Victoria Martin


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Everyone has a story to tell


October 7, 2019


 I reveled in the quiet of mornings. For years I made the early hours of dawn my own, a time to be alone, to exist not as a part of a whole. This feat for me was monumental,.As I am a twin my whole life has been shared. Each hour she is there, and regardless I  am connected to her. When I look in the mirror to get ready, I see her. To cope with the dependency of my being I would tip toe downstairs each morning and make tea and read. 
        Often I would wonder about my future, it’s instability and inevitability primarily. I’m graduating soon and the best idea I have to make something of my life is to write. Despite the half hearted assurances of my parents that my twin and I just have different strengths I know that they’ve given up on their dream of a highly successful professional child for me. On the other hand my twin has it all figured out,she wants to be a surgeon and do so on a full ride scholarship. She pleased them despite her best efforts, and she tried hard to push their buttons.
     So as not to get kicked out she wouldn’t blatantly say she was partying all weekend but she gave the cold shoulder, pseudo disrespect to my parents. It amazed me how she managed to be so driven yet wild at the same time. She would stumble in our house at around 1 am, managed not to get caught and ace the test she had the same day. I was amazed at this other side of her, she was still my twin so I wouldn’t snitch on her but that was really all I could stand doing. We’ve grown apart but I’m sure that she manages fine, she can take care of herself.
      It’s been a couple hours of just me sitting around reading and watching movies but slowly I realize it’s too quiet. I think I’m alone but still I check running into each room and floor of my house. No one is here. Naturally I call my parents cell and as if on cue the garage door rumbles open. My Dad walks in and I stare at him questioningly.
“ Your sisters committed.” he says without any inflection.
 “ I know she has a scholarship, a plan and a grasp on life.” I retort expecting him to lecture me.
“No she's been committed.” 
The rest of his explanation is lost as my mind runs and jumps to conclusions of her pain and its cause. Somehow I ended up in the car and in silence we drive up to some hospital in the outskirts of some suburban developments. I’m led by my father to her room, and for the first time my mind wakes up, I need to open the door. Inside my twin is a pile of bones jutting into the bear hug of my pillowy mother. Her eyes are dim in the dark circles around her eyes and she sneers at me when I walk in.  Then I see the thick straps around her wrists and I can’t. Rushing out of the room I run to find the nearest exit possible. Before I bolt outside I catch my reflection in the glass, all I see is her. How did I this happen? How did I let her drift away from me when she needed me the most? I pull my sleeves down now ashamed of their umarred finish. I look back in the reflection and see her in the background and now we’re different .
Ok so I have an in class essay tomorrow buuuttt......... I was given the topic so I sorta wrote just in case. Could you leave a review and tell me what you think?


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  • ajamwal

    wait, what happened?

    almost 2 years ago
  • Deleted User

    Awe! That's sad!

    I love the story. I will give you some constructive comments though.

    1) More imagery/figurative language would help convey how each of them seemed.

    2) Make sure to keep the indentation going. It'll help the story flow better.

    3) There are spots here and there that could use commas so that they're not run-on sentences, and or make more sense/flow.

    These are to help you out. Not to judge. I do these things sometimes to. Other than these three things, you have a lovely piece!

    almost 2 years ago