Masquerade

by Alix Josefski


I wake up. There is a beam of sunlight sliding under the curtains, cutting my sister in two. She is asleep calmly and peacefully, her black makeup smudged so that she looks more like a raccoon than an angry punk rocker. I get out of my bed and go to hers. I stand over her for awhile, watching as she breathes the slow, deep breaths of a heavy sleep. I wonder what she's dreaming about. It crosses my mind that at one point I would have known. Years ago, we would have woken up, grinned at each other as we sat up simultaneously in our beds, and immediately known what the other had dreamt about. That was a long time ago, however.

I shower and brush my teeth as my sister sleeps. I know she won't get out of bed until I go down for breakfast. That's how it has been for a long time. We still share a room, but we no longer share a life. We are two separate people who just happen to reside together. Anyone who doesn't know us wouldn't realize that we are twins. I wish it was different. I wish we were more like your stereotypical set of twins, dressing alike and each knowing what the other is thinking. It used to be like that, when we were little. I don't really know what happened. Somehow we have grown apart. She has her friends, I have mine. Sometimes I still miss her.

As I eat my breakfast of Cheerios and banana, I continue to think about my sister. I don't know her that well anymore. She's always out with her creepy friends. They all dress in black and have piercings everywhere. Ever since she started hanging out with them, my sister has been slowly deteriorating. She drinks and does all kinds of drugs. It's not like my mother would ever notice. My mother has no time for either of us. I know that's not fair to say, but it is the truth. Since my father left us, my mother has had to work very hard in order to support our family. I appreciate all that she's done for me, but I still wish that she would spend some time with us. It makes me sad, thinking about how distant from one another my mother, sister, and I have become in recent years.

I hear a distinct thumping noise as my sister descends the stairs. She sweeps through the kitchen, shrouded in black as usual. We each grab our backpack and head for my car. She does not speak to me. She never does. As I start my car and pull out of the driveway, I sneak a glance at her. Her eyes are lined with thick black makeup, and her lips are painted dark red, the color of blood that has just begun to dry. She scares me. I know that it's irrational, but sometimes I have a fear that this girl, who looks like death itself, will creep over to my bed in the night and stab me through the heart. I tell myself that it's only my sister. This is the girl with whom I shared so many youthful games. In the back of my mind, however, is still the fear of this unknown person living in my house, in my room, in the bed directly opposite mine.

We arrive at school, and after I park the car we each get out and go our separate ways. She heads to the art wing to join up with her friends, and I go to meet my boyfriend outside the choir room. As I walk down the hall, I see him there, waiting for me. His chestnut-colored hair is perfect as always, and he is wearing a red polo shirt and jeans. I reach him and he hugs me tightly. I am reluctant to let go of him. Whenever it seems as if I am all alone in the world, his hug makes me feel safe and wanted. I wish we could hug forever. We clasp hands instead, and head for homeroom, the same routine that we've had every day for the two years that we've been going out. I like to think that this routine is one of the things which will never change. I know, however, that a year from now we will do this for the last time. Today is the last day of school. It is our junior year, and so this is the last summer we will have together. Next year we will be busy getting ready for college. I want to make this summer special.

School is uneventful. I go from class to class mechanically, just as I have done every day all year. Math, then Science, English, History...it all blends together in my mind. Since this is the last day of school, teachers are not inclined to do any work. Most of them are as eager to get out of here as we are. Soon enough, the final bell rings. I leave the school building and head for my car in the student parking lot. Finally it is summer. I am looking forward to this summer. Maybe I will be able to spend some time with my sister and get to know her again. Last year she went away to art camp, but this year my mother couldn't afford to pay for camp. We are both going to stay home all summer.

My sister meets me at the car and we both get in, neither of us looking at the other. We drive home in silence, as always. At one point I open my mouth to speak to her, but I shut it again, realizing that I have nothing to say. She stares straight ahead. I pull into the driveway and we get out of the car. I go into the living room to read. She starts down the stairs to her studio in the basement. I assume that she's in the middle of yet another dark piece of artwork. Before long my mother arrives home. She puts some pasta on the stove to cook, and when it's finished she calls us for dinner. My mother insists on our eating dinner as a family, even though we all dislike sitting together in painful silence night after night. I guess she's hoping that we may one night find something to talk about. I don't think we ever will.

I lie awake in bed, having sat through yet another quiet dinner. It is only ten o'clock, but I don't want to spend another evening sitting around the house with nothing to do. I can't seem to shut my brain off, though. I continue to rest there, sleepless, for hours. I lose track of time as my mind wanders. Eventually I fall into a dreamless slumber. Before I know it, the alarm clock goes off. I am about to drag myself out of bed when I remember that it is summer. I decide to go back to sleep, but can't seem to close my eyes again. Sighing, I get out of bed. I glance over at my sister's bed, but she is not in it. She must have slept over at one of her friends' houses. I assume she went to a party last night after I went to bed.

I go downstairs and eat my traditional breakfast of cereal. Trying to figure out what to do with my day, I decide to call my boyfriend and see what he's up to. I dial his number from memory, my fingers pushing the buttons without my even having to think about it. His smooth voice answers the phone, and he tells me apologetically that he will be busy helping his mother clean all day. I hang up the phone, disappointed, and settle into the living room couch to read a book. Loneliness takes over after several hours of reading, and I decide that I will go over to my boyfriend's house after all. Maybe I can help him clean. Anything to get out and see him. If we get the cleaning done, then maybe we can go to a movie or something.

