I Want to Forget (I Can't Bear to Forget)

“Tanwyn!” Rhapsody shrieks the moment I step through the door.

I wince and try to walk past my sister. She grabs my wrist, staring at me. In particular, my hair. My newly dyed hair. “What… why… Tanwyn!” she screams, her voice shrill. I pull my hand away and run it awkwardly through the newly reddish-orange locks of my hair, wincing. “You just destroyed your hair!” she wails. “You paid people to kill your hair!” I turn away. She grabs my wrist. “Explain, now!”

“I…,” I whisper.

“You what? Explain yourself!” she demands.

“I… I…” The words are there, lodged in my throat, but they won’t come out.

“You what? Spit it out!”

“I see him in the mirror!” I snap, tears already rising in my eyes. Rhapsody steps back, her hand falling away from my wrist. “Every time I look in the mirror, I keep thinking it’s him there!” Rhapsody is blinking back tears. I feel a slight pang of guilt, but I push it away. I turn and go up the stairs to my room. Rhapsody doesn’t try to follow me. I hear her talking to someone on the phone, and the front door closes shortly after. She probably went to get Sorrell. I go into my room.

My room. Not our room. Mine.

I stumble towards the mirror. I look at the mirror, into the mirror. At first I only see me. Me, with shadows under my eyes and nothing in my eyes and reddish-orange hair. Then it blurs, and I see him, staring back at me. His black hair stained with blood, his eyes missing from their sockets, his neck decorated with a bloody smile. His face cut from the corners of his mouth to his ears in a sick smile.

“Stop,” I whisper. I force my gaze away.

I close my eyes, and there’s nothing, only darkness. I open them again, and it’s me again, me in the mirror, not him. I breathe a sigh of relief, and turn away from the mirror.

I freeze.

The walls are covered in blood. Bloody handprints paint the white walls, handprints of a doomed soul searching for something to grasp onto, something to hold onto. I whirl around, and suddenly I’m not in my room―I’m in that room again. I stumble backwards, closing my eyes, but I still see it, painted in sickeningly vivid detail, the wooden walls stained with dried blood, the metallic smell of blood filling my nose. The sound of screams filling the room.

“Rhapsody!” I scream, collapsing, but I know she can’t hear me, no one can hear me because I’m alone, all alone.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

We’re walking together, down the street, just the two of us. School’s out for the year, and we’re heading to high school in the fall. We’re alone, and the streets are empty. All is still on the streets of our town.

Suddenly, a silver car pulls up to us. A man wearing a mask steps out. He’s holding a gun. “Get in the car,” he growls. We’re frozen. We should run, we try to run, but our muscles don’t obey our brain. We can’t move, we’re frozen in place. “Now,” he snaps. “Or else I’ll shoot both of you. If either of you try to run, I’ll shoot you and your brother.” My brother looks at me, fear in his eyes. He gets in the car. I follow him.

Once we’re in the car, the man holds out his hand. “Phones,” he demands. We hand over our phones wordlessly. He tosses them out the window. I hear the faint click of the doors locking. He starts to drive. We sit, silent, terrified, like little puppies about to be scolded. My brother grasps my hand.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispers. “I’ll figure something out, I promise.” I nod.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

I can dimly tell that I’m screaming, screaming in some far away world. Where’s Rhapsody, I want Rhapsody, I want my sister.

No. I want him. I want Dylan, I want my brother. I want him, I need him, he’s not here.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

He stops at an old barn. He opens our door. There’s a long rope in his hands. He ties my wrists to Dylan’s, and holds the end in his hand like a leash. We’re his pets, we’re under his control.

He drags us into the barn, past two huddled figures on the floor, into a room. I stare around the room in terror. The wooden walls are covered in blood, the floor is covered in blood. There are restraints attached to the wall, placed so that a person would be held with their back to the wall and their arms and legs outstretched in an X. There are two of the full body restraint sets. I glance at my brother. His gaze is fixed on a door in the opposite side of the room. Bloody handprints adorn the doorway, the last struggle of a person who knows they’re going to die.

“Who’s first?” the man says softly, his voice inviting. He takes his mask off. His eyes are a grayish blue. He smiles at me. “You, pet? I wonder what your screams will sound like…,” he muses. “High pitched like the last one? Or low pitched like the one before. Or maybe silent until you bite through your tongue like the first.”

“Stop,” my brother whispers. The man turns towards him.

“What?” he says, his voice soft and deadly.

“Stop,” Dylan repeats, louder. “I’ll go.” His voice is shaking.

“Good boy. You’re the older one, aren’t you?” he purrs.

