My sister says that Mommy killed her. Mommy says that I don’t have a sister…..
It’s a weird thing, this confusion. I want to believe my sister. She says she is my sister after all, but one would think Mommy would know if she’d had another child. I don’t know how that happens, the child thing, but I know she would know. And wouldn’t she know if she’d killed something? I know when the car hit a bird once, she knew, and she cried for a long time.
Thing is, my sister, Rebecca, looks exactly like me. Like standing in front of the full length mirror in Mommy’s bedroom and seeing myself, but in different clothes. Rebecca dresses mostly in white frilly things with ribbons and bows and stuff. I like jeans and tee-shirts, tennis shoes, cause the white wouldn’t last long outside in the mud and rain and even the dry dirt. Mommy says I’m too much the tom-boy which I don’t understand either. My name isn’t Tom and I’m not a boy but then Mommy says a lot of confusing things. Like I don’t have a sister. And nobody lives in the house but us.
Rebecca comes to play when I’m alone in my room. She likes to play with my dolls, dress them up, brush their hair, pretend to feed them and change their diapers. I say pretend cause I know it’s not real. Real babies eat and cry and poop but plastic ones don’t. She doesn’t like to play outside. She’s scared of the pond in the back. But if playing inside makes Rebecca happy, that’s okay. I like when she’s happy. She seems sad an awful lot.
When I ask her why, she says its because Mommy killed her. And if Mommy comes in, she hides. I don’t know where because I’ve never found her, but she never lets Mommy see her. Ever.
And when I ask her where she hides, she just smiles and tells me it’s a secret……