Page 19 of Cash

I felt like I had a family. I had been with Val for months. I never expected her to remember. But she did.

“We have cake for breakfast,” she began, and I gasped. She remembered everything. Val and I talked every night. I told her about my brother, and my mom. About what she did for our birthdays.

And she remembered.

It was the first birthday all about me.

Almost.

April 4th.

A day I no longer celebrated. But that’s a story for another time. Those first few birthdays without Thorne were so hard. But Val always made them extra special.

She even bought gifts for Thorne.

That was where this knife came from. She had bought it for Thorne. The tag on the box had his name on it. But she let me open it anyway.

She told me he would get a present every year. And it would be my job to keep them safe.

Until we found him.

Our birthday was coming up fast. Only a few weeks away and it was a big one.

It was our twenty-first birthday, and all I wanted was to spend this milestone with my brother.

But I still hadn’t found him. Ten years had passed since he left me to get food and never came back.

I turned the blade in my hand, watching as light reflected off the metal. I knew I shouldn’t do it, but it was the only way to let the monsters out. Let them have their way so they left me alone for a little while.

I sat on the bed, legs crossed. My hands ran over the tattoos, feeling the small scars that were hidden among the colorful ink injected into my skin. No one could see them.

But I could feel them. Sometimes it was enough to feel the scars. But then other times, like tonight, when the memories came rushing in, I needed more.

I needed to silence the voices. The ones that reminded me of everything I had lost. They never talked about the things I had gained. They were suspiciously quiet about that.

Their only goal was to torment.

Not to heal.

The pain healed.

The pain was something tangible. Something I could experience and not just feel. Something I could show to others so they understood my torment. But I never did.

They wouldn’t understand.

It wasn’t that I didn’t feel. It was that I felt too much. I had my own shit, and I had Thorne’s too. That was how I knew he was still alive.

I could feel him. I had read studies about twins who were separated. How they still felt things their sibling felt, even when they were miles apart. Even when they didn’t know where the other one was.

I didn’t know where Thorne was; could he still feel me the way I felt him? Did he feel it every time I placed the blade against my skin? Did he hear the monsters that screamed at me? Did he have his own monsters that I couldn’t hear?

Was he happy?

Without me?

I wasn’t happy, not without him. But I didn’t tell anyone that. I let them believe I was happy. Let them see the happy little Kytten. The playful Kytten. The fun Kytten.

I didn’t let them see the sad Kytten.