Her lips were parted as if she were trying to say something, but no sound came out—not a whisper, not a weak breath. I could see her wounds, where her head had met with the shattered windshield, where a stray piece of glass had embedded itself in her shoulder. She was pale, ashen white, and her tangled hair was splayed across the steel, parts of it streaked with blood. But even like this, bruised and smeared with death, she looked exactly like me.
“I … me … we’re the same.” I choked out the words, and Alex hurried to my side. His entire frame shook next to mine as he looked down at the same dark reality. That could’ve been me. That should’ve been me.
“Of course,” Alex said. “You’re twins.”
She didn’t just look like me; I had a distinct feeling she was me. I ran my hand across the gash outlining her cheek. It cut across the bone, a jagged mark stretching to her ear. I tucked a darkened strand of hair behind her ear and bent down to kiss her cheek, to beg for forgiveness and promise that I’d keep her memory alive. That’s when I saw them … the two tiny dots marring her right ear.
Without thinking, I reached for my own ear, running my finger across the earlobe, knowing what I’d find: One hole, one minuscule depression.
“What’s wrong, Maddy?” Alex asked. When I didn’t answer, when I didn’t so much as blink, he grabbed my hand and pushed me toward the door. He could drag me out of here, he could remove me from this room, from this hospital, from this world, and it still wouldn’t stop the memories from flooding my mind.
My sister and I were thirteen and away at summer camp. It was the last year we went, the last year I remembered spending hours at night talking about anything and everything until the batteries of our flashlights died. The girl in the cabin next to ours was evil; in seventh grade she already was what Jenna would become in high school.
She’d been making fun of us for days. Apparently, one-piece bathing suits were for losers who chose to take art classes over sailing and volleyball. Didn’t bother me—the total influence that girl had on my life would last two weeks, then I’d never have to see her again. But Maddy … she was peeved and wanted to prove that she was as good as, if not better than, that girl. Somehow, Maddy decided a second piercing in each of her ears was the way to do it.
Maddy handed me a needle from the sewing kit Mom had stashed in her trunks and an ice pack she’d snagged from the nurse’s office. Everybody else in our cabin was asleep, had drifted off hours ago. We hadn’t told them about our plan. This was our secret … a secret sisters would keep.
Maddy squinted, her eyes shut so tightly that her face scrunched up, making her look painfully amusing. I told her to relax, but she didn’t. She grunted for me to get it over with, then dug her nails into the wooden frame of our bunk bed.
We were na?ve back then and assumed five minutes with an ice pack would numb her ear enough for there to be no pain. I never did get to pierce the other ear; she swore and jumped the second I jabbed the needle through her skin.
“Jesus, Ella. That hurt,” she yelled, and shoved me away.
Maddy made me swear to never tell Mom, and only wore an extra earring when we were at school. She stopped wearing the extra one altogether a few years back. The hole was nearly closed now, the pinprick-sized mark almost invisible.
I remembered her words clear as day. It was the first time she’d ever yelled at me, the first time she’d ever physically pushed me away. I also distinctly remembered her calling me Ella. Me. Ella.