“Yes,” Dylan says, his voice hushed. The man drags us to a large nail in the floor, and he ties me to it with the attached rope. He unties Dylan and cuffs him into the restraints. He takes a knife off the rack next to the restraints.

“Where should we start,” he murmurs. “Your pretty face?” He traces his cheek lightly with the knife, not breaking the skin. He drags the knife down. “Pretty neck?” He traces Dylan’s neck with the knife. “Or elsewhere?” He smiles. “I think we’ll start with your arms.”

I close my eyes and try to block out his screams.

When the man is done with Dylan, he walks towards me. I stare at him, terrified, with tears blurring my vision and staining my cheeks. “Aw, pretty baby boy,” he says patronizingly. “Don’t cry, it’s alright.” He reaches out a hand to wipe my tears. I try to move away from him, and he just grins.

When he’s done with me, he ties us both to a nail in the room with the two huddled figures. They stir when he enters the room. He leaves after making sure we’re securely tied.

“You’re new,” a soft voice says. I turn towards the sound. Two girls are tied to a nail a few feet away. Both have brown hair and dark eyes.

“Twins,” one of them says softly. Both are bruised and bleeding. The one who spoke is less injured than the other. “I’m Sorrell,” the less injured one says. She’s sporting a black eye.

“Viola,” the other says. One of her eyes is closed. Blood runs over it from a cut above her eyebrow. There’s a deep cut on her cheek. Sorrell is tied to Viola, who’s tied to the nail.

“We’re doomed, aren’t we?” I whisper. There’s no response.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

“Dylan!” I scream. “Dylan, where are you, come back, help me, please!”

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

After a week that feels like an eternity, he ties us again. He turns to tie Sorrell and Viola’s rope. Dylan’s gaze falls on an object in the man’s pocket. His hand darts out and pulls it out in one swift movement. The man doesn’t notice, and Dylan quickly grasps my hand as the man turns to leave.

“Goodbye, my pretty pets,” he purrs. He leaves, and Dylan lets go of my hand.

He flicks open a pocket knife and starts sawing away at my ropes frantically. When he finishes with mine, he starts cutting at his own rope. After a short eternity he looks at me briefly. There’s a trace of hope in his eyes, something I haven’t seen in so long.

He turns towards Sorrell and starts cutting her rope as well. I can hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba dum. Sorrell’s rope comes loose and he starts cutting at the rope attaching Viola to the nail. They make eye contact. Dylan frowns, but nods. Viola smiles. Viola looks at Sorrell. There’s hope in her eyes, tinged with… sadness?

“Run,” Viola says softly. “Run for your life, and don’t look back.” Sorrell nods.

“We’re going to be free, Viola. We’ll be able to see the sun and our friends and a bed and real food,” Sorrell whispers.

“Tell Mom and Dad I love them,” Viola says quietly.  “I-In case anything happens. I love you, Rell.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” SorrelI says, her voice shaking. She pauses before whispering, “I love you too.”

Dylan turns to look at me, still sawing at Viola’s rope. “If anything happens, promise me you’ll run. Promise you’ll run, and you won’t look back,” Dylan says as Viola’s rope is done. I hesitate. “Promise me. Please.” I nod. “Good. I love you, Wyn.”

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

I don’t want to remember, don’t make me remember, please don’t make me remember.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the door open. Viola jumps up and runs towards him, the knife in her hand. Sorrell lets out a wail as Viola plunges the knife into the man’s shoulder. He lets out a roar. Dylan bolts up and gives me a light shove. I run after him, as fast as I can. Sorrell is a few steps behind me, and Dylan’s a few behind me. Viola has moved the man into the room, freeing the doorway. We run through, and I hear a scream of pain from behind us.

“Run, Sorrell! Run!” Viola screams. Sorrell lets out a strangled cry. She stumbles, I pull her along. A gun goes off behind us.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

I cry out, clawing at my ears. “Stop!” I shriek. “Stop, shut up, I don’t want to remember, don’t make me remember!”

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

Dylan screams and collapses, clutching his leg. “Dylan!” I cry, stopping. Sorrell keeps running.

“Run!” he shouts, shoving at me. “Don’t stop, keep running!” I hesitate. “Run!” I turn and run after Sorrell, tears blurring my vision.

“I love you, Wynnie,” Dylan calls. I keep running.

My feet want to stop, my heart wants to stop, but I can’t, I need to run, I can’t look back, I can’t stop.

I hear a scream. I want to turn around, but I can’t. I can only keep running. The gun goes off again, and a bullet flies past my ear. I hear his roar of rage and frustration. I catch up to Sorrell, and we keep running, running away from our siblings, our twins, our souls. Leaving them doomed.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

I’m still screaming, screaming through my tears, screaming through the pain in my throat, the pain in my heart. I faintly hear the door open, and warm arms embrace me.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re okay now,” a voice murmurs.

