“no feelings,
no memories, just
the feeling of
oblivion.”

The photograph I got in the mail wasn't mine--the one that was still stuffed inside my trench coat. Which meant that I now had two exact copies of the same photograph. A photograph that wasn't even supposed to be with me in the first place.

It belonged to Alastair. And according to Mr. Smith, Alastair didn't even know that it belonged to him.

It confused me when I took out the photograph Mr. Smith had given me, when Alas and I had been visiting his parent's graves, and placed it beside the photograph that I just got in the mail.

Why would someone mail it to me?

You didn't tell him.

What was that even supposed to mean?

Was it Mr. Smith who sent this to me? But how in the fucking hell did he know where I lived?

I got the answer to that when I checked the old, brown envelope again, reading the address on it. There was no sender's address, which left me just as clueless as before. But what surprised me was the recipient's address.

And it wasn't mine.

The address where this envelope was to be mailed at wasn't Luce's apartment. Rather it was an address that I faintly recognised. When I typed it on the web, numerous pictures popped up of the town of Knightsridge. More particularly, this envelope was supposed to be mailed to the Hawthorne mansion.

Then why was it here, towns away?

It couldn't be a coincidence, I thought. This was too specific to be a coincidence.

The next day, I went over to the small reception area near the apartment's entrance and asked the guard sitting there if he saw anyone coming in and dropping that specific brown envelope in Luce's mailbox. The guard told me that it must've been the mailman. Which honestly did me no good.

How in the hell did the mailman bring this to Luce's mail when it wasn't even addressed to be brought here?

I even asked Rowan, just to make sure it had been Luce's mail box he got the envelope from.

"Yeah." He looked at me funnily as I helped him push down the book trolley, both of us walking across the numerous tall shelves of the Great Library. "It was your sister's mailbox. Where else do you think I would have taken it from?"

I told him it wasn't addressed to me. I even showed him the empty brown envelope (I had safely placed the photograph and the cassette back in one of my drawers where I hoped Luce wouldn't go near).

"That's odd." He frowned, taking the envelope from my hands and checking the printed address on it.

"It is." My eyes widened. "I don't...I don't understand how it was mailed here instead of Knightsridge."

"Seems like you've got a poltergeist on you." He joked, flipping the envelope. "I read somewhere that poltergeists could do stuff like that."

"I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case." I didn't, however, really mean it though. Even if Luce's apartment was haunted, which I sometimes believed that it was, it still didn't explain this.

Rowan was examining the envelope almost a little cautiously. And then in an instant, the frown vanished from his face.

"Is that blood?" He asked.

That, obviously, wasn't a response I was expecting from him. It alerted me nonetheless when I followed his gaze and looked at the back corner of the envelope, which was caked with something that looked exactly like dried blood.

"It could just be mud." I whispered in shock.

He looked up at me, looking just as puzzled. "I...hope so."

Just to be safe, however, I took the envelope back home and stuffed it deep within my suitcase. If that was blood by any chance, I had no idea whose it was. And I wasn't exactly looking forward to finding it out either.

When another day passed by, I started growing a little agitated, not being able to keep that envelope and its contents out of my head.

That afternoon when Luce was gone for her hospital shift, I took out the photograph and the cassette tape, inspecting them both.

The cassette was pretty normal, like the ones Rowan had along with that Walkman of his (he showed me). The white tag on it, where Rowan usually wrote his playlist names, was empty. I, unfortunately, didn't have a cassette player. And I didn't think Luce had one either.

The only option was the Walkman. And the only one I knew about was with Alastair.

That's exactly why I stuffed the cassette tape in one of my coat pockets, texted Alastair that I was going to stop by his place for something, and got ready to leave.

I took one of those photographs too.

Because I had a feeling deep down that I might need it.

******

Alastair's house was huge.

And I wasn't talking about the Hawthorne mansion. I was talking about his aunt's house. It was a mansion of its own. I was left a little in awe by the time one of the housemaids (she introduced herself to me as the au pair of the house) walked me across the beautiful courtyard and the patio until we reached the front doors.

