My Brother's Keeper

I have this memory that replays in my head. I’m about nine years old, sitting in front of a mirror, playing with my dolls. When my mother would ask me what I was doing, I would tell her I was playing with my friend. She would sit next to me on the floor and ask me who my friend was. I would say to her it was the little girl in the mirror. As time has passed, the memory seems inverted, as if I were the little girl on the other side of the mirror. We play together often, and while she moves freely within the looking glass, our conversations are always one-sided.

Almost nine years later, I’m lying on my bed when I hear a whisper in my ear.

I shoot up to a sitting position and look around my room. Instinctively, my eyes lock with the mirror, and my reflection winks at me. In fear, I scurry to the other side of the bed, away from the small mirror on the top of the filing cabinet.

“Dad!” I screech.

My head is swimming, and my mother is screaming again. I don’t want another episode; I don’t need another death.

Will you stop and listen for one second?

The whisper is more intense, and my hands fly to my ears. I had taken my medicine and done everything I was supposed to.

Is my mother trying to speak to me beyond the grave? No! That’s not possible. There is no torso, and there is no girl in the mirror.

You did this to yourself! The whisper screams as my body move unwillingly, hauling me to my feet and over to the mirror.

Look at me!

I involuntarily grab the mirror and pull it close to my face.

“Isn’t this better, sister?” my reflection asks.

“Sister?” I stammer.

My heart is pounding, my hands are shaking, and I do not know what is happening. This whole new world inside my head was spinning out of proportion. I was going insane.

Whatever has a hold of me, let’s go, but I’m too frightened to drop the mirror and run.

“Yes, you and I share a mother and father, so we must be sisters. Though, I am the better of the two,” she says, a little snotty.

“What makes you better?” I squeak.

“I’m the one with magic.” She winks at me, and I groan.

“Was that you who attacked Preston?” I close my eyes and question my sanity again.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Of course it was. You aren’t strong enough to get out of the easiest of situations. You are without.”

“Without what?” I question her.

“Without magic, silly. I can do things you can’t, which is why you need me. You know, as protection from bullies like Preston Stuart.”

The girl in the mirror looks just like me. Her voice sounds just like mine, but her smile is off.

“Magic?” I groan. If I had to hear one more story about me being a witch, I would commit myself to Eider willingly.

“Of course, silly. You should know by now that Mom is the Big Bad. It was my magic that killed her.” My mirror sister smiled brightly. Again, her entire demeanor was off.

“Why did you kill her?” I ask next, unsure if it’s even something she’ll tell me. I followed along with the conversation, trying not to overthink it.

“We needed to open the portal,” she answers.

It isn’t exactly what I want to hear, but I’m also standing in my room, holding a mirror at arm’s length, talking to myself. I’ve already gone off the deep end. I might as well ask the question.

“Why?” I’m already tired of hearing about portals and royalty. “What is so important that I have to help you? Or anyone?”

“Talk to Lenny. He will set the record straight. I don’t feel bad for killing mom. She was weak, and we were strong. Well, I am.” She beams.

“You’re full of yourself,” I mumble.

“Did I mention you open the portal, and we can separate?” She raises an eyebrow.

“If we open the portal, you will leave me to live my life here, and you can do whatever you want there?” I mimic her sadistic expression.

She rolls her eyes. “You would be better if you stuck with me, but sure, if you want to live in this boring place.”

I hear his footsteps before he enters my room. Tossing the mirror face down onto the bed, I turned to look at Pax.

“Who are you talking to?” He yawns.

“Nobody,” I reply quickly.

Liar.

Lenny’s execution was scheduled for the day before my eighteenth birthday. This means I have a short time to find the answers to unlock the mysterious girl in my head. I had heard the name my father called when he saw me, but I couldn’t remember it. Besides, it’s not like she was forthcoming with it when she took over my body.

I wasn’t comprehending how it wasn’t me who killed our mother. If she used my body to do the deed, I would be stuck with the clean-up. Why should I trust her?

Thursday is my first day of suspension, and I get to spend it finding out who I am. Most of the kids in my school are aware of who they are, but many are of a different age to know their histories. I’m still not grasping all the things my father tried to explain.

“I called my lawyer to see if they would allow you some sit-down time with Lenny before his execution. I will promise nothing. The people from your mother’s realm are like you and me here. Magic doesn’t work. Well, not how it works there,” Dad says as we eat lunch.

We were the only ones in the house. Karen was off doing whatever made her happy. It was a pleasant change from the night before when I saw her true colors.

We sat at the table in the small kitchen, looking out over the dead grass in the backyard.

“How does it work here?” I question.

My sister—it is so odd to say—told me she could use magic, but if her magic doesn’t work outside, how could she do the things she did in the mirror? Was she in another universe reaching out to me through the mirror? None of it makes a damn bit of sense. How could I be crazy, but everyone else gets a free pass because they aren’t from our realm?

“It’s practical,” he replies with a shrug. “Honestly, I didn’t know about the lake and the witch and the portal until I got the call that you were my daughter. Before unleashing an onslaught of magical oppression onto me, Odette Sloan was all Karen needed to hear.”

