amazing story *0*

i DiD NOT WRiTE THiS!!!


The silence was deafening but it was nothing new to the small family. The soft clinks of silver cutlery on expensive china plates were usually the only noises heard at the dinner table, perhaps the occasional scrape of a knife when the young girl cut through her meat too viciously.
The silence was their comfort. Never awkward, for it had been that way for nearly ten years. A safe-haven – relief, because it was an expectation that no-one ever spoke at the dinner table.
“I have a new friend.”
The announcement was soft and meek but both mother and father started in shock, the overbearing peace shattered. For a few moments the parents exchanged expressions of bewilderment and uncertainty, and finally the girl’s mother spoke.
“Oh?” she said softly, unused to talk at the table. “That’s nice, Anna.”
They slipped back into silence.


Droplets of sweat glistened on the woman’s forehead as she readjusted the heavy basket full of clean washing on her hip. Using her free arm to wipe the sweat from her brow, she walked inside, passing her daughter’s open window on the way in.
Renee slowed and stopped, her ears picking up a faint murmuring coming from her daughter’s room. The language wasn’t English, as far as she could tell, and from what she knew of Anna’s school life she wasn’t learning any other. Renee frowned and continued inside, dumping the basket to the floor. She wondered if Anna had borrowed the phone and was talking with that new friend she said she had last night. But no – Renee’s eyes caught sight of the phone still hooked up to the machine.
Moving swiftly to her daughter’s room, she nearly trod on the cat which came hurtling down the hallway. Ignoring the hostile hiss flung in her direction, she didn’t even bother to knock on Anna’s door, managing to hear the last snippet of speech – which most certainly was not English, nor was it any other she was familiar with.
Anna, sitting cross-legged in front of her mirror, looked up the moment she noticed her mother’s reflection.
“Anna, who’re you talking to?” Renee asked. Anna smiled innocently.
“My friend,” she said brightly, in perfect English. Renee glanced around the bedroom as if expecting to see some uninvited child hiding behind the curtains.
“I…see…”
“You scared her away,” Anna explained. “She was here.”
Imaginary friend, then. Renee knew imaginary friends were not uncommon.. She herself had one at that age. Smiling gently, Renee sat next to her daughter. “And what is your friend’s name?”
The name that fell from the girl’s lips nearly made Renee’s heart skip a beat.
“Katie.”
Renee froze, her mind numb. “Katie…” she murmured, staring at Anna.
“Well, really it’s Kathryn. But she makes me call her Katie.”


“M-mum…? Mummy…?”
The voice was unwelcome. It came like a tear between two dimensions, the fine line which separated her dreams from reality, and for a few mystified moments Renee wondered where George Clooney had gone to.
“Mummy?”
Fear-laced and trembling, Anna’s voice invaded the overwhelming desire to sleep again, striking her with panic. Forcing her lead-heavy eyelids open, she could barely see her daughter’s face through the inky darkness.
“Anna?” Renee mumbled, her voice thick with fatigue. “Annabel, what’s wrong?”
The girl stifled a sob. Nightmare, Renee hazarded.
Her husband snored loudly.
“Annabel?”
“S-she…she told me to.”
Renee’s brow furrowed and she dragged herself upright into a sitting position on the bed, catching sight of Anna’s shadowy silhouette in the darkness beside her. A dank metallic scent hit her nostrils, making her cringe. Flinching, she forced down her gag reflex.
“Who, Anna?”
No answer. Just another sob.
Renee held out her hand. “Anna, talk to me. Who?”
“She – she didn’t like the cat, mummy. She said it was evil –”
Renee fumbled around her beside table for the light, her fingers shaking.
“Mummy, she made me do it.”
Catching the switch, light flooded the bedroom and Renee was blinded. Blinking furiously, her eyes adjusted quickly and painfully.
She screamed.
It was an inhumane screech of terror, clawing at her throat like an enraged animal. The girl twisted her bloodied hands together tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks and mingling with specks of foul-smelling blood.
“You do believe me, don’t you, mummy? I didn’t mean to!” she cried, her shoulders heaving. “She made me do it! Katie made me do it!”
“Tell me about Katie, Anna.”
“She’s my friend.”
“What does she look like?”
“Like me..”
“Like in a mirror?”
“Yeah. Like in a mirror.”

