For Me to Know.

Then again.

Two years, eight months, and eighteen days ago.

January was always my favorite month. In California, January is the month where oversized sweaters and thick leggings and baggy socks are socially acceptable.

Only a few days into the new year, and it was already going perfectly. I remember walking down the sidewalk, my Timberlands clunking against the pavement and the breeze lifting my hair away from my face. I breathed in chilly air and goosebumps would rise on my arms.

Graduation was in less than six months, then I would be on my way out. Unfortunately "out" was only two hours away from home. But I would take it.

The song I was listening to finished, and in the vacancy of no music, sirens wailed behind me. I pulled the earbuds from my ears and twisted around to see an ambulance fly past me. Ice drained through my veins.

Was today the day?

I do the math in my head. Six weeks after I turn twenty one. The sentence rings in my head like a haunting echo.

"Oh god," fumbles out of my mouth. As the ambulance reaches the cul de sac where my house sits, I squeeze my eyes and will for it to stop in front of one of our neighbor's houses.

Maybe it's just Mrs Feldman. Maybe her husband had a heart attack. Maybe one of Miss Held's kids broke their arm.

I open my eyes and a weight fills my body.

The ambulance is in front of my house.

Tears flood my eyes and I break into a sprint, easily the fastest I have and ever will have run in my life.

"Why, why, why, why, why?" I chant to myself as I run the last few blocks, each "why" getting louder and more anguished.

By the time I reach my house, a cop has shown up from the street to the left. She tries to stop me from going inside as I bound up the stairs.

"It's my house! That's my god damn sister!" I shriek with rage and push the cop away from me, but I already know it's to late. I grimace as I see the two paramedics standing by the dining table. A bald, darker man has his hands on the back of the chair where my father sits. He sees me and he frowns. The other paramedic, a short but lean women in her 30s, turns to me. I look between the two and the look at each other.

"Is she gone?" They both look at the floor. I nod and look at the floor, too. Tears fall and splash on the polished wood my mother is so proud of. I wipe my cheeks but it's no point. I can't stop the tears, just like I couldn't stop this from happening.

Present Day.

I sit up in bed, panic rising in my throat.

"What do you mean, 'it's Camille'?" He sighs.

"Ok, this is going to sound crazy..." he sighs again. "I saw her." I punch the bridge if my nose.

"Cameron that's... impossible, for one. Even if it was possible it's impossible because you're in New York right now."

"I know! It's insane! But-"

"Listen, ah... Cameron. Ok I know you miss her a lot. We all do. Sometimes..." I suppress a sigh and roll my eyes. "Grief causes us to see weird things. And do weird things. Like go to college at NYU, 3,000 miles away from home..."

"Ok I know that but get this... as soon as I saw her, she saw me and she recognized me! And then I blinked and she disappeared? What's that about!" I almost laugh.

"Well statistically speaking, there are 6 people on earth who look near exact to us. Maybe she thought you were someone else she knew. And that explains why you saw her, too." He laughs.

"No, I don't think so. Cause when she recognized me it wasn't like 'oh hey I know you,' it was more... 'oh shit, I know you...' ya know?" I force air out of my nose slowly as I stare at the ceiling.

"Listen, Cam, I gotta go to bed. I have to work tomorrow."

"No, come on Cassiel! Do not call me Cam, we're not kids anymore. Cassiel?"

"Goodnight, Cam." I hang up and turn my phone off.

Why did this happen now, of all times? If Cameron finds out what I did, what I'm doing? He could tell my family and I wouldn't have anyone left. He could ruin my life if he found out what happened. He could ruin my chances of finding a normal life he can take away everything I could ever gain in life with just a simple coincidence that sparked his curiosity.

This phone call could have just ended my life. In fact, I'm already sure it did.