There was a sudden flash illuminating Kara’s field of view.
And then nothing.
Nothing but an endless dark room, where seemingly nothing and everything exist simultaneously.
But then she saw the edge of a sword — no — a knife. And in an instant she saw a trillion different realities folding onto each other like thin sheets of metal forming a single blade.
Kara saw a whole life unravel before her eyes.
The kisses on the hand and endless bouquets of flowers. The cliched romantic foot pop.
The beautiful picnic dates and moonlit stargazing. The midnight drives along the shoreline.
The perfectly planned engagement and wedding. The stunning honeymoon in Bora Bora.
The three bedroom house in the suburbs, the “mom van,” and the nursery. The nervous first parent energy in anticipation of their newest member of the family.
But Kara’s soft smile was all too soon washed from her face as that life continued to unravel.
The perpetual doubting and wondering if you’re good enough. The sleepless nights.
The constant screaming and the incessant crying. The cooing apologies, quickly forgiven.
The deafening silence.
The Missing Person posters.
A woman and her unborn baby. Gone.
The pleading voice of the husband and the numerous sprawling search parties. The news broadcast looping on repeat.
The never ending calls to police departments and the fabricated wild goose chases. The built-up charade.
The haunting, twinkle in the eyes and a protective sister. The rage simmering beneath the surface.
The manhunt and the chase. The quick win for the victor.
A lifeless body pushed over the edge of a bridge and a satisfying splash. A look shared with the heavens to remember the cost.
The sound of sirens.
The mugshots.
The justice deserved.
“Don’t go,” Kara said, as she white knuckled the edge of the couch.
At the shaky tone of her sister, Tara was immediately on edge. “Don’t go where?”
“Don’t go on that date.”
“Kare, you’re just being protective...” Tara laughed uneasily.
But Kara was not deterred. “Don’t let him lure you in with the pretty ring. Don’t let him see your fears. Don’t let him do anything to you.”
Tara stood shock still as her sister paused.
“He will kill you.
And I will make him pay for it.
I saw the whole thing.”
Heavy thought, heavy footsteps, You hear a door slam. With one look, You promise to see me for all I am.
The heart wants what it wants, Another soul, another view. With a nod, You promise that you will always be blue.
I want to leave, be free, Take some time to be apart. With your hands, You promise to hold me forever in your heart.
After the mismatches, the fights, You never ask why. With your eyes, You promise this fire will never die.
I try to turn away, tears shedding, A feeble attempt to flee. With your lips, You promise your future is only me.
You say our paths may go on to tangle, “What does the Universe have in store?” With a smile, You promise to say nothing more.
[🌟Joy,💧sadness, 👻fear, ‼️anger, 🤢disgust]
👻: What is he doing here?
💧: It’s been so long since we hung out.
👻: Do you think he’ll recognize us? DON’T MAKE EYE CONTACT!
‼️: He was a prick.
💧: But we used to be such great friends, can’t we get back there?
🤢: Absolutely not. 🤢: He’s an objectifying misogynistic asshole who threatened to sexually use you for his own personal gain.
(‼️ and 👻 liked a message)
‼️: Yeah, fuck him ‼️: oh shit, we made eye contact
👻: I thought I said no eye contact!!
🌟: You guys left the eye controls unattended and I thought seeing him smile would make me happy
(‼️ emphasized a message)
‼️: if I could emphasize AND dislike a message — I would
🤢: I gotchu
(🤢 disliked a message)
🤢: Joy, go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done. 🤢: Anger, you take it from here.
‼️: My pleasure.
...
...
...
🌟: Can I at least remind her of a happy moment with him?
💧: But then that’s MY responsibility
🌟: Fine.
(💧 liked a message)
💧: We can give you controls after i’m done with her. She deserves a good cry after this.
🤢: He’s gone. Now. Honestly. Eff this guy. Who jokes about stuff like that???
‼️: We’re never forgiving him. ‼️: I’m not letting her.
👻: Because he could do it again.
...
...
...
💧: My turn now?
Can I change you? A far off, deep set horizon, barren and black To greenery, or water, teeming with life
Can I change you? Guarded by solid walls, stone cold, unmoving To glimmer of emotion, vulnerability, raw honesty
Can I change you? A void of worry, anxiety, irrelevant insecurities To deep breaths, grounded and secure
Can I change you? Haunted and scarred by regrets, your past To healing, nurtured, faced forward
I want to help.
Will you let me?
Bleary eyed, at 7:49am, I walked out of my bedroom, dragging my feet towards the bathroom of my apartment. I didn’t sleep well. I had weird, vivid dreams of not being good enough for my friends and family. Tossing and turning all night as my subconscious raced wildly didn’t lend itself to a restful sleep.