“She doesn’t like to leave me alone.”
“Why might that be?”
“She says she feels lonely without me.”
“What about you, Anna? Do you feel lonely when she’s not there?”
“…Yeah.”
“Annabel, what have we been discussing lately? Can you tell me?”
“It was Katie.”
“No, Annabel. Katie isn’t real. Remember?”
“Katie did it! Katie made me do it! Why won’t you believe me? It was Katie!”
“Anna –”
“KATIE DID IT! KATIE DID IT! KATIE DID IT! KATIE DID IT! KATIE, KATIE, KATIE, KATIE, KATIE –”
“Stop the tape.”

Mother pressed the button, the last echoes of my psychotic screams fading away. The silence stretched out between us. She glanced at me, fearfully – maybe even a little guiltily. I ignored her and continued to stare at the three pieces of paper in front of me.
Birth Certificate: Annabel Kostova.
Birth Certificate: Kathryn Kostova.
Death Certificate: Kathryn Kostova.
My sister.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Was that my voice? I didn’t even remember speaking. My mouth was too dry – my mind paralyzed with shock. Mother bit her lip anxiously and glanced away quickly.
“We…we couldn’t. We…” She trailed off. I wondered to ‘we’ was.
“You were too young,” she started again. “You were too young to know. And then…there was the incident.”
The incident. What a delicate way she had of phrasing it. I wanted to shake her. Just say it! I wanted to scream. I murdered the cat!
“…And we thought…we decided it was necessary to break the connection before we told you.”
Again, I wanted to know who ‘we’ was. But I felt like laughing.
“Twenty years?” I scoffed. “It took you twenty years to break the connection and tell me? That’s a long time.”
Mother pursed her lips but said nothing.
“Break the connection,” I muttered when she said no more. Something like fury scorched my veins. “Break the connection! Did it never occur to you that perhaps I needed her? That perhaps didn’t want the connection broken?”
I spat out the word in bitter mockery, the sight of seeing my mother flinch lifting me in vulgar triumph.
“She wasn’t real, Anna.”
“She was real to me! She was my friend!”
“She made you kill our cat, Annabel!”
It took me a moment to realize that I was standing up, my palms slapped down on the table. Her words processed slowly, almost painfully, through my mind. She’d finally said it.
She – Katie – made me kill the cat.
I killed the cat.
I felt dirty.
Sitting down slowly, I stared at my trembling hands. “She was my friend,” I whispered. “I was lonely. She was my only friend.”
Mother reached across the table and touched my shaking hands. “She was not your sister, Anna,” she said gently. “She was a cruel figment of your imagination to fill the void Kathryn had left. She was not the sister you knew before birth.”
“She was as good as,” I murmured. “She was…I could talk to her.. Tell her things I’d never told anyone.” I shot my mother a glare strong enough to curdle milk. “And you took all of that away.”
Mother pulled back her hand.
“You shouldn’t have broken it!” I snapped.
She looked shocked. “There was nothing else –”
“Oh yeah? Well, maybe if you hadn’t I wouldn’t be the psychopath I am now!”
Mother stared at me silently, and I knew what she was thinking: you were a psychopath anyway!
The door opened. “Mrs Kostova?” came the kind voice of Nurse Mason.. “I’m afraid visiting hours are over. I’ll have to ask you to leave now.”
With a final glance – and an expression I couldn’t place – mother gathered the cassette player, tapes and paper and left the room.
The door clicked shut behind her, the gentle scrape of the lock echoing throughout the white room which was my home.
I was frozen for a while, wondering what I should be doing. I jumped from the chair and away from the table, angrily pacing the small vicinity. My reflection taunted me, forever copying me, out the corner of my eye.
Kathryn Kostova.
My twin.
My identical twin.
I hated her for leaving me.
I walked over to myself, to the one-way glass panel – a mirror on my side – and stared at the other Me. I pressed my hand against the surface, and felt not the smooth chill I ought to have but rather warmth – the soft fleshy palm of my sister.
“Why?” I whispered. “Why did you leave me?”

I never left you.

Her lips curved into a comforting smile. I rested my forehead against my sister’s. Her breath fogged up the barrier between us.

I’m here.

Her voice washed over me like the mist I hadn’t felt for twenty years.
Home.
“Katie,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

It’s all right, Anna.

I’m here.

I’ll always be here.