I Burnt Your Hopes In The Sink

(This is the second installment of the My Alternates series. If you haven't already, you can read the first one here.)

They had meticulously picked out the cover of their bed, the eleven of them. Since they all lived in the same body, in the same room, with the same belongings, they had argued for days over what color, style, and texture the bedcover should take on. Phoebe had wanted to go full sunset, but Shards and Shark had wanted a thick, dark grey, and Thea and Theo, the happiness twins, as they called them, had wanted a bright colorful pattern. After much deliberation, the group of them settled on a soft grey cover with pale sunset orange undertones. It was soft and heavy, and each morning Phoebe made up those covers and smoothed out the wrinkles, a habit she had formed the last four years since she’d left her guardian’s home when she was eighteen. It made her feel a little safer, a little more comfortable, a little more at ease, and she treasured anything that made her feel like that.

Thea sat on the bed now, her legs folded underneath her. The journal felt heavy in her hands and the air blowing down from the AC chilled her skin and lifted the hairs along her arms. The little black book was filled to the brim with entries in all their different handwriting. Most were written in Phoebe’s small, loopy scrawl, some with Dalia’s gentle, circular letters, others in Dare’s harsh, sharp scratch. Shards and Shark didn’t take too well to journaling, no matter how highly it came recommended. Luciana didn’t feel the need to, and Sahar was too secretive to share any sort of thought or feeling.

Thea flipped page after page, scanning the contents one after the other, and with every word she read, her stomach twisted tighter and tighter.

Thea wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t cold or hard or cautious or reserved. She was joyful and excitable and adventurous. She believed in the best in people and the best in the world.

What these entries were saying went against everything she wanted so hard to believe in.

They went against everything she had ever known to be true.

Phoebe had told her about their past, about the things she, Dalia, Whisper, and Shark all remembered, but Thea still had trouble believing it. Her memories of their childhood were happy, filled with laughter and love. She trusted her family. She felt safe and secure with them. There was no suffering, no pain, no hesitancy. They were perfect. She was perfect.

She slammed the notebook closed.

None of this was true. It couldn’t be true. It was a lie, a mistake. It had to be.

She got to her feet, the hardwood floor chilling her bare toes. She slipped out the bedroom door and headed towards the kitchen. Winsley, their roommate, was out and they had the apartment to themselves.

The kitchen was small and cramped with shabby, peeling cabinets and a bland old white fridge. Thea reached for the plastic container on the countertop and fixed herself a slice of chocolate cake left over from Phoebe’s birthday. Then she padded back into the bedroom and settled down at the desk.

She placed a forkful of cake in her mouth as she shuffled through the drawers for a paper and pen. The sunlight flooding in through the window above the desk warmed the chill in her bones, and even though the view wasn’t optimal—the solid brick wall of the apartment complex beside theirs—Thea enjoyed the openness the window provided the small space with.

Thea’s pen flew across the paper. She had so much to say and not enough time to say it. She needed to get this done and in the mail before one of the others stopped her. She couldn’t feel anyone close, but she couldn’t take any chances. She scribbled a quick signature and grabbed an envelope. She began to write down the address to their childhood home, but at the sight of the street name, something sick rose up in her stomach. She wavered, feeling herself grow distant from the world around her. She placed her palms hard down on the desktop and shut her eyes tight, trying to hold on, but her willpower faded the more time that passed until she couldn’t stop feeling the fear swirling through her veins. She sucked in a sharp breath and Dalia opened her eyes.

The first thing Dalia saw was the address and her heart lurched and she stumbled, knocking the cake off the table and shattering the plate across the floor. She breathed in and out and in and out, but each breath got shorter and shorter. She pushed herself forward and gripped onto the doorframe, her eyes locked on the freezer across the room.

Ice. She needed ice.

She took one step and then she was on her knees.

The apartment swum away from her until all she could see were dark rooms and beige walls and hands reaching down for her. Gone was the pale orange wall paint and the deep brown sofa they’d nabbed from off the side of the street. The wooden floor underneath her hands turned into coarse carpet and the ceiling bored down on her.

“It isn’t real. It isn’t real. It isn’t real.” She pressed her palms into her temples and clenched her eyes shut.

But the repetition was only making it worse. She felt the fear like ice water in her veins. She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, couldn’t think.

She flinched at the soft knock on her apartment door.

“Phoebe?” Linnea’s voice called. “You there?”

Dalia choked on her words. She curled up in a ball on the floor and held her limbs tight to her body.

“My name is Dalia.” She whispered. “I am 17 years old. The body is 22. I work at Jeremy’s barn. I live in my own apartment. I pay my own bills. I am independent. I am free. I am safe.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I am safe. I am safe. I am safe.”

