In Her Skin

TW- violence, mentions of self-harm.

I could hear the raindrops pitter patter against the plexiglass window of my rental apartment, the half-eaten risotto takeout was starting to harden. It's been three months since I moved here. The plumbing is crap, there's a leak in the ceiling, and the landlord is a total cunt, but my work needs to be done. I took out my phone to check the time-9:45 PM.

It's almost time.

Cynthia Lewis always leaves her house at exactly 10:15 every evening. I know this because I watch her. She kisses Jason, her husband, who was usually watching TV, on the cheek. Puts away their left-over supper. Scratches her sister's cat, Patty, on the back, and enters her BMW 5 series for the night.

For as long as I have trailed her, she's never gone anywhere interesting. Sometimes, she drives to the river, gets out and puffs on a cancer stick. Other times, she sits in her car for hours, doom scrolling on her phone. Some nights, she sits reading notebook after notebooks of stuff. I'm not sure where she's going tonight in this typhoon, but I won't let her out of my sight. I'm almost done my work; I can feel it.

People say hate is a strong word, and I agree. Therefore, I can say I absolutely despise Cynthia Lewis. I hate everything about her. I hate the way she dresses, perfect matching outfits for every damn occasion. I hate the way she presses her hair, never a single strand out of place. I hate how she smiles when she speaks, seemingly content with life. I hate how she walks, back taught, shoulders drawn, like her shit doesn't stink. If anyone embodies the word, Hate, it's her. And I know for a fact that her shit stinks.

Tonight, her car is flying down a forest trail lined with the silhouette of evergreens jutting into the sky, sending watery avalanches into the air with each turn. I wonder where she's going. Doesn't she know speeding is dangerous? I doubted Cynthia cared very much about anyone else but herself. I do well to stay far enough behind her, so she doesn't notice me. It's imperative that she doesn't see me, unlike the last time.

Her wheels are screeching with every curve in the road as she slams her brakes. What's gotten into her tonight? Has the woman finally lost her mind? The BMW slips and slides on the road and I tighten my grip on my steering wheel. Suddenly, the BMW veers towards an exit, and she disappears from view. I swivel my steering wheel to trail her. The sound of her vehicle is still audible, but the taillights are hidden by overgrown foliage. A loud screech reverberates into the rainy night, followed by a clamorous boom. Shit.

The rain is thudding against my old truck as I take in the carnage before me. Cynthia's BMW, or half of it, is merged with a giant Seqouia as the engine hisses and sputters. Her car horn blaring. German cars- pieces of shit. My heart is steady in my chest as I exit my vehicle. She must have had too many glasses of wine tonight. I needed her alive though, she can't die yet.

The scent of rain and wet earth hung in the air as I made my way towards her mangled vehicle, iPhone flashlight in hand, gun in the other. I don't trust her. Branches crunched beneath my foot with each step as I inched closer to the car. I could smell the oil leaking out of her engine as I approached the driver side window. The airbag was starting to deflate, a small trace of blood on it, but there was no sign of Cynthia.

I surveyed the car- about fifteen notebooks of vary colors and designs laid strewn in the passenger seat, some had dates printed on the front in glittery letters. Diaries.

As I made my way to the other side of her car, I could feel the rain was now dripping down my temples, burning my eyes. I picked up a book dated 2015 - a planner - my heart sank. I recognized it. It was Sarah's.

I opened the planner and read a page of notes.

• Buy groceries
• Do Laundry
• Make lesson plans
• Meet Kyle at the precinct for our date :)

I closed the book immediately. I couldn't take it. I swear I'll do right by Sarah. No one is willing to do, what I'm willing to do for her.

I take as many of the notebooks into my jacket as I could possibly fit. It would serve as evidence once I take it back to the precinct-they will have to believe me this time. I could continue looking for Cynthia, but the notebooks were more valuable to me. I'll come back later with the cops to find her. I might even get my old job back.

I rushed back into my truck; my jacket is completely soaked as I shrugged it off. I take out three of Sarah's diaries and stash them into the glove compartment before turning the ignition.

"Hello, detective Kyle. Lovely night, isn't it?" a voice came from behind me. A breath stuck in my throat. Ice ran through my veins as I heard the engine sputter to life. Her voice was soft, but her tone was cold. It always was. Even when we first met, I knew something was off with her.

"Cynthia," I answered, reaching for the revolver in my pockets.

A solid piece of metal sent a jabbing pain against my neck, then I heard it, the cocking of a gun.

"Uh-uh, don't do it," she warned, "let me see that hand."

I raised both hands up, phone still gripped in one. I turned around to see Cynthia, soaking wet, a gaping head wound dripping blood. Her dull eyes glazed over. I hated looking at her face, she was a copy and pasted image of her twin.

