Speak of the Devil

Cassie-

My blank, expressionless stare was focused on the world outside my window. Inside the room there was white everywhere. White ceiling, white tile floor, white walls that seemed to be closing in. The smell of antiseptic was suffocating me.

The room was mostly empty aside from a small bed with white sheets, a wooden dresser, and a bedside table. I stared at the drowning world beyond the glass with no emotion. The deafening silence was suddenly broken by a loud episode of thunder and the darkness of the stormy morning was illuminated by the following flash of lightning.

My finger traced the paths on the window left by raindrops that continued to fall. I gazed down from my position on the second floor, across the lawn, to the gate that held the name of my prison.

"MORNINGSIDE PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTION "

I heard footsteps outside my door before one of the nurses, Libby, walked in. She smiled when she saw me but I didn't, couldn't, return the gesture. She didn't let that affect her mood, though.

"Good morning, Cassie! How are you feeling today?"

I was a little more comfortable around Libby than the other nurses. I actually liked Libby, she remembered to call me Cassie instead of Cassandra, and her always enthusiastic, upbeat attitude (though sometimes annoying) was slightly amusing. I hated it though, when people asked me that question. My lips thinned a little before I answered.

"I'm okay, Libby. How are you?" I answered quietly.

She knew I was lying. I could tell by the way her smile faltered a little before fixing itself. She knew I wasn't okay and was probably mentally slapping herself for asking such a ridiculous question. She pretended not to notice and instead answered.

"I'm great, thanks! I'm here to tell you your parents are here to take you home." Her smile grew; she was happy for me.

Home. It wasn't my home anymore, not really. I wasn't happy about going back to the house I grew up in, the house WE grew up in. The house with pictures of HER, memories of HER. But I was looking forward to leaving this goddamned hospital.

I stood from the window seat and grabbed the handle of my suitcase that was waiting by the door before making my way downstairs behind Libby. We passed many rooms and I heard many patients shrieking, tormented by the demons in their heads. Some were talking to themselves, and some were eerily silent. We made our way to the lobby where I found my parents.

They looked older than I remembered; hints of grey in their hair, and more wrinkled. Their eyes had lost the light they once had and were now dull and clouded by grief and sadness. I cleared my throat to gain their attention and their eyes found me. I was soon enclosed in their arms and surrounded by the familiar smell. My father smelled like leather and cologne and my mother smelled like her favorite perfume. The rain on their clothes was cold.

They were both smiling and Libby was beaming at me.

"Let's go home, Sweetie." My mother said, her eyes misty. I hugged Libby and said my goodbyes to her and Donna at the front desk, then left with my parents. After stepping outside, my father opened his umbrella and held my mother close, as she held my bag.

"Come on, Cassie." My father urged. I stepped under the umbrella and we hurried to the car. The entire way home, my parents talked to me and I gave short responses. My eyes stayed glued to the window the entire ride.

They asked me about my stay at the hospital, to which I answered,

"It was three months of Hell." That shut them up. We arrived at the house in half an hour. By this time the rain had ceased and I stepped out of the car and inhaled the air that was thick and warm with humidity.

My father unlocked the front door and we walked in. I could feel their eyes on me, judging my reaction. I kept my expression neutral and made my way up the stairs. I purposely kept my eyes forward, avoiding the pictures on the wall. I entered my bedroom and was immediately confused. Why was all of my stuff in boxes?

I stepped towards my bed and grabbed the neon green note taped to the headboard.

"Cassie,
Your father and I didn't know how to tell you so I wrote you this note. You must be confused about why your stuff is in boxes. The answer is, we're moving. We think a change of scenery would be good for all of us. We're moving to Los Angeles tomorrow (we already bought he house while you were away). You're going to love the house- it's gorgeous. I know this must shock you and you must already be tired, so go to sleep and we'll leave around eleven tomorrow. We missed you so much, Sweetheart.
We love you xoxo,
Mom"

I stared at the piece of paper, shocked. Moving? Wow...

I made my way to the bathroom that was connected to my bedroom. Immediately, my eyes searched the floor. My eyes found a new bathroom rug. Of course they would try to cover it up. I kicked up the corner of the rug and found a faded orange stain on the tile. It looked as though someone had tried to scrub it away, unsuccessfully.

Oh, mom... I could picture her on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor furiously with tears streaming down her face. This theory was confirmed by the strong smell of cleaner that reminded me of the hospital. I frowned at the stain and my finger absentmindedly traced the long vertical scar on my arm, identical to the one on my other arm. This was the sight of my failed suicide attempt, the one that landed me in Morningside for three damn months.

I kicked down the edge of the rug, and without thinking turned towards the mirror but stopped suddenly when I saw my reflection. My breath stopped and my eyes widened before I collapsed to my knees. Tears filled my eyes and sobs burned in my throat. The girl staring back at me was pale and had long black hair. Her eyes were a gorgeous blue and framed by thick black lashes, matted with tears. A small nose, arched eyebrows, and a small rosebud mouth colored dark pink completed her face.

Pain ripped through my chest at the sight of her because though she looked exactly like me, I only saw my twin sister, who had been dead for four months, who left me alone with a broken heart and half a soul.