“Phoebe?” Linnea called again. “I’m coming in!”

The key turned in the lock and the door slid open. Dalia pressed her hands into her eyes. Her breathing picked up and her heart thundered in her chest.

“Phoebe? Oh god, Phoebe!” Linnea dropped to her knees beside Dalia and Dalia flinched backwards.

She couldn’t breathe. In and out, in and out, in and out. Too fast. Too slow. Taking in too much and taking in too little all at the same time. She was losing air, losing, losing, losing—

“Look at me. Look at me, please!” Linnea cried.

Dalia cracked her eyes open, lowering her hands to press against her heart. She looked up into Linnea’s bright blue eyes, alight with fear and worry.

“Hey,” Linnea smiled gently, “hey, it’s me. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay? You’re safe.”

Dalia kept her eyes locked on Linnea’s. Her lips quivered and her breaths shook, but she kept herself focused on the blue of Linnea’s eyes, light blue like a mountain stream. There was no blue in that house, no blue in his eyes. She held onto the blue, tightly like she was clutching a lifeline. She felt on the edge of a cliff and Linnea’s eyes were the only things keeping her from falling over the edge.

“Are you Phoebe?” Linnea murmured as Dalia’s breaths began to slow.

Dalia shook her head.

“Is it okay if I ask your name?”

Dalia glanced behind Linnea. She scanned over the apartment, but they were the only ones there. The door was shut, and sunlight streamed in through the windows, lighting up the dust floating in the air.

“Dalia.” She whispered.

“That’s very pretty.” Linnea said. “Phoebe told me a little about you. Do you know who I am?”

Dalia’s eyes flit back to Linnea’s, back to the blue. “You’re Phoebe’s girlfriend.” She said. “She wrote about you. Said she told you—about our DID—about our past. She said you were safe.”

Linnea’s eyes flit down and a small smile spread across her lips. “She did?”

Dalia nodded. She sat up slowly, keeping her back tight against the wall. Her gaze flit past Linnea to the desk where the letter and the envelope lay, undisturbed.

She needed to get up.

She placed her palms on the floor and began to raise herself to her feet.

Linnea’s head snapped up. “Whoa—hey—” She got up quickly. “Slow down, it’s okay.”

Dalia grit her teeth. “It’s not okay. This is not okay.”

She pushed past Linnea to the desk and gripped the back of the chair, breathing in and out heavily. The cake lay forgotten at her feet.

Dalia stared down at the envelope, at the address, the address forever ingrained in her brain. Then her eyes shifted to the letter, scanning over its contents. She bunched up the papers in her hand and yanked open the top drawer of the desk. She drew out the lighter and brought the papers to the sink. She hovered the lighter’s flame over the address in the upper righthand corner of the envelope and watched it catch aflame. Then she lit up the letter and dropped them into the sink to burn.

Linnea watched her but didn’t say a word, didn’t make any move to stop her, just watched.

Dalia didn’t move until every last piece was ash. Then she turned and crawled onto the bed, trailing her fingers over the orange in the cover.

Linnea came and sat at the end of the bed, and for a while neither of them spoke, then Dalia glanced up suddenly, her gaze on the window across the room.

“Thea doesn’t understand. Thea doesn’t know.” She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. “She’s innocent, naïve. She doesn’t realize that there are so, so many dangers out there.”

“But you do?” Linnea murmured.

Dalia opened her eyes, and the green in her irises glistened with tears. “I know all too well.”

She traced her fingers along the covers absentmindedly, oblivious to Linnea’s watchful eyes.

“He hurt us.” She breathed. “He hurt us and Thea won’t believe it.” Her jaw clenched. “She’s a fool.”

“Dalia,” Linnea’s eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true.”

Dalia’s jaw softened and her brows unfurrowed. “God, I wish I were her.”

“A part of you is.” Linnea reached across the bed and placed her hand in between them.

Dalia eyed the gesture, but she said nothing. She turned to stare at the wall, and her hand slid across the covers and touched the tips of Linnea’s fingers.

“You’re safe.” Linnea said. “Dalia, you are safe.”

Dalia inhaled a deep breath.

“I’m safe.” She whispered.

“You’re safe.” Linnea repeated.

“And it’s real?”

“Yes.” Linnea’s fingers curled around Dalia’s. She squeezed. “This is real.”

Dalia turned, her eyes finding the blue in Linnea’s.

This is real.

She was safe.

And it was real.

“Thank you.” Dalia breathed.

Linnea only smiled. “Of course.”

Their eyes turned to the window, and quietly they gazed out at the red brick wall across from the apartment, finding solace in its gentle reminder that they were here, that they were free, that they were safe.