I hadn't ever been here before, so it took me a little by surprise when the guards didn't even bother sparing me another glance when I stated my first name. Perhaps it had something to do with Alas, and not his aunt.

I was stunned by the sheer elegance of the structure in front of me as I stood there, ringing the doorbell. I think it was going to rain, judging by the way clouds had gathered up in the bright morning sky. The nice au pair lady had left me moments before, not even caring if I was someone not to be trusted. Which was honestly something I wouldn't do.

But then again, not everyone had trust issues like me.

"It's about to rain." Was the first thing I told Alastair when he opened the door, greeting me with his extremely disheveled appearance.

"I suppose so." He replied, passing me a tired grin, which somehow looked a little too tired as his eyes raked over the stormy sky.

"And you don't like it when it rains." He stated, raising his brows. "Why are you so excited then?"

It warmed my heart like every other time when I noticed how easy it was for him to remember such tiny details about me.

Grinning, I attacked him with a hug, making him stumble back a little in surprise.

"I wasn't excited about the rain, doofus." I said. "I was excited to see you."

He responded by wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. "You just called me doofus."

"I did." I laughed.

"No one has ever called me doofus before." He sounded like he was smiling, pressing his lips softly against my hair. "And you smell like lemons."

I could only grin into his shirt.

"Why is everything always so yellow with you?"

I rolled my eyes half heartedly. "I cannot believe you're asking me this."

He pulled away just a little before pressing his lips softly against my own. I placed my hands on either side of his face, to pull him closer, parting my lips just a little, but he pulled away first, smiling down at me cheekily.

"Enlighten me then." He said with that teasing glint in his eyes.

I exhaled shakily, licking my lips. He always put me in that stupid trance-like state whenever he kissed me. And it always took me a while to get back out of it. I think he knew that too.

"It's my favorite color." I blinked up at him, my hands falling down to his shoulders.

His eyes brightened into that same teasing glimmer. "Right. I'm not surprised." And then he was kissing me for much longer this time.

It started drizzling then and we had to move past the door, into the house. I honestly didn't even realize I was still standing at the front door. I couldn't find it in myself to care about it, not until I pulled away from his kisses.

"I needed the Walkman for a little moment." I told him as he walked me into the house, across the marbled hallways. It was more of a lively home, I realized, than the Hawthorne mansion back in Knightsridge. Smaller than that, but much more warm and snug from the inside.

I didn't even seem to mind the glass staircase, which would have irked me on any other occasion, especially when I spotted the large crackling fireplace right then. I loved fireplaces.

"And here I thought you were here because of me." Alastair said, taking my hand as he pulled me up the stairs.

"That too." I smiled.

Alastair took me to a bedroom, a bedroom that looked exactly similar to his dorm room, except that nothing was untidy in here. And the view from the tall glass windows, it was a view I'd give everything to have in my room too.

"It's in that drawer." He told me, nudging his head at the nightstand beside the large, king sized bed. "I'll go and get you some hot chocolate in the meantime. You're freezing."

Only my hands were freezing, which happened quite often. Poor circulation. But I suppose he still wasn't quite over the whole incident of me falling through the ice and going all hypothermic. I wasn't either. I still found myself shuddering a little whenever I went near water.

I don't even want to imagine how Mum's reaction would have been if she found out. Luckily, both Luce and I decided that this was going to be one thing Mum would have to miss out on.

"I'm fine, Alas." I told him.

He tugged me closer by my hand and leaned down to place a soft kiss near my cheekbone, his lips seeming to linger there for a while, almost as if he did not want to pull away. Not right now.

"I know." He whispered.

When he left, and when I was over the giddy rush of adrenaline that I got whenever he kissed me, I walked over towards his nightstand and pulled open the drawer. There wasn't just the Walkman in there, but a few stacked cassette tapes too.

