“Twin(e)ing”

Everything changed when the man killed Carli. Looking back, I can’t even remember myself before she died. All I can remember is Carli. Everyone loved her. She had been so out-going, so trusting. Too trusting. I had been no more than a shadow, peeking out from behind her when we were alone. No one had noticed me. Now, without Carli, still no one notices me. I have become invisible. Or at least I try to be.

As I sit in a corner at the party, watching my friends enjoying themselves, I imagine how Carli would have handled this situation. In my minds’ eye, I can see Carli standing in the middle of the group, talking and laughing with the other kids. At times I try so hard to act with the same confidence and “joi de vive” as Carli would have acted. It hadn’t been acting for Carli, though. I think back to Carli’s affectionate nature and winning ways. I guess that nature was the very thing that finally caused Carli’s death.

As I often do, I wish that I had been the one killed, and Carli had been the one to live. Of course, nothing about me would have caught the man’s attention. It was inevitable that Carli would be the one he chose. So I was left here alone to survive.

I’ve wondered whether I had ever actually been this withdrawn as a child, or if Carli’s death had actually pushed me toward the morose. I always had a quiet and contemplative side. A part of every person is like that. But the moroseness must have begun back in that terrible time. I shut down, and when I awoke from the nightmare, I was different. I realize that part of it, at least, is my fear that if I allowed myself to be like Carli, that something bad could happen again. That I could attract another predator. It was safer to be mouse-like.

I know my mom hates how withdrawn I have become. It reminded them both of what had happened. I’m sure that mom misses Carli as much as I do and the way she lit up a room. But there’s nothing I can do about it. It was funny how I can look so identical to her, and yet be nothing like her. I’ve noticed my mom secretively watching me at times, seeming to sadly search my face for some sign of Carli, some similarity. But Carli is gone. Nothing can bring her back.

But mom always has hope. It’s not like anyone found a body. There was no circumstantial evidence. But I know. Mom does, too, but she tries to deny it. How many years will she keep looking for her?

So I go to parties. I keep up the façade. I try to act happy, imagine what Carli would have done, what Carli would have said. If I get good enough at acting, it will almost be like Carli is back with us. I may be able to fool everyone into forgetting what happened. They’ll just see Carli again, and I’ll just be a shadow that they never really see. But I’ll know.

Everything changed when the molester killed Carli. That part of me is gone. I can never be her again.