost black.
But not quite.
I exhale in relief.
Finn watches me. He watches my relief, the way I can breathe now, and he sighs.
“Cal, it wasn’t real. You know it wasn’t.”
His voice is soft because I’d told him everything. They way he captured the flag, the way he’d seen demons, the way he’d died.
He’d laughed at first, until he realized I was serious. And then he made me promise not to tell the doctor, because the doctor and my parents already think I’m crazy and everyone is watching my every move. I have to rest, I have to stay in bed, I have to take my medicine. It’s been exhausting.
“There is no black-eyed demon,” Finn assures me quietly, so quiet. I stare at Dare’s eyes from across the trail as he searches for pebbles to skip on the water. I’m not sure though, and Finn knows it.
“Trust me,” he instructs firmly. “You have to.”
“It felt so real,” I tell him finally, limply. “At first it was you. You were crazy, and then you died. You died, Finn. But when I woke up, you were alive and I was crazy. I am crazy. I’m so confused, Finn. What is happening to me?”
My brother looks at me, then away, and he grabs my hand.
“I don’t know. But I’m not dead and I won’t let you be crazy, Calla. Never tell mom and dad the things you see. Only tell me, ok?”
I nod, because I can see the wisdom in that. They can never, never know.
“It’s you and me, Cal,” he says solemnly. And he’s my brother, and I know he’s right.
“You and me,” I whisper.
He smiles.
“Let’s take Dare to the beach before mom figures out that you’re gone.”
“Why do I have to stay in bed so much?” I grumble as we wind our way down the rocky trail to the sand that lies below. Finn shrugs.
“I don’t know. They want you to rest. It’ll help you get better.”
I want to get better. That is something I know for a fact.
So when my mom finds us a little while later, agitated that I’m not in my bedroom, I go with her meekly back to the house. I climb the stairs to my room, and I watch Dare and Finn from my window.
They’re building a fort out of the brush-pile, and they’re laughing and running together, already oblivious that I’m gone, their faces flushed with play-time and fresh air.
That should be me.
I can’t help but feel the resentment swell in me, from my feet to my hands to my heart. I should be running and playing. Not confined here, not in this bed. My new step-cousin shouldn’t be playing with Finn in my place.
That should be me.
“Calla, my love,” my mother murmurs as she comes back into the room, a cup of apple juice and a handful of pills in her hand. They’re colorful like jewels, but they taste like dirt. “You have to listen to me. You have to rest, you have to recover. Do you trust me?”
I nod, because she’s my mother, and of course I trust her. What an odd question. I turn to her and obediently reach my hands out for the pills.
One by one, I swallow them and they stick in my throat so I gulp at the juice. My pretty mother watches me sympathetically, stroking my red hair away from my face.
“Everything will be worth it,” she assures me. “I promise you, Calla.”
But there’s something in her voice, something something something. Like she’s trying to convince herself, not me. It’s a fragile tone, an uncertainty.
But then she turns away and leaves me alone.
I turn onto my side and pull the covers up to my chin, staring out the window. A heavy fog descends upon me because of the pills, pulling my head under a current, a murky dark current, and I can’t fight the sleepiness. It’s here, it’s heavy, it blurs my vision.
But before I stop seeing and the darkness covers everything, I see Finn and Dare on the lawns. They’re playing and laughing and abruptly, Dare stops and tilts his head up, his dark dark eyes connecting with mine.
He stares at me, into me, through me.
My breath catches, because something feels off here, something feels odd.
Dare raises his hand and waves, and he runs off with my brother into the trees.
My brother.
Mine.
Resentment fills me again, because I’m in this bed and he’s outside with my brother, playing the games I should be playing, with my brother,
Mine
Mine
Mine.
I can’t stop the darkness though, and it arrives, covering up my resentment and my desire to play. It covers up everything, dulling it, deadening it. Sleep comes and I’m lost…in dreams, in nightmares, in reality.
Who can tell the difference?
Finn is there, and Dare is there and my brother reaches out his hand. Because I belong with Finn, not Dare. I should be playing, shrieking, laughing.
We run away, away from Dare, toward the cliffs, toward the sea.
When I
look over my shoulder, Dare is watching us go,
with the saddest look on his face that I’ve ever seen.
He doesn’t move to chase us, and I know that he’s resigned.
He knows what I know.
He doesn’t belong with Finn, I do.
Finn is mine.
* * *
When I wake, I hear voices reverberating through the halls of our home. I smell the carnations and the stargazers, the flowers of funerals, of death.
I pad across my bedroom and down the stairs.
The smell of hotcakes surrounds me and I inhale the maple syrup.
“Why is today special?” I ask my mom, because we only get hotcakes on special days. She looks up at me as she bustles through to the kitchen.
“Your cousin has to go back home early. His Latin tutor arrived ahead of schedule.”
“Latin?”
My mother nods. “Your grandmother wants all of you to learn Latin. You and Finn will learn it too, probably starting next year.”
“You can start right now, if you want,” Dare interjects from the sofa. He’s reclined there, with a blanket covering his lap. He looks paler than I remember from yesterday. “Iniquum. It means unfair.”
I form the strange sound on my tongue, twisting it into submission. “Iniquum.”
My mother hands Dare a plate filled with steaming breakfast food. He starts to get up, but she motions him to stay down.
“It’s fine, sweetheart. Stay there and rest.”
Rest.
With a start, I realize that no one has chastised me for getting out of bed.
“Your father would kill me if I let you wear yourself out,” my mother adds, as if she doesn’t recall that merely yesterday Dare was chasing Finn around the lawns.
“Did you hurt yourself?” I ask him curiously. He looks at me and rolls his eyes.
“No.”
I’m confused, so so confused and I look at my brother, but Finn acts like this is normal, as though Dare is supposed to be in bed. Not me.
Not me.
“What is happening?” I whisper, so utterly lost. The room swirls and everyone moves like they’re in fast-forward and I’m the only one standing still.
My mother glances at me. “I told you, honey. Dare has to return to England. Don’t worry. We’ll be joining him shortly, like we do every summer.”