I smiled and sat down on his bed, rifling through them. All of them had labels written on them, unlike the empty one I had in my pocket. I slowly read through them all.

For when i'm sad.

For when i'm happy.

For when you can't sleep. This one I remembered from back at the sanitarium. And this wasn't his handwriting, I realized. It was mine. I remembered scribbling it in when I had been about to give it to him, after he had that panic attack. And he still had this with him.

The last one, however, made me smile a little sadly.

For when i miss Ophelia.

I was a little tempted to slide it in the Walkman and listen to whatever he had added in that cassette. But I didn't do that. Because I didn't like the thought of him missing me. I didn't like the thought of us not being close.

So instead, I took out the cassette from my pocket and slid it inside the Walkman, taking the headset as I pushed the start button.

And then I froze when it started playing.

The sweet melody that I sometimes found a little hard to get out of my head. The soft piano notes Alas had played on that piano, the one inside that library we came across in the Hawthorne mansion. It was that exact same melody. The one that somehow always found its way back to me.

It was so beautiful, I realised as I listened to it. And sad too, like every other time I had listened to it.

I looked down at the photograph that I had also pulled out alongside the cassette from my pocket. I looked down at the happy family in it. I looked down at Alastair and how incredibly happy he looked. He looked happy and carefree and so at peace, like there was nothing in the world that could hurt him or anyone around him.

I softly trailed my thumb along the scribbled name at the corner, a name that I didn't really recognise. All I could make out in it was a C. And a H for Hawthorne, I assumed. They were initials of someone, someone who had this photograph all along.

That's when I knew what I had to do.

Something I should have done the moment I got this photograph.

******

"Where's your aunt?" I asked Alastair in a low mumble, leaning back against his chest, letting his arms engulf me whole from behind.

"Some business meeting. Don't really know. Or care." He replied, softly playing with a strand of my hair.

"What really happens in them?" I asked him quietly, my fingers gently tracing his other hand, my head too full of that one thought that was causing the fidgeting in the first place. "Business meetings."

It was eerily quiet in the house. It seemed like we were the only ones here, but I'm pretty sure I saw a woman in the large kitchens downstairs. And the gardeners too. And then there were those guards and that one nice au pair who had been there with me outside.

It was raining heavily by the time we had finished our hot chocolates and now I could almost feel the pattering raindrops syncing along with my heartbeat as I looked around Alastair's room, trying to calm down my thoughts.

Perhaps this really was the right time to tell him about that photograph.

"They discuss the latest partnerships. Checking the company stats and everything." He murmured into my hair, still playing with few of my dark brown strands.

"That sounds quite boring."

"It is." He was smiling.

"So..." I trailed off. "How did your day go?"

He seemed to take his time before speaking.

"It was...good." He murmured but I noticed the little hesitation in his voice. Before I could've asked him about it though, he added, "It was boring actually. Nothing to keep my mind off of you."

I tried keeping the stupid smile away from my face.

"How do you keep off your boredom?" I asked him curiously, my eyes trailing towards the large glass windows in front of me, across the bed we were on right now.

I further leaned back against him when I felt his hand, which had been encircled around my waist, lower down towards the hem of my sweater. "I think about music. And you."

"That sounds boring too." I whispered. "Not the music part. Music's interesting."

"I can assure you that you're very interesting too." He murmured against my neck, placing a soft kiss there. I shivered a little when his fingers softly trailed inside my sweater, caressing the small exposed skin of my stomach. "You're my favorite thing."

"I'm a thing now?"

"My most favorite thing." He replied, and I felt his smile when his lips grazed my neck. I laughed softly and he pulled me further into him. "I love you."

I tried swallowing down the strange emotion I felt at that moment. It felt a little too overwhelming, even more so when I said nothing in response to him. I wish I had then. I wish I had said something in response to him.

All of a sudden, the glass windows flew open and a gust of wind blew inside along with the rain. Alastair didn't bother getting up to close them back. I didn't either at first. There was something comforting about rainy nights and the smell of it. Of course I didn't like when it rained, but I didn't quite hate the sight either.