“No!” I shriek. “No, it’s not okay, he’s not okay!” Sorrell’s freezes

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

Sorrell and I collapse when we get to a town. We’re sobbing, crying out, pleading for someone to help them, for someone to save them.

“Please, someone help her!” Sorrell cries. “She needs help, she’ll die in there if you don’t go there now!” People are staring, walking away from us. Why aren’t they helping, why aren’t they getting help?

“Help him!” I scream. “You can’t let him die! You selfish monsters, help him!”

They rush past us.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

“Tanwyn, please, calm down!” Sorrell begs. “Please, stop trying to remember!”

“I’m not!” I sob. “I’m not, make it stop, I don’t want to remember!”

“Yes, you do!”

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

I beg the police officers to show me the pictures of him. I can’t bear to look at his body, I have to look at him. I have to know what that monster did. Rhapsody quietly entreats the police officers to show me. She’ll give me this, at least.

I grab the photos. He’s covered in bruises, covered in blood. He’s naked, but you can barely see his skin through all the blood. Cuts all over his body, limbs jutting out at odd angles. His eyes are gouged out of his sockets, leaving empty holes where his brown eyes would gleam with life. The most shocking of all, the most horrible of all, are the deep cuts from the ends of his mouth to his ears. A Glasgow smile, the police officer says in a quiet voice.

How could someone do this, create such a mockery of the brother I knew and loved, still love? How could someone remove the eyes that I would stare into, would look into to know I was okay, I was safe, I wasn’t alone? How could someone create such a mockery of a smile, a thing of happiness? Not death, not pain, not loneliness.

That wasn’t him in the pictures. That was nothing but a shell, a shadow, that monster’s creation, twisted into what he wanted. Maybe that’s why he only targeted twins, why he let us go. It didn’t matter if he got caught. We’d forever be scarred, forever marked by what he did to our other half, the other half of our souls, our hearts, the other half of us.

✿ ✿ ❀ ✿ ✿

“Tanwyn, please,” Sorrell cries. “You can’t do this to yourself every day. You can’t keep torturing yourself. Why do you keep trying to remember?”

I’ve stopped screaming, I’m sobbing, trying to get the words out.

“I can’t forget his face,” I choke out. “I keep thinking that one day I’ll look in the mirror and see him, but all I see is that monster’s work! I need to see him, I have to see him!” Sorrell is sobbing too, her body trembling.

“You won’t see him!” she says through her sobs. “He’s gone, they’re gone!”

“I know!” I shout. She flinches and stares at me, wide-eyed and afraid. I lower my voice. “I know,” I whisper. “How could I not?” The memory is fading away. My sobs slowly quiet. Eventually, Sorrell is holding me as I stare at the wall, numb to the world.

“You know, I smashed all the mirrors in our house,” Sorrell says quietly. “Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw her. I saw her as she was. And it’s awful because it makes me remember who she was, what she won’t be, what she can’t be, because she’s dead.”

“At least you got to say you love her,” I say bitterly. “I didn’t tell him I love him. I didn’t tell him, and now he’s gone, and I won’t ever get to say it! I won’t get to tell him I’m sorry because he’s dead!” Sorrell flinches. Knowing they’re dead doesn’t make the truth any better.

“I never imagined this,” Sorrell whispers. “I could never imagine a world without her. Never. Even in my worst nightmares, my worst fears, I was always with her. I would be watching her suffer, but at least she was with me. Somehow I never even contemplated a world without her. Never.” I don’t respond for a long time. A long silence stretches between us.

“He’s fading,” I whisper. “If I try to picture his face, it’s blurred. I can’t remember his smile, the sparkle, the life in his eyes. I can’t remember his laugh. I can’t remember the exact sound of his voice. All I see is him with those horrid empty sockets. I see him with that sick smile. And his screams… I’ll remember that for the rest of my life” Sorrell sighs.

“Would it be worse to remember or not to remember?” she asks softly. “To not remember that any of this happened, to wake up and not know that you ever had a twin, a best friend, another half of your soul?”

“I wish I could forget it all,” I murmur. “Forget he existed, forget everything, forget that all of this happened. Anything would be better than this pain.”

“To forget the good times too?” she asks, her voice pained.

“It would be better to forget he ever existed than to remember the him that he was and remember that he won’t ever be that him again,” I say bitterly.

She shakes her head. “You don’t mean that. I know you don’t.”

“I do. I do, I really do.”

Author's Note

Trigger warning for some violence/torture