It was a deceitfully bright day outside, the sun glaring against my father's shiny car, despite the chill in the air. It was a delicious feeling, really. I enjoyed the cold, while my sister, Veronica loved only the perfect warmness of a mid-spring day. "Laura!" her voice rang out, her tone verging on exasperation. Having just turned 13, Veronica started to explore the emotional roller coaster of adolescence. I, on the other hand, was still the calm and quiet sister, politely staying in my outgoing sister's shadow. "I know you want to ride in the front." I huffed, turning to face her. Being twin siblings, Veronica and I had the uncanny habit of finishing each other's sentences, and knowing what the other was feeling. People found it absolutely amazing, and we were quite the conversation piece to whichever event our parents decided to parade us around. But today, Veronica was just in an overall bad mood. She refused to talk to anyone of father's colleagues, and I had to speak for her. Nobody told me to, I just knew it was expected that I did so. "If you know, then get out of the way!" she narrowed her silvery-blue eyes at me, and I shook my head, the motion causing my dark hair to ripple, continuing to wave gently in the slight breeze. "Daddy!" she whined, and my father's only response was to pinch the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly as he got into the driver's seat. "Mom?" she looked to mother for a lifesaver, but she gave her a tired look, getting into the back seat. "Just sit in the back with me, dear." I felt any feelings of happiness at finally getting what I wanted be shot down, when Veronica gave me the coldest look she could muster, before flinging her hair over her shoulder and sitting next to mother. I sighed, and slid into the passenger seat, glancing at my obviously wary father, who was walking on eggshells, trying not to ignite an argument between my sister and I with one wrong word. He pulled the car into the street, turning on the radio before returning his attention to the steering wheel. I reached for the knob, but Veronica's voice made me pause. "Laura, don't turn on that stupid alternative stuff! Keep it on this station." I wavered, before resting my hand on the knob, turning it ever so slightly. But the music change was obvious, making Veronica raise her voice. "Hey! What did I say?!" "I'm not deaf. I'm entitled to an opinion too." "Girls…" my father warned, his voice thick with surpressed anger. Veronica crossed her arms, pouting. "I'm just saying. Nobody but her likes that music." "Seeing as you always control the radio, it's only fair Laura gets to decide." mother said, looking over at Veronica. This only made her sink into her seat, rolling her eyes. "Musically challenged freak…" she muttered, and I cringed. Father clenched his hands on the steering wheel, the pressure change making the leather crackle, and he turned around to face Veronica. "Veronica! Please, just stop it! For the sake of everyone in this car"- Of course, his words were tested, when a car veered into the other lane. My father, in his distracted state, didn't see the vehicle headed towards us. But I did. I saw the metal travelling at 60 miles an hour impacting the side door with a sickening crunch. I saw everyone adopt a stricken expression, and I saw everything turn upside down. When I opened my eyes again, I blinked to clear my blurred vision, trying to process what was happening. My mother's cries shocked me into seeing properly, and I looked into the back seat. She was trying to wake Veronica, who simply stared straight ahead, her eyes unseeing, her naturally tinted lips parted just so, allowing a trickle of blood to escape them, and her head slightly cocked to the side, like she was questioning something. She was dead. ~ I burst upright in bed, my breath quickened considerably, as if I were running a marathon. A light sheen of sweat had appeared on my face, and I pressed my head into my free hand, turning on my beside lamp with the other. I had another nightmare. Really, it was just a vivid memory from 4 years in the past, but it had nightmarish effects on me. Seeing your 13 year old twin sister die every night would throw anybody off. Running a hand over the charm bracelet I wore, I felt myself become wrapped in yet another false sense of security. It was barely anything to calm me down. But it was all I had. --------------------------------------------------- Gasp! Yes! A story about twins! And possibly the supernatural! And psychological problems!
It's okay! She's already dead Lol! Veronica will be making appearances in memories, dreams, and other things… *Dramatic music*
Releasing the tiny charm from my grip, it slid back down the bracelet, to nestle against the other silver piece. They were heart halves, given to Veronica and I on our eleventh birthdays. We never took the bracelets off since then. Well, at least I did. Sliding out of bed, I slowly trod across the room, still getting the feelings of drowsiness to subside, and walked into my bathroom. The cold tiled floor was unforgiving, and it jolted me awake. I yawned, opening up my medicine cabinent, and reaching for the bottle of Zoloft inside. Take one pill a day, the prescription read, under my name, Laura Winters. It was amusing, really. My parents both didn't believe in therapy, but after my doctor told them I had PTSD, they got me "the next best thing." Medication. Like a therapist in a capsule. I did understand why they'd not want me to get a therapist. It would somehow put them both in a bad light; having a daughter that goes to regular therapy sessions would be frowned upon in this white picket fence community. I sighed, popping the pill in my mouth, and downed it with a glass of water. Sure, the medication helped me. To an extent, at least. My nightmares were never erased from existence, like my overly-expensive doctor claimed they would. I was still jumpy. I refused to get into my father's car (or any car in general), even after it was fixed. And I never went near 82nd street again. I rested my hand on the countertop, shutting the medicine cabinet, to reveal my reflection in the mirror surface of it. My appearance hadn't changed much. I'd only gotten taller, and somehow lost weight; although I'd been eating comfort food ever since. My hair now reached the small of my back, and my eyes were still the same strange grey-blue combo that people adored. Overall, people thought I was "pretty". I had no time for their vain opinions, they always led to an awkward silence. I was used to people saying "You two are so pretty!" It was obvious people thought it, and the compliment that was only meant for me somehow forced its way out of them. After I brushed my teeth, and ran a comb through my hair, I threw on a pair of skinny jeans, Converse, and an Abercrombie T-shirt, topping it off with a track team hoodie. I picked up my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder, simultaneously grabbing a granola bar as I walked out the front door. My car stood in the driveway, begging to be driven after months of not being used. I got it right on my sixteenth birthday, the glossy interior beckoning anyone who saw it to get inside and drive away. But not me. I politely hinted that I didn't want a car for my birthday, but my parents went ahead and got me one anyways. It was what any teen dreamt of, though, right. Shaking my head, I strode past my car, and started down the sidewalk to school. I kept my earbuds in, turning up the volume to a deafening level. As if the music could distract me from life, as it was happening right in front of me. --------------------------------------------------- Vocab! Zoloft: Medicine used to treat PTSD PTSD: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Google the illness if you want I really don't want to have to explain it here