From an Angel to a Demon

A pair of twins who are best friends and perhaps even too close to one another start to drift apart as they go through puberty. One twin wants to move forward in life, but the other is not yet ready.

At 8:17 AM on November 14, 2001, Annabelle Sage O’Riley entered the world. At 8:26 AM, just nine minutes later, Eleanor Rose O’Riley followed, already set on revenge. That was the first time I left you behind, Ellie, and it would not be the last. It was never my fault I was born first, but I would have chosen it, had I the chance. I did not want to be held back and lost to the world, I wanted to go forth and explore. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want you by my side.

 

I am writing this to you, Ellie, from your beloved sister Annie. You know me as well as yourself; we are like left and right gloves - identical, but different. I know you don’t need an explanation, an apology, or an accusation. The same thoughts rest in your heart. Still, I am bogged down by all the devastation of my past, so I am releasing it here, now.

We knew early on that we were made of each other and we never questioned it. Mom says from the time we started walking, we were inseparable. We spoke late, but you and I never needed speech, did we? We both knew that we had to stick together to survive. People called us “uncanny” and “amazing” because of the way we often moved and acted in synchrony. We just never knew any different.

Teachers called us shy and said we did not engage. We were never shy, though, we just never saw a need for the outside world. We had each other.

As we grew older, I began to resent you. You were always there, always being the other me. You had my face, you had my voice, you had my thoughts, you had my family. I hated that and I dreamed of being an only child, though I knew I would not be complete without you. You resented me for being first. I did better in school, I spoke up more often, people noticed me more. You didn’t want me to become different; you wanted me to melt back into you.

As young children, we got in fights. I remember slamming your head against the wall over and over again until you got your hands around my neck and squeezed to make me pass out. You made me bleed, but you were the one to clean it up and comfort me, too. I loved no one more than you, and that remains true even today.

Becoming a teenager was hard for both of us. It meant developing feelings and skills and interests that the other did not share. If I thought of making a friend, you would glance at me and warn me away from the new girl in class. We had to stay together. I understood that, but I wanted more. Still, I did the same to you when you tried to choose another lab partner. We were jealous of each other. It was all or nothing, both of us or neither.

Some nights I stayed awake to suffer your nightmares so you could sleep soundly. You tried to make up for it in other ways, but I never minded. I would lie awake and imagine what it would be like without you. Can life be a simultaneous tragedy and miracle? I guess that is what it ended up as anyway.

When our bodies began to change, you wanted to emphasize your curves and pad your bras. You were eager to become a woman. But when you saw my reluctance to grow, you hated puberty. We should have just stayed the same.

I felt wrong in a woman's body. I hated wearing dresses and avoided make up. I looked at female models and marveled at their perfect bodies. Perfect, but not for me. I wished I had been born a boy. It wouldn’t have change anything between us, but I know you were glad for our identical bodies. You wanted us to look the same.

We never wore skirts, for me, but we dressed in feminine clothes, for you. I could feel your reined-in heat and sexuality. I released it by running. You hated it, I knew, but I made us start running with the track team because it made me feel free. Still, you never allowed me to reach my potential. I rested when you needed it.

We were locked in a deadly marriage from birth, and there was nothing either of us could do about it.

 

The real divide started after I met Rosie. I'm not sure if you hated her more because she had your middle name or because I met her without you.

You fell sick with the flu when we were supposed to go back to school after winter break and try as I might, I could not catch it too. Mom sent me to school without you and I attended our first class of beginning painting.

Rosie Newton was a sophomore, a year younger than us, and she had inky black skin and pink-rimmed glasses. I was immediately attracted to her. She had moved here directly from Sudan a year ago, so she wasn't just black, she was African, exotic. She spoke in clipped tones that I found beautiful. I made sure we sat next to each other and every chance we got, we talked.

She asked to touch my red hair, which was in two braids that day. We told each other we thought the other was beautiful. It was completely platonic at the time, but I never mentioned you.

When you were well enough to attend school again, Rosie was shocked to see me walk into class twice. You and I sat down next to each other, like we used to, but you noticed something was wrong when my head turned to Rosie. She was staring openly and I gave an apologetic shrug. I felt too ashamed to do anything more. You said nothing but I could feel your anger boiling up in you, and I snapped at you at lunch. At home, we scrambled into our room, shut the door, and you demanded an explanation. I had none. I had wanted to keep Rosie to myself and I did not know why.

 

You tried to keep me from befriending Rosie, but I talked to her the next day. She laughed off what she called "a misunderstanding". You tried being mean to her, but I just defended her and that tore us apart even more. Then, you tried to get on Rosie's good side. She forgave you and accepted you as a friend, but I was always her favorite and what was worse - she could always tell us apart.

It was a sleepover when I had my first kiss. We were all in our pajamas, giggling and playing truth or dare. You and I hadn't fought in weeks. On your turn, you chose Rosie. It was a mistake, and you knew it. But Lucas was there and he had been making eyes at Rosie all night, so you pushed for it. "I dare you to kiss someone in this circle, Rosie." Everyone cheered her on and her cheeks turned red. She hesitated a long moment.

Then, suddenly, so I had no time to react, she kissed me. She stayed longer than she should have for a dare and I didn't mind. The room was silent when we pulled apart. You stood up and walked out.

Rosie looked distressed, but she whispered, "Go ahead." I left her to face the other kids alone. For the first time, I considered choosing someone else, but I didn’t. I left her for you, Ellie.

 

That night was the start of a new era. You pulled me closer, needed me more, than ever before. You turned suicidal, but not from depression, from resentment. You taunted me with the fact that you could control my attention.

I had to be there by your side or you would try to take a bottle of pills or pull out the kitchen knife. I knew you would never do it, but I could not take the risk. If I was not your salvation, you would be my downfall.

So I spent less time with Rosie. I focused my attention on you, even in class. You were so needy, and I was your other half. I could not abandon you.

Rosie could not understand why I was pulling away. She tried to follow us in our social retreat, but we shut her out. She tried to help, but we ignored her. Even I knew that no one would ever understand. Even if I was an angel and you were my own personal demon, I was forever pulled towards you.

 

You got away one night, while I was taking a shower. My hair wet and a towel wrapped around me, I came into our room and was greeted by an absence. I quickly dressed and donned a coat. I knew where you were going like it was a psychic sense. Really, we just knew each other well. Too well.

I found you where I expected to, on the bridge. You stood on the railing, as if you might jump. I saw you smile when I approached and I started to cry.

We were locked together, spiraling inward, and there was only one way out. "Annie?" you said. I usually had words for you, but not tonight. Not anymore.

I came up behind you and stared at your turned head. You looked so tortured, like you knew what was coming. Maybe you did. "Ellie," I said, in a feeble goodbye, and I pushed. We parted in silence.

 

Your death was taken as a suicide. No one knew that I was a witness. No one knew that I had forced your suicide. A whole world of secrets and responsibility had become my own. I did what I had to, Annie, as you did. I miss you as a part of myself, torn from life too soon. But I am free.