I drive to his house and ring the doorbell. The familiar chime sounds, but no one comes to open the door. Figuring that they must be in the middle of something, I turn the doorknob and let myself in. I hear voices coming from upstairs. My feet take me up the fourteen carpeted steps that lead to his room, but when I arrive at the top I sense that something is seriously wrong. The voices suggest that two people are engaged in an act of passion, and I recognize both of them. One is my boyfriend. The other is my sister.

Rage takes hold of me, and I storm into the room. My arms fly out of their own accord. They grasp my sister's long hair and yank it so that she is dragged towards me. The hands then find their way around her neck, and they tighten. She tries to scream, but all that escapes from her constricted throat is a gurgle. For some reason this makes me hate her even more. She can't even scream properly. The boy just stands there, not knowing what to do. He knows that any action will just make things worse. He cannot stand by and allow me to murder my twin, however, and so he grabs me and tries to pull me away from her. By this point we are all three of us screaming and cursing, and one of the neighbors hears and calls the police.

When the policemen arrive, I am close to finishing her off. The boy is frantically trying to prevent me from killing her, but I have her pinned up against the wall. The door flies open, however, and the policeman calmly orders me to step away from her and put my hands in the air. I see the gun pointed at me and I do as he commands. The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur. All I can remember is my mother crying and the policeman lecturing me severely. They leave without giving me anything but a stern warning.

My mother doesn't know what to do. She thinks that no punishment could make up for my violence, and she is right. Eventually the decision is made that I will go and live with my aunt for the rest of the summer. This seems like a good idea to me. I have no desire to share a room with this evil creature who stole the one thing that I love. I pack up my belongings and drive the hundreds of miles to my aunt's house. She welcomes me warmly, but I don't feel right. No matter what is done to try and make me feel at home, I can't shake the sense that everything is askew. I try to amuse myself and take my mind off things, but it is no use. After two weeks of miserably slinking around my aunt's house, I can no longer stand it. I wait until she has left for the weekend on a visit to an ailing friend. Then I get in my car and drive home.

I enter the house silently. My mother is not home. Slowly, I climb the stairs that lead to my sister's room. My room. The room that I have inhabited for my entire life. The room where my sister and I played with dolls and had tea parties. The room where I kissed my boyfriend for the first time, giggling and wiping my face afterward, secretly praying that my mother would notice. The room where my sister first brought a little baggy of dried marijuana leaves and hid them under her mattress, begging me not to tell anybody. I remember the feeling of insecurity that came with the reassurance that I would not tell. She was using our haven as a place to house these evil drugs. After that day, I never quite felt safe spending time in that room alone. The drugs lay there, invisible, daring me to try them and breathing out toxins. I never touched them. I could see clearly enough what they had done to my twin.

She is playing loud rock music. As I stand at the top of the stairs, she notices me. A shocked look comes into her eyes, and she comes to meet me. She asks me what I'm doing home. I tell her that I'm just there for a visit, and some of the fear seems to leave her face. I notice that she is wearing a flowing black gown and a red corset. She reads the question in my face and remarks that she is on the way to a masquerade ball at the local hotel. With him. I can't believe that she continues to see him. She's not even the least bit ashamed. She flat out tells me that she is going to the dance with him. I give her a pitying look, and my arms shoot out in front of me. I catch her right in the abdomen. Her arms flail wildly, and for a moment I think she is going to regain her balance. She doesn't, though. Down she topples, her head finally coming to rest at the foot of the stairs with a loud crack.

I calmly proceed down the stairs. She is lying very still, her face contorted with fear and pain. I notice that she is not breathing. I bend down and unlace her corset. I remove it, as well as the dress she is wearing. I put it on. I go back upstairs and line my eyes with black makeup. I paint my lips the color of fresh blood and slip my sister's mask over my face. The mask that she had been planning to wear to the masquerade ball. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see that I am the spitting image of my twin sister once again. I do not see myself reflected in the glass. I see a purely evil girl who is prepared to do anything to get what she wants. Perhaps even kill. I realize that it is myself I am referring to, but this does not frighten me. I reach under her mattress, and my fingers find a little baggy of marijuana. I slip it into my pocket and leave the room.

My black cloak swirls around me as I turn the corner to go down the stairs. One foot in front of the other, I glide downwards. It seems like the staircase is endless. Whenever I think I'm at the bottom, my feet find another stair. I wonder whether I'll be trapped here forever, eternally traveling downwards. I do eventually reach the bottom, however, and I look down at the body of my sister. She appears so vulnerable, lying prostrate on the wooden floor in her underwear. Her blood has seeped into the wood, staining it dark red. I step over her and exit the house without another glance at the bleeding form lying on the floor. I get into my car and drive to the hotel where the masquerade is being held.

As I walk into the ballroom, I see countless people milling about and dancing. Everyone is masked. The air is alive with feathers and sequins and billowing fabrics. Nobody is recognizable. But then I see him. He is wearing a dark red suit and a black mask. He notices me and starts walking in my direction. He calls me by my sister's name and draws me into his arms. My mind goes back to those mornings before homeroom, when he held me this way and I felt as though everything was right with the world. As he holds me tightly, I slip the dagger between his ribs. He sinks to the floor, and his mask cannot hide the terror in his eyes. The blood seeps into his suit. It is the same color as the fabric of his jacket.

I leave him kneeling there clutching his abdomen in horror. When I reach the doorway, I turn to look at him for the last time. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment time is frozen. He stares at me, stares right through my mask and costume. He sees me for who I am. His eyes tell me that he is sorry, but it is too late for apologies. Time resumes, and costumed figures close the space between him and me. As I leave the room, I reach up to remove my mask. I tug on it, but it won't come off. Frantically, I pull on the edges. It is hopeless. The mask has become part of my face. A sense of emptiness envelops me as I walk out the door. I close my eyes and turn my masked face to the night sky.