As I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I reminded myself that this Work from Home situation was much more convenient because I don’t even know who I am outside of sweatpants. I look back a year ago and think, ‘Wow, she looks like an entirely different person. Getting up and getting dressed, commuting to work, and dealing with people face to face — that version of me has so much energy.’ I give her kudos, mentally patting myself on the back for my past me’s productivity as I simultaneously berate my current self for not getting up earlier.
It’s a love-hate relationship.
Once I change into my pandemic work clothes, I feel ready to start my day. My watch reads 8:26am. Perfect. I turn to my desk to boot up my laptop but I stop short.
There’s someone.
At my desk.
Doing work.
I pause, taking in the sight. My first reaction is to flip out because why wouldn’t I? I live in a secure apartment complex on the 5th floor, how could a stranger get in???
But I am surprisingly calm. This person looks like me. To a tee. Honestly, it feels like a weird out of body experience. I’ve always wondered what people see when they look at me. Do I always look like that?
I observe.
“Hey... do you want me to make us some coffee?” I caution a greeting in her direction.
Without looking at me she says “Hey! That’d be great! I’m just sending off some emails, Emily wants to set up a meeting with me and Paige and David wanted me to loop in Accounting on the situation from yesterday.” She continues clicking away, fingers clacking against the keyboard, mousing flitting from screen to screen.
I start the coffee maker and walk over to where she sits, and hover behind her, curious. Those are actual things I needed to get done today. Huh. I briefly wonder if people will know the difference between me and uh—
“What’s your name?” I direct it at her as im trying to get our coffees situated.
“Oh i’m Isabelle.” She waves a little hi before turning back to the computer. It’s quiet for a moment and I hear her huff anxiously. “Is David always so intimidating??” She peers at me from the laptop.
“Most of the time? But he is the owner of the company, so he can’t always be a big softie.” I hand her the steaming coffee, smiling to myself. I return to the kitchen to clean up and glance back at Isabelle, diligently working on my (our?) work.
I take out my phone, take a picture of my apparent twin, and send it to my best friend and co-worker, Dawn, with the text “so um, this is a thing that happened? Her name is Isabelle and she just like appeared in my apartment and is doing my work? I don’t know 😅 send help”
Immediately, there are three dots typing. The responses come back in quick succession.
“WHAT”
“HOW”
“WHO IS THAT”
“Are you ok”
“Am I ok”
“What is happening here”
“I need more coffee”
She took it better than I thought. I quickly shoot off a text or two, responding with what I have inferred from this morning.
The text comes back in “So are you - real you - working then?”
I hum to myself as I internally debate getting work done alongside her or just, you know, not.
It’s not a hard choice.
I decide to change into actual people clothes, so I can go run some errands after finishing up chores I’ve been putting off, peripherally aware of this total stranger. Luckily, I live alone so Isabelle’s presence won’t startle anyone else.
As i’m getting ready to leave, I stop by the desk.
“I’ll be heading out, call me if you need anything. There’s food in the fridge, just eat whatever, make yourself at home!” I jot my phone number on a post it note before ultimately locking up behind me.
When I got back after work hours, feeling accomplished, Isabelle was nowhere to be found.
But my work was done.
Shoes scuff along the pavement, soles worn thin. A trail of worn out and untied shoelaces behind them. His heavy breaths echo in the cool October night, leaving puffs of condensation in their wake. The dim orange glow of the streetlights provide an illusory perception of safety, the void of shadows seemingly closing in on the light.
A crosswalk looms ahead; he still has five seconds to cross, and so he does. The deserted streets and abandoned sidewalks mock him. The rules are in place for a reason, he thinks. It’s the principle. It’s right.
He pulls his hood up over his head, feeling watched.
Xander wasn’t a bad person. He really wasn’t. A solid B+ student, but he always tried the hardest. Kept in touch with most of his family, but cared the most. Had only four friends, but kept them close. He was extremely determined and extremely loyal.
Whispers ring out in the otherwise hushed air.
Xander keeps his head forward and focuses on where he’s headed. His right hand tightens on the grip of his pocket knife, currently sheathed in his jacket. Protection. Prevention. His left hand clutches his phone like a lifeline, the music in his earbuds silenced over three blocks ago. Nothing now to drown out the cacophony of mental noise reverberating off his walls, leaving nothing behind but pure destruction. Can’t let them think he’s distracted and paranoid.
Because he’s not.
The eyes on him feel closer, more imminent. He quickens his pace. Lurking in the shadows, piercing gaze trained on him. Watching. Waiting.
A noise rips him from his thoughts, his head whipping to his right. He pauses as two pairs of beady yellow eyes stare back at him from the alleyway. Raccoons, he thinks. He’s not the threat here. They’re not the threat. The harrowing eyes on his back don’t belong to them.
Xander resumes.
Face forward.
Eyes down.
There’s a faint hum in the air, he notices, as he quirks his ear around, utilizing every possible sense to give him an upper hand. A sliver of an advantage, maybe. But soon, the air around him thickens and realization settles in next to the dread pooling at the bottom his stomach as his senses confirm his worst thought. His past is here. And it’s back with a vengeance.
