Sweat encompasses me as I jerk abruptly out of bed. Wiping my forehead furiously, I get up and make the usual stumble to the kitchen. I walk down those long hallways slowly. Trying to absorb all the family pictures on the walls as I pass, memories everlasting. Even if never again. As I near the end of the dismally narrow lengthway, something catches my eye. I had been on autopilot but…these were not pictures of my family. I didn’t recognize anyone in that last frame! I grab it off the wall and press it close to my face. Nope. These are not my people. I’ve never even met them! Swiftly, I run down to check all the other ones. None of them are right.
Who are these fucking people!?!
Easy explanation though right? someone pranked you? Just playing a goof on you.
But.
I live alone.
I look at each frame, over and over, desperately trying to find something underneath. Maybe my pictures have just been covered. But by who!
Panic starts to set in, thick at my core. Is someone in the house?? Timidly, I grab the solid steel cutlass my grandfather left me. He was the most amazing man in my life. I had no father figure. He was dead now, but forever alive in me. I’ll always be his little pirate. Even if I don’t know much about how his lifestyle really was.
I glide through my abode, carefully nosing into each room. It’s not very big and I quickly clear the entire place. Nothing. I lowered my sword. A familiar high pitched chime started to sound in my ear. The telltale sign that I’m about to have a panic attack. No, not now, I am okay. I gulp air angrily and shove down the feelings.
Worried now I carefully look through everything. What’s different? Has anything been moved? With my home seemingly unchanged, I slumped on the couch in defeat.
As I melt into the warmth my gaze shifts to the behemoth collage of family’s past. I made it last year when everything happened. When I lost everyone. Directly in the middle of the wall it sat. Beautiful side mirrors accenting the special portraits. A strange sensation ripped through me as my eyes lock on the mirrors. Confusion and utter fear electrify down my spine. Who is that?!
Right where my own reflection should be crumpled lazily, someone else took my place. This person had dark hair, where I have bright red. It jolted up,as did I. I froze. It froze. I closed my eyes. Fire was boiling through my cheeks. I take a heavy breath.
YEE I squealed, gearing up.
When I open them again I stand up determinedly. It stands up. What the hell? I move closer and of course,it follows suit. As I examine the face and it follows my every move robotically, I realize this is me. Not what I should look like, but this is who I am for some reason.
I start spinning aggressively to cope and self regulate. What. Is. Going. On. The turns get faster and faster. Brutal becomes tame as my head contorts sickly with almost no control. Finally It all stops, with a loud and puffy thud.
My head launches onto the comfort of the wall foam I use for therapy. I gather my thoughts and inhale deeply.
Okay I am me, but my appearance was not. My pictures are all wrong people, but the frames are normal. Everything in my house is the way it should be, the way it was left last night. Right down to the oreo crusted spoon and mug that’s been sitting on the counter for two days now. Accumulating fruit flies, who swarmed proudly per usual. My therapy section of the living room is there. Which once again, quelled me from overwhelm. My daily normal.
Except it all feels like a delusion. Am I going insane? Seeing things? Or even more unsettling, losing my memory? Forgetting mine and my families looks but nothing else. Is that possible…
I was about to be put to the test. The door bell rang annoyingly. As if someone was pressing the button too fast. Who could that be? My family is dead, I have no one and it’s in the middle of the night.
I shakily walk to the door, trusty cutlass in hand.
To be continued.
She breathed like that of an angel. Corny, I know. But the way she exhaled was so soft. The sound, it was ridiculously comforting. Supple. There’s really no other way to explain it. Think of how crazy that is to say? I love the way she breathes but it’s true, laughably so.
Most notably though, there was also darkness within her. Wickedness. She was like a pricker bush with berries. So so sweet, almost sickening, the sugar high. But if you don’t pay attention, or carelessly bat away the branches, you’ll feel the sharp pangs. She’s prickly. Hell some days, there’s no berries at all. They’re out of season.
But I love both sides. You cannot receive the fruit, without dealing tenderly with the thorns. And, I suppose, same with me. We fit together fluidly. She handles me with delicious passion and I ravage her with my tones of soul. We are threaded together, woven symbolically as one. I am her chaotic euphoria and she is my twisted pleasure. We’re both fucked up, she gets it. We are the beacon to each other’s endless, and provoking tempests.
Disgust surged through my body. Did I just hear correctly? Not, HIM. Not now!
Desperate to escape the lies he spread, I moved hours away to start over. Or so people think, anyway. He complicated my life. Most people would think it’s impulsive or childish to move, just because an ex persuaded everyone we knew that I was a whore.
But it was more than that. And he’s the only one who knows. The one thing he didn’t spread, seems he only tells falsehoods, not truth.
But… even when it could’ve wrecked my entire life? Let alone career? He easily could have destroyed me by telling this one honest fact but instead resorted to superficial lies that most wouldn’t give a shit about. The most common response to his bullshit?
“She’s a whore? Good for her! Honestly get over it.” Surprisingly enough, most were proud of me. He was a controlling, cheating ass.
I could have stayed in town, if it were just for that. And maybe even with everything I could have stayed. But I couldn’t. The possibility of him someday getting a hair across his ass and telling was too much. He had evidence, and probably still does knowing him.
So. When I moved I changed everything. My name. My looks. My entire being. 10 years man, I’ve adjusted to a rigid expectation and comfort: my safety.
Stifling, hot breath hit my neck, “Well now. Aurora! You are one challenging woman to find! If, that’s even the right name of the week?”
I awoke frantically. The alarm on my phone blared the specific tune I chose for Tuesday. Damn it. Yup, day 3. Unless it’s a glitch in my alarms. Really tried staying up last night. I wanted to see if it would change anything. I had to try something.
Aleya woke suddenly now. Her eyes darting around the room until they locked with mine. She gave me a questioning face and I just nodded.
“Same day again?? How do you know so quickly??” She looked intrigued.
With her eyes wide and the tossled hair, she looked so wound up. I chuckled to myself. “Well it’s a theory haha. But my Tuesday song played again.” I said.
She slumps her body down with a huff. Then jolts up. “Well. We gotta go see if the days the same then! Yeee!” She says enthusiastically. Trying to use her charming humor to make light of the never ending loop we’re in.
We both get dressed and go downstairs to see if our friends were there. If theyw ere it would mean it was still Tuesday. We planned this sleepover for months, everyone had different places to fly from. It just wouldn’t make sense. Because they leave. If today was indeed the next day, Wednesday, we would get our usual morning call from them. We all call every mornings to catch up. Besides. We brought them to the airport!
“Leya! Sis. Can’t believe it’s our last day! Imma miss you the most…hey now don’t be mad, Can’t really beat that sister bond man” Tony said defensive as he saw the friendly jealous in the other friends eyes. Everyone laughed happily and went about their morning. Aleya and I knew immediately that it was in fact Tuesday times 3. We went about the day, desperately trying to think of a way out of this never ending loop.
alarm blares Aleya and I wake simultaneously this time. Maybe it’s different! We lock eyes and my heart becomes hopeful. She yawns, almost happily and at ease. Then playfully nudges into me.
“Wow I can’t believe they’re all leaving today…I’m really gonna miss em ya know? But. It’s been a wonderful few days!” She says to me. Horror pulsates through me. I couldn’t swallow before responding.
“What do you mean… I mean. What day is it? And how many times have we done it??” I asked, my voice rising in panic. She looked absolutely bewildered.
“Ermmm. I mean I cannot calculate at this time how many Tuesday’s we’ve had in our lives…but I’m assuming A lot babe” she chuckled.
She had forgotten. It was all up to me now…will I forget too?
