Page 142 of Their Little Ghost

“We don’t have years. We have one night!” Dad blasts. “There’s no going back now. This will work. It has to.”

Doctor Warner opens his mouth to argue, then fear crosses his face, and he nods in reluctant resignation. He might disagree, but my father scares him too much to stand his ground. Fucking coward!

“If we increase the voltage, we will have a better chance, but the results could be unpredictable,” Doctor Warner says. “We can’t guarantee they’ll be permanent. From my research, the procedure will bury her real memories deep inside her subconscious. However, for all we know, one small event could trigger their return?—”

“Yes, yes,” Dad says dismissively in his pompous ‘I know best’ voice. “And she’ll need to continue taking the medication. We know that works.”

“Are you certain you want to proceed, Doctor Acacia?” Doctor Warner asks. “Do you really want to risk losing them both?”

Dad strokes my cheek with a tenderness he’s never shown me before. Thank fuck. He’s finally coming to his senses.

“It’s okay, Erin,” he coos, making me recoil. “I’ll bring you back.” His eyes darken, and his lips twist into a maniacal smile as he turns to Doctor Warner. “Do it.”

The machine powers on.

A blinding light fills my vision, and I fade away…

Back in the present, I cry out and squeeze my eyes shut. My hands fly to my temples. It’s too much…

“Sarah?” Aiden squeezes my shoulders. “Do you remember?”

“Y-yes,” I stammer. “I mean, I think so. But I’m not the same, Aiden. I’m not me anymore, and I’m not Erin either. Who am I?”

The pain comes again. I crumple, falling into Aiden’s embrace and succumbing to the memories…

“Erin?”

I wake in my bed, surrounded by cuddly plushies.

“Dad?” I rub my eyes as he draws back the curtains. “What time is it? I thought you were away for the weekend at a conference.”

He tilts his head, looking at me with a strange expression. Do I have something stuck to my face? I sniff my hair. It smells weird, ammonia-like almost. Nothing a shower won’t fix, though.

“I got back early,” he says. “Have you heard from your sister?”

I check my phone. No messages. That’s not unusual, though. Sarah never tells me where she’s going. For once, I can’t remember her sneaking out, either.

“No,” I reply. “Why?”

“Sarah didn’t come home last night,” he says. “Did you see her?”

I shake my head. “No.”

His stare bores into me. “Where were you last night?”

“Here,” I say. “I watched a movie, then studied, like every other night.”

“Very good.” He smiles. “I’m sure Sarah will turn up soon enough.”

I nod in dazed agreement. It wouldn’t be the first time she stopped at a friend’s house without telling us. Although, something feels different this time. Call it twin instinct, but I can’t shake a lingering dread settling in my stomach.

A vague recollection comes to me from out of nowhere.

A phone call.

Did I speak to Sarah last night?

I should call Dad back into the room and tell him, but my gut tells me to stay quiet.