“Karen really is royal?” I tilt my head to the right and shrug my shoulders.

“Yeah, not the royal, but part of the family.” He looks down at his hands.

Does he think this is as crazy as it sounds? I still had not told him about the girl in the mirror.

“What can you tell me about after my mother’s murder?” I ask slowly.

“The hospital said you attacked other patients after the lights went out.” He stumbles over his words. I can see the wheels spinning in his head, looking for the right words to soften whatever blow he thinks he’s giving me.

“What do you mean, attacked?”

In my defense, they had it coming. They should have known better than to push you down when you were doing crafts.

Dad stares back. “You mauled them in their sleep.”

“Oh, my goodness! Why do you allow me around, Pax?” I exclaim. “I’m volatile. I could hurt him at any moment.”

It isn’t an act. I’m concerned about my brother.

You aren’t the only one who cares about our brother. I would do nothing to hurt him.

I’m not sure I can believe her. She had been dormant for years, and as far as I knew. She was just a figment of my imagination. One that had been sitting silently in the back of my mind, waiting for a moment to remind me I was not normal. The more I thought about my sister, the more enraged I became. I would not be where I was if she had not bewitched Lenny.

“Can you just shut up!” I scream, knocking the plate from the table and throwing my hands to my ears.

I was no longer having a one-on-one conversations with my father. I had a third-wheel eavesdropper trying to make sense of every word he said. I don’t believe most of what’s being told to me. It feels like a trap as if they’re trying to force me into a crazy state so they can get rid of me for good.

I had never heard voices before the hospital; I know that for sure. I may have had weird dreams and done strange things, but I was not a violent child. When I tried to stand up for someone, I got my ass handed to me. The few times I came out on top, the school punished me because I defended myself. There’s simply no way I’d openly attack anyone without being provoked.

My father puts his fork down and stands. I know he’s concerned. My entire meal was on the linoleum floor, mixed with bits of broken porcelain.

“Odette.” My father’s hands are around me in seconds, holding me in place.

He does not know what is going on inside my head. He didn’t know that my sister was tormenting me. How could he? He thought he had seen her the night before, so he had called me by her name.

“Make it stop!” I cry.

I’m not sure what made me think I could handle learning what was happening. The thought was it wasn’t real, but then she spoke to me, and it didn’t feel like I could accept what was being said.

You have to accept this, Odette. You and I are up against a lot. You need me, and I need you as much as I hate to say it.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” my father says, holding me close.

I can see his half-eaten burrito on his plate, and I know he’s only pretending to be hungry so he can steal away a few moments with me. He meant well with everything he was trying to do, but my instability made it hard to trust the stories.

“I don’t want this to be real,” I mumble.

For the first time in a long time, my mother’s torso isn’t taunting me. She lets me have my pain and frustration. I’m allowed to have a moment with my father, a connection I have longed to experience.

The next day, my father received a call that would change my life. I had ignored the voice in my head each time she tried to reach out. I avoided the mirror and spent more time staring at the ceiling. I’m concerned about Pax, but my issues overwhelm me. I know I can’t be there for him if locked inside an episode. I’m also not sure how I feel about the other person inside me. Can she be trusted? She said she would never hurt him, but even I know people tend to lie.

“Odette?” My dad peeks his head into my room.

I had spent the afternoon on my bed, staring at the carpet. When you spend years inside a mental ward, you learn to entertain yourself with the smallest items. In my case, the carpet is one of the many interesting luxuries in my father’s household.

“Yeah.” I roll onto my back and sit up.

He grabs my face and twists it from left to right. I know my eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep, and I haven’t touched the meds on my filing cabinet.

“Have you slept?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nope, not risking another attempt to harm Preston.”

Oh my god! I can let you have one night of sleep. All you have to do is ask.

She keeps talking, but I choose to ignore every word she says. It gives me a sense of sanity.

“You better get your sleep if you want to sit down with Lenny.” He lets my face go and takes a seat next to me.

“Are they seriously going to allow this?” My heartbeat instantly picks up, and the butterflies circle inside my stomach. I am overjoyed to sit down with my mother’s murderer, or I should say, the murderer’s accomplice.

I haven’t seen Lenny since the police officers arrested him. Yes, my therapist and I had quite a few conversations about him, but nothing more than anyone else knew. I have so many questions; this is my one shot at learning why he helped my sister kill my mother. I also want to know why I was forced to live with this trauma following her death.

“Yes. If it makes you feel better, you can lie down on my office couch. You can sleep while I work. That way, you know you won’t sleepwalk, and Preston will be just fine.” Dad grabs my hand and squeezes it.

I know he cares about me. He tries hard to create a connection, and I’m too afraid to allow him to get close. I love him. I want the relationship, but it means he could hurt me. I’m tired of hurting.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” I agree as we stand up from the bed.

I follow my father down the stairs to his office and lie on the couch. I’m not sure how long it is before I pass out, but I’m exhausted.

Then just as I drift off into a blissful slumber, my sleep is hijacked again.