"Your room's gonna get all wet." I mumbled quietly.

"Doesn't matter."

I shivered a little before pulling away from him.

"It's getting cold." I said, then crawled out of his warm bed and trudged towards the windows, letting the wind sweep along my face. It was cold, but it felt nice too. A kind of nice that calmed me down a little, that told me it was all going to be fine in the end.

I looked up at the moon, at the way it shone through the dark night sky, looking so bright even amidst the stormy clouds.

"Do you think it's easy to forget some things of your life?" I didn't realize I was speaking until I blurted out the words, surprising myself.

Then I turned around and faced him, my back against the still-opened windows.

Alastair's eyes lazily swept past the opened windows, probably surprised that I hadn't yet closed them, before settling on me.

"If you've got a bad memory," He said, seeming confused. "Then I guess so."

"No. Not like that." I shook my head, frowning a little, not really sure how to say it.

"Forgetting things...I mean..." I trailed off when I noticed that he was listening closely. "Forgetting your childhood."

He blinked in response. "What do you mean?"

I opened my mouth to explain it a little more but closed it shut right after. I wanted to take out that picture, show it to him, but I was suddenly starting to get a little scared. I didn't know what would happen when I showed it to him. What if it didn't go as it went in my head?

"Nothing." I blurted out. "It's...nothing."

And then I mentally cursed at myself, at my absolute stupidity and cowardice. This was beginning to go exactly like it had when I visited Alastair that night, at the swimming pool in his college. It had not gone well that time. It might not even go well this time either.

"What is it?" He was frowning a little now.

"Nothing." I repeated, shaking my head. The back of my sweater felt damp by now, probably because of the rain and the opened windows. I turned around and clutched the window ledge, looking outside at the vast backyard. It was dark and empty. I could feel my heart racing.

"Ophelia," I heard Alastair behind me. I faced him again, a bit hesitatingly, and noticed that he had made his way towards me from the bed, standing just a foot away from me. "What is it?"

What is it. What is it. What is it.

"It's nothing important." I tried.

His frown deepened and I realized that it might not work.

"No, I can see that it is," He said. "Tell me."

And I knew there was no going back now.

I swallowed uneasily, my eyes darting across his face. "Do you...do you think you forgot?"

A beat of silence went by.

"Forgot what?"

I ran my tongue over my lips and they weren't the only ones that felt dry. My whole mouth felt dry. My throat too.

"Your...childhood." I cleared my throat when my voice fell to a whisper.

I didn't even dare to flicker my eyes away from his face, even when I was dreading to see his reaction. His reaction however, was pretty simple. It was blank.

"Why would you say that?" He asked, his eyes fixing my own with a strangely blank stare, a one out of pure disbelief. I hated that. I hated this.

"Because..." I trailed off, looking away finally. I wiped my sweaty palms along my jeans. "What if you have? Did you...did you never think about that?"

His eyebrows raised a little. I couldn't really pinpoint the expression on his face. Surprised? Angry? Confused? I hated this. I hated wanting to figure out what was going on in someone's head. I always hated it, but it was never this way with him.

"Why would I ever think about that?" He questioned in this calm, steady voice that somehow increased the anxiousness inside me.

Maybe I was just overthinking this. Maybe it wouldn't go as bad as I had thought.

I fell silent, because I just didn't know what to say in response to that question. I looked down at my hands and they felt cold.

"You had a sibling." I said.

He didn't say anything in response to that. When I looked up at him, he was frowning now.

"You had--"

He cut me off, "I don't know what you're on about right now, Ophelia." He shook his head. "But...just drop it, okay? I thought you came here to spend some time together, not for this. Whatever you think this is."

I felt my heart thudding in my chest, slowly and painfully.

"I'm serious, Alas." I whispered.

He shook his head. "I don't think you are."

He didn't know what I was talking about. Had Mr. Smith been right?

