Lost victim

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Frankie smiles sympathetically at me as I sip my coffee. We sit in a small cafe, and I've told her how my life is being crushed.
"As your friend, Ana, I need to be honest with you. After your mother died, we understood that you were grieving. A month or two later, something switched in you. It was like you were a black hole. You didn't even want people touching you. I know that something happened to you, Ana. And I'm not asking you to spill, but I'm asking you to find peace. Stop letting your nightmares haunt you. Sweety, you deserve better than this."
I give a half hearted smile. "I'll try. I promise."
"Are you finish packing?" She asks, changing the topic. I watch her try to soothe her curly black hair, only to have it spring out again. "You're going to an orphanage, right?"
I nod. "Yup. Its more for the older kids, though, even though there are a lot of young kids. And no, I haven't finished packing. I need some more sunscreen."
"Did you research the place?" Frankie grins. "Wow. You're already turning a new leaf already."
Rolling my eyes, I stand up. "Yes, yes, mock me all you want, but you know you're going to miss me."
"I am," she pouts. "Nobody is going to take me shopping."


Frankie throws popcorn at me as I pull my suitcase off the bed. "Finish packing? Already?"
I roll my eyes. "I forgot. You're an advanced procrastinator. Of course, I've finished packing my suitcase. I leave in two days!"
The door swings open, and Isaac walks in, topless. I sigh dramatically as I watch Frankie tumble off the bed. "Sweet mama!" She whispers.
Isaac looks at me, and then at her. "Hi Frankie. What are you up to?"
Brushing herself off, she stands up and smiles. "I was, uh, checking the floor for....popcorn! Yes, inspecting the floor for popcorn."
"To eat? You do know there's lots of food downstairs, right?" He asks, and looks at me like I'm somewhat responsible for her weirdness. "Anyways, I'm missing my white and black cap. Did you see it?"
"Its in my closet," I reply, and watch him go for it.
"Are you finish packing, Isaac?" I ask, folding another T-shirt.
"Packing?" Frankie repeats, confused. "Where are you going?"
"Chicago," he grumbles.
"Chicago?" Frankie and I echo, our voices sounding like nails on a chalkboard.
"Why do you get to stay in Chicago?" I ask, trembling. "I have to go-"
Isaac turns on me, his face red. "Its not like I had a choice, Anastasia. You think I want to stay there for eight months? No. I have better things to do with my life."
"Like what?" I yell. "Have sex with random girls and get into fights?"
"Oh, like you're a saint now. Says the girl who drinks and parties all the time! And when you're not doing that you're locked up in your room doing God knows what!"
And I feel it, that sting. This is my twin brother. He's family, he's my other half. And yet still I feel like I've been slapped in the face. Tears well in my eyes, and I can feel my heart escalate. I'm burning, and its from the fire I've created, fueled by despair and self pity. "Get out."
Isaac's face softens, and he steps toward me, but I'm not having it. "GET OUT! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!"
The door shuts behind him, and I crumple to the floor, devastated. I want to overcome this, and become a survivor. I can't. I can't, because everyday I look in the mirror, all I see is a victim. And she's lost. My God, is she ever.

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