Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Identical (42 page)
Enveloped by November Fog
I walk to work. Slowly.
I see now, more than ever,
that I belong to Daddy.
My father is my keeper.
I can never escape to Ian.
Ian was only a fantasy.
Beautiful make-believe.
A movie poster to focus
on when I have to hide
out inside my own head.
By the time I reach
the old folks’ home,
I realize I have to break
things off with Ian.
Not fair to let him keep
thinking we have a future.
Not fair to me to play
this game any longer.
I go inside, drowning.
Crying, inside and out.
The First Face I See
Belongs to William. He can’t
help but notice the state I’m in.
Straightaway, he puts an arm
around my shoulder.
You okay?
I yank away from his touch,
like he’s fresh from the oven.
My muscles twitch, quiver,
begin to shake uncontrollably.
Greta, nearby, rushes to my
side, latches onto my elbow.
Come with me. No ifs, ands,
or buts about it, young lady.
Next thing I know, I’m in Greta’s
room, on her bed, tissue in hand.
I think it’s time you told me
this deep, dark secret of yours.
Oh, how wonderful it would be
to break down. Confess. “I can’t.”
This has to do with your family,
yes? Perhaps with your father?
Any hint of composure vanishes
in a tremendous hailstorm of tears.
Greta sits beside me.
I should
have told you my story before…
Her Voice Softens
Remember once, I told you I met evil
when I was very small? My Satan
was a butcher, tall, heavyset, and
the face he wore looked exactly
like mine. He was my father, and
he believed he owned me.
A gasp escapes my best effort
to hold it inside me.
Greta continues.
He would come
home from his butcher shop,
rank with blood and fat. Often
he stripped without washing,
and he would call me into his
bedroom, a calf to slaughter.
I was expected to bring a wash
basin and soap. “Cleanse me,”
he would say. “Take the stench
away.” Hands. Arms. Feet. Legs.
And by the time I reached the place
between them, he would be stiff.
And then he would tell me how
to touch him, before he laid
me on the bed and did the thing
no father should do to his child….
I cannot believe she’s telling
me this. Cannot believe this
beautiful, strong woman
ever suffered this thing.
When I met my Lars, I loved
his gentle way, loved how
he never demanded. I told you
my father found us together,
beat me because of it, and I was
afraid he would beat Lars, too.
But Lars didn’t care. He asked
me to marry him, and I so wanted
to, but could not imagine sharing
a bed with any man. Pleasure
from sex? Never! When I said no,
Lars went off to soldier.
How I regretted that decision.
Later, my father arranged
a marriage to a man no better
than he. But that is another story.
And now, if you will, I think you
should share your story with me.
Oh, How I Want To
But Daddy would kill me,
and get away with it. I can’t
ever tell, not even to someone
else who has had
sex
forced on her by her father.
What if I ask for it somehow,
maybe subconsciously? Being
brutally honest with myself, it
feels good.
How can that be? Not that
there’s any joy in it. Unlike Greta,
I want to know joyous sex.
It does exist outside of books,
doesn’t
it? I want sex laced with love,
and not warped parental
love, but the honest kind.
I want sex that makes me
feel right,
not like some freak, some inbred
monstrosity. I’m not, am I?
Damn it, I really don’t know.
Will it
one day be revealed that Mom
is actually my grandmother? OMG,
could there be even deeper secrets
that can’t be unearthed, never
ever?
IMH (not) O
In my not-so-humble opinion,
Kaeleigh definitely asks for it.
Feigned innocence invites
sex
more than a frank come-on does.
Anyway, she tries to pretend
she doesn’t like it, but it
feels good
and she knows it. Feels good
with Mick, although that particular
chapter of my life is definitely over.
Even if he has forgiven the whole
truck episode, I prefer a guy who
doesn’t
have another girlfriend spoiling
for trouble. Someone like Ty, maybe.
Sex feels great with him, too.
I guess it might be nice for sex to
feel right,
like the person you’re with
might even love you. But hey,
I’m not exactly sold on the idea
that love is, in fact, real.
Will it
find me one day, overtake
me, infiltrate my life like sunlight
snakes through the cold of morning?
Can love thaw me? Will it
ever?
I’m Not Even Sure
What love is, or just what it’s supposed to
be. They say you learn by example. But no one has
set one for me. I only love one person on this entire
planet. And he only loves Kaeleigh. My daddy loves
Kaeleigh. Ian loves Kaeleigh. And she’s incapable
of loving either of them back. What a waste.
She only loves Mom. What in
the hell is wrong with
her, anyway?
Then again, I know something about
our mother that Kaeleigh can’t quite recall, and
if she did, she’d probably dive off a very tall bridge,
into shallow water. Stop! Can’t think about that
now, or I’ll have to join Kaeleigh, jump into
ultimate freedom. I must admit I have
considered that leap from time
to time. But I’m afraid
to die loveless.
Afraid to Die Loveless
Because
I think if
you die
without
knowing
love in
this life,
that’s how
you’ll
spend
eternity.
Alone.
Frozen.
Do you
think hell
is fiery?
I don’t.
I think
hell is
frozen.
Before the Other Night
It was a while since Daddy went
to Kaeleigh, saturated with misguided
love and the overwhelming need to
own her completely. To prove
he owns her completely. Prove
it to her. Prove it to himself.
He can never own me. Maybe
that’s why he doesn’t bother me.
I can give myself to whomever
I please, in any way I damn
well choose. Key word: choose.
If I say okay, well then it is.
I wonder what will happen
to Daddy when we turn eighteen
and Kaeleigh can move away.
I wonder, codependent as she
seems to be on their sick
relationship, if she ever will.
No one will even notice when
I go. I’d leave now, but if I did,
Kaeleigh would have no one
but Ian. And sorry, but the odds
are long that he’ll hang around.
Too many easier scores.
Being Easier
Isn’t really such a bad thing.
It can get you what you want.
Yeah, yeah, I know what
they call someone who barters
her body in exchange for
something she wants. A wife!
Get it? Okay, never mind.
But it doesn’t bother me to use
the one thing I’ve got that’s
mine, all mine, to get what
I want. Drugs. Liquor. Fun.
Not like there’s a whole lot
of that where I live. More
drugs. Better drugs. Maybe
it’s time to graduate from
pot, hash, and pills to something
stronger. That opiated stuff
was great. Wonder what heroin
is like. I hear it drops you way
down, where pain can’t find you.
Any Drugs
Would be good right this moment.
Heroin. Cocaine. Maybe ecstasy.
Not too sure about psychedelics.
They say acid and ’shrooms
make you look inside your own head,
help you learn about yourself.
Sorry, not interested. I’m afraid
if I looked inside my head, I’d
find something really scary.
Maybe if I walk into town I’ll run
into some way to score. Ty never
called back. He’s probably pissed
’cause I took so long to call him.
Or maybe he found someone else,
although I doubt he fell in love and