I stuffed my hand inside my pocket and took out the only thing that might make him believe me. I was pretty sure it would be taking things down too. I wasn't ready for that, but I wasn't going to back down either, not now.

"Look at this." I told him, giving him the folded picture.

His gaze trailed down to my extended hand and I saw his hesitation as he took it, unfolding it slowly, his eyes raking across the picture that was somehow carved in my head so deeply, that I could picture without even needing to see it.

His brows furrowed at first, his jaw clenching. I opened my mouth to say something but his gaze rooted me to my spot. There was anger, all right.

"What the fuck is this?"

I opened my mouth in surprise, even though I had been expecting this. But then again, expectation and reality were two whole different things.

"It's...it's your family." I kept my voice soft, staring at him all the while.

I saw his eyes darkening a little, almost like those stormy black clouds outside.

"Why would you say that?" It was just a whisper, a confused and angry whisper. I could hear my heart beating, louder than the pattering rain outside.

"Alas--"

"No, why the fuck would you say that?" He asked, a lot more loudly this time.

I almost, almost flinched.

"Alas, I'm not lying." I tried, almost pleading. I didn't want this. I had been dreading this and I didn't want it.

"I don't care about that." He shook his head, frustrated. "I need you to tell me where you got this from."

I blinked in surprise, noticing the sudden edge in his voice. It made me feel small and scared and like I was about to lose the only thing I had.

Swallowing uneasily, I pressed my back against the window ledge, trying to avoid his heated gaze.

"When we went to visit your parent's graves. That old man, Mr. Smith, gave this to me. He...wanted me to show this to you." I said, slowly and carefully.

"What?" The disbelief and anger in his voice made me look up at him again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't...I didn't know." My voice dropped down to a scared whisper. "I tried telling you but I...couldn't." 

And I was selfish, I wanted to add. I was so selfish and mean for all of my own reasons. I shouldn't have hid this from him. It shouldn't have taken me this long.

His eyes widened a little and then he was stepping back, running both of his hands through his hair, the picture falling down from his grasp. It felt like my heart was slowly squeezing itself.

"This doesn't make sense." I heard him whispering to himself. "This doesn't bloody make any sense!"

"Alas--"

"No. Just...just stop. Please!" He shouted and my eyes widened, my mouth falling shut. I was making this worse. "What's wrong with you? Why would you...why, Ophelia?"

Why. Why. Why.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, horrified.

"Sorry for what?" He shouted and I flinched this time.

"I want to help, Alas." I forced out the words, stepping a little towards him. What was worse, however, was when he stepped away from me. The look of pure agony and frustration and fear was what made me stop dead in my tracks, wide-eyed and so scared myself.

"You think showing me such things would help?" He demanded, his hand raking through his hair again, the other one curling into a fist.

"Don't say that."

"What the fuck do you think that is supposed to mean?" He asked, his frantic gaze directed at me, almost looking like he wanted me to tell him that this was just a joke, that this wasn't real.

I shook my head and slowly wrapped my arms around myself.

"You have a twin." I told him. Maybe I was making it worse for him. Didn't I always do that?

I saw his panicked gaze. I saw the dread in his eyes.

"And you don't remember that, Alastair." I added on, taking a tentative step towards him. "That's what this is supposed to mean. I tried believing this was fake, I spent days trying to find out how it could be fake, but it isn't. You...you're supposed to know that, but you don't remember."

"Stop it. Please." He shook his head and my stomach twisted into a horrible knot when I heard the strain his voice carried. It strangely felt hard to breathe.

"The visions, Alas. The ones you told me about, those flashes." I pressed on. "You see yourself in them."

He looked horrified now. I wanted to hug him, touch him, tell him that it was all right, even when we both knew that it wasn't.

"I...I don't." His voice had lowered down to a scared whisper.

"It's not you." I shook my head. "I don't think you saw yourself in them."

It was your twin, I wanted to say. But the look on his face told me that he figured that part out just fine.

