“Do you know what I did that night when I got hit by the car?” I ask, enfolding my fingers tightly around the key. “Do you know what happened before all of that? How I escaped the hospital… why I was there?”

I know as much as you. You’re mind is my mind. If you don’t want to remember then neither do I.

I feel my legs carrying me to the mirror on their own accord. “But I don’t know anything.” I study myself in the mirror, imagining myself as blond like the detective said, imagining myself as someone else. “Other than these pieces that don’t make any sense.”

You don’t know anything because you chose to forget. Everything you do, you chose to do.

She’s right. If I was a better person, then I’d simply go talk to someone—go to Preston and confess what’s going on. Tell him about Sydney. Bella. These horrifying memories and how I think I might be a killer. But I know I won’t. I’m not sure if that makes me a bad person, for carrying those thoughts inside me, not speaking about them because I worry what they mean. Maybe if I’d spoken up sooner, lives could have been spared. Maybe Sydney would still be alive.

“Maybe,” Lily says. “But maybe not.”

Maddie

“Bartender Bella Anderfells Missing, Foul Play Suspected.” This is the headline on the news the morning after I find the birth certificates and key. There aren’t too many details only that she was seen over a week ago on March 15th, on the day Sydney died. I don’t know how to process this information, but every time I shut my eyes I end up back at her place, surrounded by blood and no body.

As I’m struggling with whether I should be guilty or not, whether I killed her or not, I decide it’s time to confront my mother about the birth certificate, convincing myself that maybe if I get more answers, then somehow the mystery will be solved. Although in the back of my mind, I think part of me secretly wishes to stay in the dark. What I don’t know can’t hurt me. If I’m a killer and I don’t know it, then everything’s still okay, right?

Wrong. But it’s what I tell myself to keep moving and breathing.

I opt for a surprise attack, and catch my mother one day while she’s eating a sandwich at the kitchen table. I simply walk into the kitchen and set the birth certificate down on the table in front of her.

She immediately drops her sandwich and her jaw drops as she stares at. “Where did you get that?”

“I think you know where I got it.” I pull out a chair and take a seat across from her. “The spot where you were hiding it.”

She shakes her head, staring at the piece of paper. Finally she reaches out to touch it, her fingers trembling, but she quickly pulls back. “Maddie, you need to forget you ever saw this,” she says, her gaze drifting up to me.

I cross my arms on the top of the table. “No. I’ve forgot enough during my lifetime. This is it for me.”

She presses her lips together so forcefully that they start to turn blue around the edges. “It was your sister’s.” Her voice is so soft, delicate, fragile.

“My sister’s?” I act surprised, but I’m not. I had my suspicions. Still… “Why didn’t you tell me about her before?”

She swallows hard, her hand clasps around the bottom of her neck as if she’s trying to strangle herself. “Because the memory of her will only cause you pain.”

“Try me.” My tone is firm, demanding.

She shakes her head over and over again, tears dotting her eyes. “It’s better if you don’t remember her.”

I grip the edge of the table, needing to hold onto something because I feel like I’m about to tumble into darkness, but I don’t know why. “It’s my decision whether I remember her or not and right now I’ve decided that I want to remember her. Now tell me. Where is she?”

It takes her an eternity to answer. Cars drive by from outside, the wind blows, my mother battles to breathe evenly. “She died.”

All noises fade away. “When?” My voice cracks.

A single tear falls from her eye. “A long time ago.”

“But why didn’t you ever tell me about her?”

“Because she’s better forgotten.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I press my hands to the side of my face, struggling for oxygen. I keep thinking about the girl in my memories, the one with blond hair that told me to cut her wrist. She said she was Lily and I thought she was my Lily, but maybe she was my sister. But in the pictures… I look so much like her. Long blond hair and the scar was there, so it had to be me. “What the hell is going on?” The room is spinning, tumbling out of control. Or maybe it’s just me. “Nothing makes sense.”

“Maddie, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” She slides her arm across the table to take my hand. “It’s better if you can’t remember painful things like this. It’s the bright side of your amnesia.”

My hands drop to the table and I suck in a large mouthful of air. “Brightside? Are you fucking kidding me?” I jump out of the chair so abruptly it topples to the floor. “There is no brightside to this.” I give an exaggerated gesture at myself. “Everyday I feel like I’m losing my mind and you just add to that.”

“I wanted to protect you,” she says, slowly getting to her feet. “From the pain of having a sister.”

“Pain of having a sister. Are you fucking crazy?” I grasp at my head. This isn’t how a conversation should go. She should be talking about the pain of losing a sister. I lower my hand to the side. “What happened to me mother? In my past? With Lily? Were we locked up once?” I pause. “Did you lock us up?” As soon as I say it, I know it’s not true.

“How dare you.” Her entire body is quivering, not with fear but with rage. She grips onto the back of the chair for support. “I would never do anything to hurt you or your sister.”

“I don’t believe you,” I say and I partially mean it. I don’t know my mother enough to know whether she would hurt me or not. All I know is that in my past I’ve been hurt by someone.

“How can you ever say that?” she says. “I would never, ever do anything but protect you. Even if it means causing pain to myself.”

The last part is a little strange. Why would protecting me cause pain to herself? “What do you mean by that exactly?”

She shakes her head, releasing the table, and squaring her shoulders. “I’m not talking about this anymore. There was a reason I never talked about it.”

“Because it caused you pain?”

“Enough,” she snaps harshly. “No more of this. I’m done.”

And with that, she runs out of the room and I’m left unsure what to believe. Who to trust.

You can always trust me.

Maddie

I’m moving out of the house. I haven’t told my mom yet, but I can’t do it anymore. Crazy or not, being cooped up in the house with her lies, locks, and alarms is making my situation worse. I’ll get my own place. Go to work and spend the rest of the time by myself, trying to piece together my past, who I was, why I was locked up, and what happened to my sister. That I can do—I’m better at being alone anyway. Although I’m never really alone. I always have Lily. Part of me wonders if maybe I created her out of my sister. Perhaps when I lost my sister Lily, my Lily arose. But the idea is kind of frightening, because my Lily is frightening, which makes me wonder what my sister was like.

Over the next couple of days, I start looking for places to live and a new job, one that will satisfy my darker cravings, one where I can start over, and get some help from someone who isn’t my mother. I’m looking through the classifieds in the newspaper, trying to ignore the best that I can the picture of Bella on page nine, when my phone rings. River’s name flashes on the screen and I freeze. He never calls me, not outside of work, which makes me wonder why he is now. I think I know and even though part of me doesn’t want to know, the other part has to know, whether I need to be worried or not.