Her dark hair strung out wildly behind her, whipped into tangles and tinted orange from the flickering streetlamps, the only sources of light from the absent moon. The houses around her were asleep; it was in the middle of late and early, between night and morning. Their windows were dark, curtains shut, deaf to the harsh gasps tearing cold air down her throat. She had gradually slowed to a jog, unintentionally, her body beginning to shut down without her consent. The time had escaped her, the pounding drums of her heartbeat the only thing marking the seconds. She was too tired, too determined, too scared.
A kitchen knife was hanging from her waist, the result of a frantic attempt to help herself. It slapped against her thigh with each step forward and dug into the fabric of her jeans.
She rounded the corner, her shoes skidding against the asphalt with the sudden change in direction. Her breath blew out in front of her in a cloud of white smoke, condensing with the cold. It would have been beautiful if she weren’t running for her life.
The air around her was quiet, the only thing moving, the only thing alive being herself. So it made sense that she scrambled backwards as a rough hand grasped her elbow, coming up behind her, the shock of it throwing her sideways and landing her in a crouch. The tip of the knife scratched the ground, but the person either didn’t notice or didn’t care as they made no movement towards the weapon. She was an animal, rabid, desperate, staring up into a pair of bright blue eyes with her morality so drained she was almost feral.
All that disappeared when she heard the voice, clear and concerned.
"Mara, what are you doing?"
Snapping her mouth shut, her demeanor changed. She straightened up, brushing her sweaty palms against her jeans and, despite the situation, absentmindedly running quick fingers through her hair.
She knew him: light hair, bright eyes, freckles sprayed across his pale cheeks, glowing around the darkness. And although she had no problem admiring him, she didn't forget what was happening, and even he could see the fear in her eyes, his growing harder as his confusion did. "Mara, what are we doing here?"
Impulsively, irrationally, she didn't answer, but grabbed his hand and jerked him back into a sprint, him almost unwilling. He didn’t notice the blade.
She almost wanted to just ignore everything else and just pretend like he was running with her, they were running together just to run. They were, but not in the way she wanted or needed, and not in this moment.
Too soon and not soon enough, they came upon a little shop, a local place she could recall applying for a job to more than once. She knew, as it had been in business since she was a child and had a family very close to the owners, that it stayed open very late, the employees looking after it long hours. This was proven by the silvery light pouring from the cozy windows and the ringing of the little bell out front as a head of long brown hair protruded from a crack in the door. Mara bit her lip, thanking whatever god there might be for her luck. She sped towards the door, escaping, gripping Darell’s hand as firmly as she felt the confidence in herself will them forward. He became hesitant, though, and she could feel his uncertainty as she, resentfully but quickly, let go of his hand. The lights were abruptly cut off just as a jangle of keys emanated from the door, and her eyes had just adapted to the change as the person at the door of the shop, a woman, turned around, her brown eyes startled as she took in the couple running.
She blinked quickly, leaning in to get a better look as recognition spread across her pretty face. “Mara? What are you-”
But Mara didn’t let her finish, pulling out the knife tucked under her belt and lunging forward with it, grasping the girl at her shoulder and pushing the knife up.
Everything got slower then. The girls mouth opened into an “O”, a silent scream, as a shaky whimper escaped her lips and she put her arms around Mara’s shoulders for support. Darell was saying something in the back, yelling, but it was distant and blurry compared to the crystal focus Mara kept on the girl. Her eyes began to float up, eyelashes fluttering, and Mara’s stomach turned. She was even dying in the most beautiful way. Her eyes lost their luster and her face became more peaceful as she let go of Mara completely, the thin woman falling back into her arms as she stilled.
Under her breath, to herself, she whispered, something she had never said aloud but had thought for years: “They all always liked you better.”
Mara let go, emptying her hands of both the knife and her twin sister.
Blood, black in the black night, stained her hands and the front of her shirt, the contact with the concrete cooling the warm liquid. Ragged breaths possessed her body, becoming more heavy as she watched Emily's unmoving form, crumpled against the night, a paper doll. Flicking her fingers down, she just barely made out specks of blood fleck over her white cheeks like dew.
Darell skidded past Mara, sobs wracking his chest as he cradled Emily. “You called me here to watch her die?” She could hear the rage in his voice, see him turn on her.
“No, no,” she said, calm, tears in her eyes. Bending down, she ran her fingers over Emily’s shell, grasping. Finally, she found it. Slipping the silvery diamond from her ring finger, she stood up and forced it onto her own, the blood making it slippery and hard to see. The matching one was on Darell’s.
“I’m right here.” she said. “It’s me, I’m Emily.”