There was just silence after that. Slow, dreadful silence.

"Fuck." I saw him turning away from me, dragging his hands roughly through his hair. I saw them trembling a bit. And then he was muttering words in distinct Irish, scared, angry words.

I took another step towards him, my heart lurching in my chest. I hated seeing him like this. I hated seeing him so torn apart. I hated to know that I was the one who caused this. And just that realization made me feel horrible. It felt painful. I don't know why, but it did, and I wanted to make it stop for him.

"Don't." He spoke up before I could have taken another step towards him. The icy tone in his voice was what made me stop.

"Just leave. Take that with you." He said, probably referring to the photograph lying on the floor. "Just leave me alone."

I opened my mouth, feeling the lump growing heavily in my throat.

"Alas..." I'm pretty sure he could've heard the hurt in my voice too. And the fact that he didn't care at that moment, it broke me a little.

He didn't say anything.

I blinked back the tears in my eyes and closed my mouth shut, my eyes trailing towards the door. I decided to leave then, even if I knew this was the worst time for me to leave him. He needed someone. He needed me.

But maybe he didn't. Maybe I had already ruined it enough for him to not need me anymore.

"I just want the best for you, Alas." I whispered.

He didn't say anything.

So I left.

******

I momentarily forgot that it was raining outside until I made my way out of Alastair's house, holding back tears and the utmost frustration I felt at that moment. I wanted to scream at first, but I figured the guards wouldn't take that nicely if I started screaming in the middle of the Hawthorne's backyard.

I just horribly wished things could have turned out a bit differently.

As I neared the tall front gates, where most of the guards were, I nearly slammed into someone else. Narrowly missing, I stumbled backwards and stared up at Alastair's aunt. Iris Hawthorne.

Just what I needed right now.

"I'm so sorry." I blurted out, not really surprised since that seemed to be on the tip of my tongue right now.

She stared me down with her familiar stony gaze and the little flicker of disgust in her eyes didn't go unnoticed by me. I was already on the verge of tears and this was honestly not what I needed right now.

"Sorry." I said again, which was merely a tiny whisper this time. "I...was just leaving."

And then I passed her a small polite smile, hoping that she mistook my teary vision with the rain, which I was now drenched in--unlike her with the black umbrella shielding her.

Then I started making my way around her. She stopped me though, before I could've moved.

"Where is Alastair?" She asked, her gaze curiously drawn to me. I then noticed another guy behind her, one of the guards.

I sniffled, surprised that she seemed to be talking to me in the first place.

"He...he's in his room." I said.

"And you're leaving when it is raining so heavily?" She asked, frowning a bit. Even her frown seemed downright perfect. "Alastair let you leave just like that?"

I didn't say anything. I didn't think I could have opened my mouth without letting a sob leave my lips.

"He seems to enjoy your company." She added in further. "I may not be close with my son but I do know how rare it is that he enjoys anyone's company."

My son.

My anger was pretty justified at that. I think.

"He would be if you'd have been more truthful with him." I nearly hissed out, clenching my fists when more tears clouded over my vision.

The surprise on her face was evident. "Excuse me?"

It would have bad consequences, I realised, if I shouted at her outside her own house. Luce had warned me multiple times never to mess with the Hawthornes. Besides, I didn't even know if any of this was Iris's fault. I didn't know anything about Alastair's family and why he didn't remember his own twin.

That, however, didn't stop me at that moment. Because I was angry at myself, and I was dreading the thought of Alastair pushing me away after all that had happened in his room. I was scared of letting him go. And that scared, fearful look in his eyes--he didn't deserve any of this. He deserved nothing but happiness. And I may just have taken that away from him.

"Stuff that you've been hiding from him." I was speaking way before I could have stopped myself. "Stuff that he should know. I'm pretty sure you know what I'm talking about."

Her mouth slightly parted in surprise. She didn't say anything.

"He doesn't...deserve this, you know." I whispered, hearing my voice breaking a little. "He didn't deserve any of this."