Chapter 3 - Monsters
The car ride was quiet. Kiara and Jake stared straight ahead as he drove on the freeway, blinking hard at the bright oncoming headlights. Nobody dared to say a word and the melodic sound of the road soon lulled me to boredom. It made me think back to a time that I had wanted to forget for so long.
It was our sixth birthday and we’d just finished opening our birthday presents. Kids from our 1st grade class were all over the house, jumping around, playing, and just being normal. I remember wondering what that word meant - normal. I couldn’t figure out if it meant average or if it was a way of saying, “not special”.
The kids were only there because they were getting free cake and ice cream, not because they were our friends. Kiara didn’t care. She was so beloved by our parents and every damn adult that I wanted to do everything I could to not be or look like her. When she was being sweet, I was sour. When she threw a fit, I’d be an angel. When she was hungry, I was full. She was a pretty princess and I fucking hated her for it.
Our parents had dressed us in matching dresses and did our hair in the same exact way. Mom even put makeup on us. Kiara laughed and said I looked like a doll. It made me so angry. I cursed at her and ran out of the room.
When our guests showed up, I heard them whisper about how adorable Kiara was. No mention of me, as usual, despite us being identical in every way. What was it about her that people loved so much?
My anger toward my sister reached its peak while we were opening our presents. We had the same amount of gifts from our parents, but some of our guests conveniently only brought a gift for her. Every time I noticed this, it took all of my will power to not stand up and start screaming.
When we were done, I ran to my mother’s bedroom and found a pair of her scissors. I started cutting my long black hair. Before I could finish, my mother opened the door, calling for me. She gasped when she saw what I had done. But I was so angry already that it no longer mattered what she said to me. I took the scissors and threw them in her direction.
She jumped out of the way and quietly asked, “Mellie, what did you do? Why have you done this to your beautiful hair?”
Six years of frustration came to the surface in one sentence, “I don’t want to be her twin anymore!”
She raised her voice, telling me how I will always have a connection with Kiara and that it was something special. When I refused to understand, she called my father into the room. He started screaming at me, both for what I said about my sister and what I did to my hair. He took his hair clippers and buzzed my hair down to only about a half-inch. “This will teach her not to cut her hair again,” he said. “She’ll miss looking like a little girl.”
A week went by without talking to any of them. My parents tried to, but Kiara held out. She wouldn’t even look at me, which hurt more than anything. I know what I said about her, but I didn’t mean it. I was just jealous, but I was six years old. I didn’t realize what that even meant. I didn’t know how to apologize to her.
After dinner, I decided that I’d finally talk to Mom and Dad. I knew what I had done was wrong and I didn’t want them to be mad at me. So, when it was bed time and we were sent to our rooms, I snuck out and into their bedroom, but they weren’t there. I walked down the stairs and into the living room where I found them tied together on the floor.
Thick rope was wrapped around their bodies and tape went around their mouths. They saw me and their eyes widened. I can see how stupid it was now, but I said, “What are you guys doing? It’s bedtime.”
Two men dressed in all black with ski masks over their faces ran into the room and grabbed me by the arm. I was too fast, though. Even at such a young age, I fell to the floor and ran back upstairs and hid under the bed. I woke up Kiara by pulling her off the bed, holding her mouth shut and tucking her away with me.
