Intertwined

==Faith==

May 2011

As a photographer, I didn't just capture pictures. I also capture memories. I captured happiness, I captured sadness, I captured tragedy. My camera was my memory jar, and my photos links to the past. Links that might otherwise be swept away in today's society.

I lived in Manhattan, having settled there after securing my degree in photojournalism. I was only fourth generation American, born to parents whose great-grandparents departed from the shores of beautiful Greece. I had only two siblings: an older brother and a younger sister. My parents were wonderful people who treated me and raised me well. Or rather, my mother was, as I lost my father when I was seven.

I ran a rather successful photography business out of downtown Manhattan with my sister-in-law Geneva. She and my brother Isaac had been married for five years, and I learned early on in their relationship that she shared my love for photography. She too loved capturing a split-second of a memory on film that would last forever in someone's mind and knowing that we held a piece of it.

As such a well-known photographer, I often took pictures of or for rich people, for lack of a better word. And today just happened to be one of those days. Several months ago, a wealthy businessman called me and asked me to do a photo shoot of his wife and baby, who was born only days earlier than the shoot. And so today my nerves would be frazzled, furthered by the fact that I'd just separated from my boyfriend of two years. Thank God I could use photography to, in a way, escape from all my petty problems.

"Alright Mrs. Tillien, position the baby so that she covers your breasts…okay, and perfect. Geneva, adjust the lightning, it's a little bright."

"Faith…"

"What is it Geneva?" I questioned, turning to her.

She stared at me in confusion. She had been adjusting the light as I asked, but paused when I addressed her. "I didn't call you, Faith," she answered.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Today was not the day to mess with me. "Somebody said my name."

Geneva shook her head as she returned to adjusting the lighting. I stood watching her until it was up to her unusually high standards, and then she stepped down, wiping her hands on her denim jeans. "I promise you, Faith. Nobody said your name." Geneva paused, looking at me sympathetically, and reached out to rest her hand on my shoulder. "Maybe you're just stressed. After all, you've got a lot to deal with lately, what with all these high-priority shoots and Sammy-"

"Don't," I said quickly, holding up my hand. Hearing the name of my ex-boyfriend was the last thing I needed today. I'd met Sammy two years ago in one of my photography classes. I was taking it to prepare for my major, he to fill in a missing credit. Needless to say, Sammy was not a photographer, and since I had been the top student in the class, he came to for help on our numerous projects. It didn't take me long to fall in love with Sammy. He was incredibly down-to-earth, had crisp blue eyes that reminded me of the skies soaring over Greece, and was the one and only human being who could charm a smile onto my face regardless of my mood. But shortly after our two year anniversary, Sammy had suddenly ended things, and it didn't take me very long to discover why. He was seen not long after our breakup galavanting around Manhattan with another woman. Obviously I was left heartbroken, and I threw myself into my work to make up for everything.

"Mrs. Gideon?" I jumped at the sound of a male voice, as did Geneva. A crisply dressed businessman approached the two of us, looking slightly disgruntled. I smoothed down the black beanie I had secured on the top of my head once I realized this was my current client. "I was wondering why you weren't taking shots of my wife and daughter? I didn't make a mistake in hiring you for this job, did I?"

"Oh, no sir," I replied politely. I cursed myself for slacking this slight bit, even if it was for only a few minutes. "My assisstant and I were simply adjusting the lights so that your pictures will be absolute perfection, sir."

"Suck-up," Geneva hissed to me quietly. I let my elbow slip into her stomach and she grunted.

Mr. Tillien smoothed down his shining purple tie. He then smoothly guided his hand into the chest pocket of his suit and produced a slim, white envelope. He pressed it into my hands. "I should hope so. I was told you were the best in Manhattan. This is the address I will be staying at for the next few weeks, and where I would like the photos delivered. I would like them in the next few days." With that, he walked away.

I sat down on the ground and buried my head in my hands. This past week had simply not been agreeing with me, and today's fiasco had just added another tally mark to the counter. I took a slow, staggering deep breath, knowing I needed a few moments to collect myself and calm down.

"Faith, please help me…"

My head shot up. Again with this? "Who called my name?" I snapped. Every head in the vicinity turned towards me. "What do you want?"

"Nobody called your name, Faith," Geneva replied. She was looking at me like as if she was beginning to think I was losing my mind. And I more than likely was, if I was hearing bodiless voices. "Hun, I think you need to go home and get some rest. You've been really stressed out this past week."

I nodded my head, then slid my small hands through my hair, watching as the mixture of black and blonde tresses fell through my fingers. "I suppose you're right," I agreed. I got to my feet, staggering as I accomplished my goal too quickly. "If Mr. Tillien is wanting these photos in three days, I'll need to start developing them."

My sister-in-law rolled her eyes and chuckled at me. "Promise me you'll relax?" she said. She held her thumb and index finger very close together. "Just a little?"

"I promise," I repeated. Then I departed, my camera hung over my shouder.

♪•♫•♪•♫•♪•♫•♪•♫•♪

As I had promised Geneva, after I had hung the Tillien photos to dry in my dark room, I settled on my small sofa with a bowl of popcorn. After spending an annoyingly large portion of time flipping through the channels, I finally decided on Paranormal Activity. I myself had never been a large believer in the paranormal, but the subject certainly did make for a good horror movie.

Throughout the movie, I fiddled with my phone, turning it over in my hands. I was debating on whether or not to call Sammy. It'd been nearly three weeks since we'd broken up, and he had certainly moved on. Would it seem too desperate for me to contact him? It more than likely would, but I wanted to ever so badly. This was the man I'd fallen in love with, and I wanted him back. I sighed dejectedly. In the end, I decided it was best left alone, and set my phone aside.

"Faith…" 

I rolled my eyes at the third appearance of this irritating voice, but was slightly put off this time around. Before, it was easily played off on Geneva or another member of my photography crew, but now I was alone. I shook my head, scolding myself for how stupid I was being. I was incredibly tired, and this was driving my mind to imagine things that simply were not there. I clicked off the television, knowing I needed to go to bed, but decided I should check on my developing pictures beforehand.

The dark red light of my dark room was haunting to some, but to me it was soothing. I knew that in this room, under these lights, memories were being preserved. Very carefully, I pulled the Tillien photos from the drying line and arranged them on the table to study them. The first few were average photos, ones I would use only if the need arised. The next few were excellent; I sat them aside for use in the Tillien portfolio. It was the last picture that caught my eye. It, like the first few, was an average photo, but that was not what drew my attention. In the background, behind Mrs. Tillien and her infant daughter, was the faint outline of a girl. I just make out her face and the very edges of her body. I gasped softly. Could it be that I had captured some sort of spirit in one of my photos? But no, that was not possible. The paranormal did not exist.

"Finally you see what has been hidden from you for so long," a haunting voice said from behind me. I turned slowly, scared of what I would find, and was confronted with a faded figure of a girl. Looking closely, I could see that she resembled the outline of the girl in my photo. And…she looked exactly like me. I felt as though I was gazing into a ghostly mirror.

"Who are you?" I asked the spirit.

"My name is Sky," the girl answered. "And I am your twin sister."