He’s not going to win this fight.
But he’s gonna try the hardest, because he cares the most. He’s determined.
Xander has but one little moment to react.
Hershey Kisses were this 11-year old’s favorite candy. Soft, gooey, melt in your mouth chocolate.
Which is why when her parents took her to Chocolate World in Hershey, PA, Jazz just had to get a memento - a teddy bear with her favorite candy on it. It didn’t hurt that the teddy bear was blue - her favorite color.
Jazz took Kisses, the bear, everywhere! To dance class, to school, and especially on trips.
In that respect, Florida was no different. Sun shining and warm, with an ocean breeze. But what was different was that this time, Jazz met a friend. A cute boy. That happened to be a family friend. But he wasn’t just cute.
This lanky 11-year old was butterflies-in-your-stomach, make-you-giggle-nonstop, his-presence-makes-you-act-like-a-dork level cute.
It was unfair, really, to only get to spend a few days of vacation with him. But the two kids spent the entire trip playing on the beach together, blowing bubbles together, playing house together, forging a strong friendship. And everywhere these kids went, Kisses the bear went with them too.
Soon though, vacation was over.
Jazz didn’t want to leave. She had just made a best friend! A cute best friend! How was she going to let him know she liked him? How could she tell him that he was unforgettable? That she was going to miss him? Maybe a note?
Jazz wrote him a little goodbye note. But it wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t even going to get a chance to say goodbye to him because he had school the day she went home. The universe was rude sometimes.
But on the last day she snuck into his room and left her note on his desk for him to find.
And when he got home from school, feeling sad about his new friend being gone, he read her note and took one look at her favorite blue bear and knew that he was special to her.
He would always remember Kisses and that trip that could’ve been the start of something new.
And if these two kids got together three years later, bonding over Kisses and kisses...then the Universe just had its timeline.
“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!” Elizabeth rushed into the room, smile wide on her face. “Seriously, Olivia, they’re so happy. And they have every right to be.”
Olivia looked at her best friend, leveling her with a gaze, eyes narrowing.
Suspicious.
Olivia glanced at where her best friend just ran in from — the bedroom? Did Bethy meet someone online? She raised an eyebrow questioningly. They don’t have other friends.
“I want you to meet them!” Bethy squealed excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Skeptically, Olivia tilted her head toward the other girl as she was beckoned into the bedroom to presumably meet this “happiest person.”
But as she walked in, her soul sister right behind her, she came face to face with a mirror.
Recognition settles in a moment as she takes in the trap. A smile tugged at her lips. She looked into the reflective surface and locked eyes with her best friend hovering over her shoulder, a teasing glint in her eyes. A full smile broke out as she thought that Bethy’s original statement was probably at least halfway true.
“Fuck, why me?”
Rain poured, thick drops hitting the pavement beneath her. Water spattered up, clinging to her jeans, soaking through the blue denim, seemingly seeping into her very being, mocking her.
Thunder crackles in the distance and she shudders. It isn’t bad yet.
She peers from underneath her temporary solace, blue awning whipping around in the harsh storm winds. No lightning yet. Maybe she could do this!
Tentatively she reaches out her hand to test the waters, but immediately retracts it. It’s drenched.
“ARGHHH” she grumbles in her throat in frustration.
And as if the weather shared her frustration, another rumble of thunder rolled in, closer this time, and longer. Sending shivers up her spine, less about the temperature, more to do with just the general...everything.
It’s not like she’s ever had a truly terrifying experience with a storm. No childhood trauma haunting her. No personal story. Just a fear. Because what if she’s driving and a tree trunk cracks and blocks the road, or worse, hits her? What if the power goes out in the building she’s in and she’s stranded? What if she’s on her way home and stuck under an awning while a thunderstorm rages around her and she can’t get back to her car let alone see the road? What if she hydroplanes? What if lightning strikes her car?
Her anxiety is spiking again, as it does time and time again. Her legs and arms shuddering with every breath as she tries to distract herself with literally anything.
But she’s alone in this strip mall, the parking lot illuminated by two streetlights. Further away there’s an intersection of stop lights swaying violently in time with the wind.
Oh no.
What if she’s driving underneath and the stop light detaches and crushes through the roof of her car, shattering her windshield and killing her with the sheer size and gravitational force???
So sometimes her anxiety is bad.
She shakes her head vehemently. It. Will. Be. Fine. She tries scanning the surrounding areas but darkness shrouds any semblance of house from tree from road. It makes her uneasy.
And as if the weather sensed her uneasiness, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, casting a blinding yellow-white light across her horizon, a brilliant contrast to the silhouetted structures. But it’s gone quicker than her sanity, although her eyes fail to adjust to the light quick enough, remnants of the flash continuing to blind her until slowly fade back into darkness.
Whether it was two minutes or two hours, she knew she was stuck. She slumps against the shoddy storefront, resigned to her fate.