"You know you're the only one who calls me Cynthia. I'm Sarah, silly." she chuckles manically.

"I know you've been following me, Kyle. Everywhere I go, and I've been letting you go on this cat and mouse chase because I find it amusing. But I'm getting really bored now," she taps the gun to my head, "You know, we broke up right? This is called stalking. Didn't you get fired because of this? You don't learn, do you? But you know, its sweet that you're still in love with me after all this time."

I can smell her perfume; Chanel-chance, she wears the same one as Sarah.

I can feel her breath, she is inches from my ear now,

"I 'm not in love with you, Cynthia. You were always following Sarah around like an angry lost puppy. But you were her sister, so I treated you with kindness and respect. But all this time? Marrying your sister's ex-boyfriend? Pretending to be her? You're sick. You need help, Cynthia!" I exclaimed, watching the pouring rain fall in fat drops against my windshield.

Hot pain shot through my skull as Cynthia battered my head with the back of her pistol. Fuck. My vision blurs but I refuse to pass out. I've been waiting for this moment for five years. I've been dreaming of confronting Cynthia since the day I saw her re-kindle a relationship with Sarah's cheating ex whom Sarah despised. She may have fooled her family, the ex-boyfriend, hell, even the police- but she'll never fool me.

" I SAID DONT CALL ME THAT!" Cynthia screeched, rage filling her voice. Another shock wave of pain from the butt of her gun.

"Just go to the police, turn yourself in. It's the right thing to do. Sarah would have forgiven you. She was the sweetest person to ever walk this earth." My heart ached talking about her, even now. My Sarah, the love of my life.

" First off, Sarah isn't sweet. Secondly, ok. Let's play pretend...let's say I am Cynthia. How did you figure it out? I made sure I put my ID in Sarah's pocket when I pushed her. It was the perfect death. I even wrote a suicide note for myself." Cynthia brimmed, her voice eerily sing-song.

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. She finally said it. She finally admitted it, that she sent her sister over the edge of the bridge. My mind goes back to that night. The night I heard Sarah's sister had committed suicide. They found Cynthia's body on the shoreline.

I rushed to Sarah's side that day, sure she would be distraught since she's always defended her strange twin, but Sarah was different. Instead of crying, she seemed relieved. I thought people processed grief differently, so I ignored it.

Then Sarah's behaviors changed rapidly. She quit her pre-k teaching job, she wore promiscuous clothing, she stopped talking to her friends, and then she left me for Jason, her lawyer ex-boyfriend.

I began to suspect Cynthia had plotted against her sister, Sarah. I grieved for my lost love and vowed that I would prove what Cynthia had done to her sister. I told my collogues, but they refused to believe me, saying I was grief stricken. Then I followed Cynthia everywhere she went. She caught me the last time and reported me to the police. I lost my job, but it didn't stop me.

"Why do you have her diaries and journals? Is it not enough you killed her and replaced her? Are you reveling in the fact that you've successfully fooled everyone?" I asked, willing my voice to stay calm, but heat radiated from my stomach.

"Kyle...Kyle...Kyle..." Cynthia remarked while sucking her teeth, "For a detective, you're not very smart. It's hard work pretending to be someone else. You have to...study...them. I've got all of Sarah's diaries for her entire twenty-five years of life. I need to know how she thinks, and speaks, and" she pauses and smiles, "Love. She really seemed to love you. Don't know why though. Jason has a six-figure income. I knew I would have a better life with Jason, Sarah was always so sentimental."

The anger steeping in me boiled down to rage and I turned around and grabbed Cynthia by her slim neck. Her shocked blue eyes bore into me. "Why Cynthia? Sarah loved you!"

She stops struggling, a cold smile appeared on her lips.

"Sarah this. Sarah that. Sarah's smart. Sarah's so kind. Sarah's so awesome. Cynthia is a weirdo. Cynthia has no friends," Cynthia's breath came out ragged as she continued her tirade. "I hated Sarah. I hated how much people loved her and shunned me! You will never know what it feels like to live in the shadow of your twin, detective Kyle."

I could end her. Right now, if I squeezed hard enough. She would cease to exist, and I would have avenged Sarah. But I didn't want to become a monster like her. I didn't want to live my life covering my tracks with deceit. I let go of her neck.

"That's sweet, Kyle. You're letting me live. I can see why she liked you. It's too bad I can't afford that to you since you know the truth now."

-BANG- I heard the noise before feeling the pain. I knew my fate was sealed. There was a red flower blooming on my shirt, right over my heart.

"I-I hope you've enjoyed your time as Sarah, you've never held a candle up to her... But for every action, there is a consequence... There is always a price to be paid...and now your time is up." My vision blurs and my fingers grew numb.

The woman with Sarah's face laughed.

I pressed send on my iPhone.