I tear through her gaze and look down to see that I have almost completed her sketch. Melissa has been insisting that I give life to her twin in my sketch book, so I did today. I look up again to see if I have been accurate in capturing all the angles. There’s a tiny smirk that appears on the little pale girl’s face. She looks at me, then moves in my direction.
I am startled with her straightforward move but I stay put. She doesn’t break eye contact, as she takes a dead rose with a long brown-green stick jutting out of it. She places it on the sketch and I am forced to look down when my sister accidentally drops a coin, as she heads for the door quickly, as if an emergency has befallen.
I am on my feet instantly and I head out of the house, following her. I run down the streets for a long time calling her name, my voice picking up a frustrated and tired note. I don’t give up though because Mel doesn’t stop. I can feel my parents calling my name behind me and for once, I do not obey them. I am sure they will understand that I am just pursing my little sister.
She twists and turns down the streets a couple of times. She only stops as a wide truck hits her and that’s where I blackout as I see her blood pool on the asphalt street. I don’t understand how long I am off, but I know that darkness has me enveloped for a long time now.
I put a lot of effort in opening my eyes but before my eye lids can move, my ears start to pick up sound. I can hear my mother cry, uncontrollable sobs and speak between her breaths. It takes her energy I can feel it but just as she speaks, I stop attempting to open my eyes and listen carefully.
“Not again, John. I cannot lose another child…” She cries a bit as I try to make sense of her words but then continues, “He still thinks that Melissa is alive, I know he does.” I assume that my dad must have shaken his head in disagreement or something because she answers, “No, no… I saw it in his sketch, he sketched his sister with the same empty look, as when she died.”
I hold my breath or my breath suddenly leaves my chest. I don’t know which but I know that my mind has tricked me yet again. Although, my heart disagrees and doesn’t want to believe but a little part of my brain that must be sane or maybe insane, brings up images of Melissa’s funeral. “It’s been two years, John and he still thinks that Mel is alive. I have seen him smile warmly to someone he sees. I am sure, it is Melissa whom he sees.”
She continues to cry and utters something else between her sobs but I know now what I didn’t know. It was me who hit the truck and the pale Melissa is the real Melissa and the real Melissa is dead. I was only seeing my little sister in my hallucinations.
