Time doesn't change people, people do

I used to have a sister. She was beautiful. I remember sitting at the breakfast table eating soggy cereal, I’d look up as she walked into the room with flawless skin and tamed hair having just rolled out of bed. I remember thinking that I should have been that beautiful too. We were twins after all.

I close my eyes sinking into a long forgotten memory. It was the first day of primary school and the teacher was taking the register. Gemma and I were sitting apart. Her on the front row me on the back. To my right there was a boy, his finger digging for gold in a podgy nose. The teacher called my name and I answered with disgust as I continued to stare at the boy. He turned to look at me, his finger half-submerged in a contorted face. With narrowed eyes he withdrew the finger from his nose and wiped it on his shirt.

My face scrunched up.

“What are you looking at?” he said, leaning in towards me.

“You’re weird.” I whispered.

The boys sausage-like fingers clenched into fists.

“Yeah,” he snarled, “well so are you.”

I shrank away.

“Gemma Patterson?”

Our deathly stares were broken as I heard my sister’s name. I turned to the teacher.

“Well, look at that, Gemma and Madeline have the same last name.”

From the front of the class Gemma started to giggle. Her angelic voice pierced my ears.

“Of course we do Miss, she’s my sister!”

The teacher’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked from Gemma to me.

“No!”

Gemma laughed some more.

“Really?” she asked.

I watched over the sea of heads as Gemma’s blonde ringlets bobbed up and down. The edge of the teachers lip curled upwards.

“You’re not trying to trick me now, are you?”

Gemma managed to calm down a bit. She sat up tall and shook her head, when she stopped her ringlets fell back into place as if they’d never moved.

“No Miss, I promise you, we’re twins.”

My hands clutched at the bottom of my chair as the array of young faces turned to look at me, mystified. I heard a whisper from across the room,

“Aren’t twins supposed to look the same?”

The teacher called my name,

“Madeline?”

I looked up at her inquisitive eyes, her head cocked to one side. A small, shaky breath escaped my lips. I tightened my grip on the chair and drew it back in.

“It’s true Miss, we’re unidentical twins.”

Gemma spun round to face me.

“Non-, Maddie, it’s non-identical twins.”

“Right, yeah,” I turned back to the teacher, “We’re non-identical twins.”

The class began to mutter, thin bodies twisting at odd angles to talk to their new best friend. Gold-digger went back to his nose picking and I sat and watched, waiting for the teacher to take control again. But this time, before she did, I opened my eyes and a single tear ran down my cheek. The memory faded and I looked down just in time to see the tear splash onto the wax doll lying in my lap.

***

They say that with time everyone changes. That’s what my parents tell people.

“She’s never been quite the same,” they say as I walk from the room. “Not since her sister died.”

Last summer I met Kaira and I fell in love. My parents frowned at her gothic clothing and the tongue piercing that she loved so much. I remember us lying on my bed, my head on her chest as she played with my hair. This was our common pastime before things took a turn. My mum would come in to tell Kaira it was time to go. I’d sit up and sigh, already in the beginnings of a sulk but Kaira would roll her eyes and stick her tongue out behind my mums back. Then she would sit up too, to pull me in for one last kiss and my anger would melt away.

Time doesn’t change people, people do.

Kaira treated me how everyone else treated Gemma and for a while that was enough. But Gemma didn’t like Kaira. She came to speak to me one night; we sat crossed legged on the bed like when we were young. She told me to break it off with Kaira. That she was no good and I was going to get hurt. It was the last proper conversation we had.

I told Kaira what Gemma had said and that’s when things took a turn. We became closer, our relationship more intense. She taught me how to get what I wanted, how to make people pay. She taught me how to use black magic.

I thought Gemma had given up on me but I came home one day to a house filled with shouting. Gemma had Kaira backed into a corner; her face was streaked with tears but there was anger in her eyes.

“Stay away from my sister!” she screamed.

My bag slipped from my fingers.

“Gemma.” I muttered.

Four terrified eyes turned to look at me. Gemma stumbled forward,

“Maddie I-“

“Get away from her.”

“But – ”

“Go. Now.”

Gemma nodded and walked past me through the door. I stood frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do until Kaira came up to me. She took my hand and led me upstairs. Neither of us spoke till we were sitting on my bed.

“It’s alright Mads, she didn’t hurt me.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.” I shook my head.

“It’s not your fault. Look, I got you something.” I watched as Kaira reached into her bag.

“It’s a voodoo doll,” she whispered, showing me a perfect replica of my twin sister.

She placed the doll in my hands and sat behind me, her arms locked around my stomach. She whispered in my ear.

“Gemma doesn’t care about you, you know, if she did then why would she try to take away the one thing you love most.”

I felt her lips press against my neck then her body went rigid.

“You do love me, don’t you?”

“Of course, of course I love you.”

Kaira relaxed and the panic seeped out of me.

“Good. Here, take the pin.”

My fingers gripped the metal.

“If we let Gemma go, then she’ll get in our way. She’ll drive us apart, is that what you want?”

I shook my head.

“Can you see the cross on the doll?”

I nodded, her voice poison in my ear.

“This is really easy Mads, just stab the pin into the cross.”

My hand trembled. Sweat burned my brow.

“What will happen?” I choked.

“It’s her or me Maddie, her or me.”

I gulped as my hand rose into the air.

“Do it.” Kaira whispered.

So I did.

***

Gemma died from a freak heart attack. I broke up with Kaira at her funeral.

I removed the pin from the doll’s chest and placed it back in the drawer.

Maybe with time I’ll get over that.