Slow Motion

"I absolutely, without a doubt, hate every single thing about you. Are you listening to me? I hate you more right now, and I mean this, than I have ever hated you before. I am never talking to you again. I mean it, Molly. Never! Well, after I get done telling you how much I hate you!"

Every word fell from my lips with heated venom. My fists clenched tightly at my sides and my cheeks were burning. So far I had not raised my voice, but I was about to. She wasn't listening to me, at all. She rummaged through the moving boxes with her back turned towards me. She was looking for something, not even acknowledging my outward rage. So I continued.

"What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you've done to our family? To me? You could have talked to me! I'm your sister, Molly."

Molly kept right on going without hesitation. She was stoic and determined as she flipped open moving boxes and dumped the contents on the floor time and time again. This is how I had found her. I was walking past what would become the guest bedroom on my way downstairs when the motion inside what should have been an empty room caught my eye. Dad was calling me from the kitchen. Instead of making my way down the hall I stopped and peered into the room to find my sister Molly frantically searching through the random boxes we had stored in there, just to get them out of the way. She wasn't supposed to be here.

"Look at me, Molly! Stop it and look at me," I shouted.

Beginning to think that maybe she didn't know I was there at all, I stopped and watched her. Maybe I could see her, but she couldn't see me. A dreadful feeling of defeat settled over me. It felt like I was losing her all over again.

Suddenly I wasn't angry anymore. I just wanted her to look at me. I wanted it more than I wanted anything; more than I wanted an explanation. I watched her plowing through box after box, her dark hair trailing down her back. Mom had insisted she wear that hideous yellow sun dress. It just didn't look right on her, not her style. She was kneeling on the ground with crumpled newspaper scattered all around. Her bare feet were turned sole up and I could see that they were dark and worn like she had been walking through inky shadows to find me.

"Found it," her raspy voice coming not from her body but from inside my own head.

She spun around. My heart felt like it was being plunged into ice water. I slammed my eyes shut and stumbled back several steps before steadying myself. Now that she was facing me I just couldn't take the sight of her. I reminded myself to breath so that I didn't pass out.

When I felt her presence just inches in front of me I forced myself to reopen my eyes and look at her.

Her sad colorless eyes stared blankly ahead. She was looking past me instead of at me. Her hand reached out, there was something dangling from between her skinny fingers. I reached out as well, trembling at the thought of touching her. She placed something in my palm. It was a necklace I had never seen before. As soon as it touched my skin, she was gone. Instinctively I reached out for her but there was nothing there for me to grab onto.

Loud footsteps bounding up the staircase kept me from completely losing it. I swallowed the cool air and put on my best "I'm in a bad mood so don't even think about making me come down for dinner," scowl and turned to meet my father's gaze at the doorway.

"Everything ok up here? I thought I heard shouting? Were you, um, looking for something sweetheart?"

"Sure was, and I found it," I said rudely as I slid past him out the door. I felt bad. He was trying so hard to get back to normal, whatever that looked like. Instead of going downstairs for dinner I retreated to my room. I needed to compose myself.

Slamming the door behind me, I shuddered deeply remembering the startling image of seeing Molly for the first time since she died. I had seen ghosts before. In fact, there were several that haunted me on a regular basis. Still, I hadn't expected to ever see Molly again. There was just no way to prepare for something like that. Besides, looking at Molly was like looking in a mirror. We weren't supposed to be identical twins yet still; we looked an awful lot alike. We both had dark brown cascading waves of hair on top of heads sporting decently pretty faces with naturally red full lips. It was the eyes that did it though. We had exactly the same eyes. They were the same shape and the same crisp blue color perfect for pulling off an icy glare at the right moments. My mother hated that frozen stare and we had used it on her often.

I held up the necklace to get a better look. It was a flimsy gold chain with a coin hanging off of it. Obscure, thanks sis. Still, it had to be important right?

I mean, she had come an awful long way to give it to me.