Photo by Elīna Arāja
Griffin squinted his eyes against the blinding light in the room. A high-pitched squeal almost split his head into two. He cupped his temples, trying to see where the sound came from. Then it was muted.
Several voices spoke rapidly in the room and blurry figures moved around but he couldn't make out a face, except one.
A strange girl.
Dressed in a flowing dirty-white gown, her feet bare, dirty and cracked, she slowly edged close to him. Her almond, brown eyes were gleaming in triumph as her smile widened. Her hair should be jet-black but it was grey and unkempt, like an old person in a girl's body.
She looked familiar—like family—but something was unsettling about her and he couldn't recall. His head hurt as he tried to.
Her gaze was mesmerising as he watched her draw close to his bed. The tiny, black dot beside her nose stood out against her flawless, pale face. His instinct poked him that the dot was important but his memories deserted him.
"Good boy," she murmured. "When these people are gone, you'll hold your breath until I tell you not to or else…" She paused with a sinister grin.
"Doctor, what do you suggest we do?" A firm voice in the room asked. It was a familiar and safe one.
Griffin peered at the person speaking and smiled with relief. It was his mother, worries etched on her slightly wrinkled face. He felt sad upon realising he was in a hospital. This was all his fault. He should have spoken up sooner.
"We'll keep him under observation for another 48 hours. Thereafter, we'll conduct some tests. Everything's going to be alright," the tall man in a white lab coat said, placing a reassuring hand on his mother's shoulder.
The strange girl chuckled beside him. It seemed he was the only one who could see her.
"Why, the good doctor is optimistic," she whispered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I can't let you take my place in this family. You and I know you are a lost cause, yes?" She arched a brow.
Griffin tried to speak but couldn't. He shook his head.
"Hey, sweety. You are awake. Why do you shake your head?" His mother asked, pulling a chair close to his bed and sitting in it. She covered his hand with hers. The strange girl had disappeared.
His mother caressed his cheek. "You scared us, honey. Why did you go into the pool without supervision?"
Then he remembered.
"Anna made me do it," he said, his voice hoarse. His mother paused, staring at him in shock.
"What do you mean? Anna was with me in the kitchen and together, we found you in the pool. She pulled you out."
"I was playing by the pool when she came and told me to jump in—". The high-pitched squeal again made Griffin squeeze his eyes shut from the pain that sliced through his head. The strange girl was beside him again, scowling, the tiny, black dot beside her nose seemed to be pulsating.
"You have said enough! One more word and I'll throw you back in the cold pool," she threatened.
"Griffin?" His mother touched his cheek gently. He shifted his head away from her reach, surprising her. He was trembling badly.
Anna with the tiny, black dot was mean. He didn't want her to hurt his mother or any of his new family. So he kept mute.
When the doctor and nurses came in to examine him, his mother stepped out. They prodded every part of his body and took down notes. The strange Anna stood and watched.
As they left, his mother walked in with his sister, A—no! Not Anna! She looked like the strange Anna but her face was flawless without the tiny black dot.
"Hey you," she said before hugging him. Her eyes were beautiful and gentle...unlike the other one's eyes.
Griffin cried out and wriggled. His sister stepped away from him in shock. His mother drew close. "My boy, what is it? Talk to me."
"It's Anna," he stuttered. "She made me jump in the pool." The strange girl hissed in warning, gritting her decayed teeth.
"What?" Anna visibly blanched from the accusation.
The mother glanced between her two children. "What are you talking about? Anna's your sister."
The strange girl wouldn't stop hissing like she was afraid of something. Griffin noticed she trembled and was slowly fading. His instinct urged him to keep spilling.
"Mom, she-she looks like Anna but has a tiny, black dot right here," Griffin said, touching the side of his nose.
"Oh no." His mother exclaimed, her eyes pooling with tears. "Listen to me," she said, gripping his shoulders. "That's not Anna. I'm sorry we didn't tell you this sooner. We wanted you to feel at home with us before telling you our family history. The person you saw is Joyce, Anna's identical twin. The dot was a birthmark that helped me tell them apart. She drowned many years ago. Do you understand?"
Eleven-year-old Griffin stared at his mother for a long moment as the puzzle pieces fell into place. He was adopted six months ago and yet to be fully acquainted with their history.
"She's not real?" He whispered.
"No. She's not," his mother replied firmly.
He was trying to wrap his head around the new information when a screeching sound from Joyce distracted him. She was floating and fading away, her frail hands stretched out, trying to hold onto anything and her cry, a mournful one.
Griffin let his mother embrace him. His nightmares were over. All it took was a little truth to dispel the darkness. He smiled as Anna, his sister, wrapped her arms around them in a group hug.