Vanishing Act

No one tells you how strange it is to attend your own funeral. But then again, I suppose it’s not every day that a funeral is held for someone who’s not really dead.

I mean, I’m sitting right here.

But no one sees me.

At least not the real me.

They think I’m someone else.

But I have to be. This is the way it has to be.

One by one, people approach the closed casket to say their goodbyes. To Morgan.

Except I’m here, standing in the back of the church, pressing my trembling hands behind me into the cool marble wall.

But no one notices.

The church echoes with their whispers. Their emotion is suffocating. The occasional passerby stops in front of me to offer their condolences. But they don’t know I’m the wrong sister.

I’m supposed to be the one in the casket. God got it wrong.

Hallie was the good twin. The shining star. The one who got everything she ever wanted. The one who held me together when our parents died in that horrible car crash years ago.

I’m the screw up. The one who parties too much. The one who never applies herself. The one who always finds herself in trouble. The one who spiraled even further out of control when our parents died.

And this time, I really messed up.

Hallie was never supposed to be in that car with me.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, choking down the sob that’s working its way up my throat.

Hallie’s absence hangs over me like a shadow. She’s gone. Really and truly gone.

Except not really. Because now I’m here. To the world, Morgan is the one in the casket. I told them that she’s so badly disfigured that the casket needs to stay closed, but that’s a lie. I’m just afraid that they’ll figure it out. If they see both of us, someone is bound to discover what I did.

And no one can ever know.

“Please, everyone, take your seats,” the pastor calls from the front of the church.

I push away from the wall and make my way to my seat in the front pew, trying to ignore the stares boring into me.

Hallie’s friends sit on either side of me and wrap their arms around my shoulders. But they’re not my friends, so I find no comfort in the gesture. I might as well be sitting alone.

I fight the urge to slap their hands away. How can they call themselves her best friends if they can’t even tell that I’m not Hallie?

Are any of these people here for Morgan? Or are they all just here to comfort Hallie?

But as hard as I try, I can’t even be mad at the thought. I guess these same people would have been here no matter who was in the casket. At least this way, they’re not mourning their friend. They can go on happily thinking that their loved one is alive and well.

I never did anything to deserve friends like these. It’s better that they’re here to comfort Hallie instead.

After all, Morgan is the reason Hallie is dead.

But they’ll never know that. They can never know what happened on that twisty road in the middle of the night.

She wasn’t supposed to be there. But once again, I needed her to bail me out of trouble. And she came without complaint. The way she always does. Or did.

Oh God.

She’d come running when I called because I was stuck on the bad side of town, having had too much to drink, with no way to get home. She always came when I needed her. No questions asked.

But that night, we fought. As soon as she pulled away from the dealer’s house, I knew I’d pushed her too far that time.

It was raining. And we were yelling at each other.

She was going too fast.

And she never saw the other car coming.

The next thing I remember is waking upside down, hanging by my seatbelt.

I called for my sister, but I heard nothing above the sounds of sirens in the distance.

My seatbelt was ripping me in half, but I managed to get free and pull myself from the wreckage. I crawled along the ground, but we had rolled too far down the embankment. I had no hope of pulling myself up to the road.

But even if I had the strength to do it, what I saw next would have stopped me in my tracks.

Even if I could have heard anything over the sirens, I wouldn’t have heard my sister’s reply. Because her lifeless body lay crumpled at the bottom of a tree.

It should have been me.

And in that split second, I made a decision that changed my life forever.

And now, here I sit in a crowded church, sitting in my sister’s seat, wearing her clothes and her name. And no one will ever know because Hallie and I shared the same face for the past twenty years.

As the pastor begins the eulogy, my chest constricts with the weight of my grief and the secret I’m keeping from everyone here. I fold my hands tightly in my lap as Hallie’s friends sob into my shoulders.

The pastor paints a beautiful picture of Morgan—a version of her that loved her family and had a bright future full of big dreams.

But it’s all a lie. None of that is true.

Morgan was a mess—one bender away from winding up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Hallie had seen it. She saw the cracks that were splitting Morgan in two.

There was no bright future for Morgan. She was a coward, too afraid to face the harsh realities of the life she’d been given.

Hallie had been fearless. Hallie loved her family above all and had a bright future. Hallie wasn’t afraid.

So I decided it was Hallie who should live on.

No one will miss Morgan.

And maybe some of Hallie’s good luck will rub off on me if I pretend to be her.

As the pastor continues with the beautiful eulogy, I can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. Their gazes are full of pity.

But they don’t know me.

They know Hallie. The one lying in the casket.

The service stretches on. A few stand and tell stories of Morgan. But they’re all lies. They tell stories about a fun-loving girl who lit up the room, but it’s all just to make themselves feel better.

With every tearful goodbye and every prayer, my mind wanders further away. I try to stay in the moment—to keep the illusion intact—but their stares are making me itch. With every whisper, I begin to doubt my plan. They know.

But they can’t know. No one will ever know. Not unless I make a mistake. Not unless I slip up.

As the service comes to an end, the pastor invites me to the front to say my final goodbye. My heart races, but the closed casket conceals the truth. I feel a pang of guilt, but it’s easier this way. It would hurt too much to see her like that. The memory of her crumpled body already overshadows any memory of the Hallie that used to be. I don’t need the image of her lifeless body lying in a casket.

Besides, it’s easier to pretend it’s Morgan in the casket if I can’t see Hallie’s face.

I reach the front and press my outstretched hand on the casket lid. I’m shaking enough for everyone to see, but no one looks too closely. They’re too consumed by their own grief to notice.

But it’s not grief for Morgan.

They’re hurting because they think Hallie is hurting.

But Hallie is dead.

I turn, and my eyes meet Ethan’s. Hallie’s boyfriend.

Uncertainty flickers across his eyes. He knows, doesn’t he?

If anyone would figure out my secret, it would be him.

The fear chokes me, but I force myself to turn back to my sister’s casket. I have to keep going. It’s too late to turn back now. I’m Hallie for the rest of my life.

________________________________________

After Hallie’s body is lowered in the ground, we gather back at the church for a meal.

It’s just as suffocating as the service. The air is thick with the smell of thirty different casseroles and the sounds of awkward small talk.

I move from one group to the next, never really seeing anyone as they offer their condolences. I feel the mask begin to crack with each performance, and I begin to doubt whether I can do this for the rest of my life.

I’m Hallie.

I’m Hallie.

But I’m also Morgan.

My own identity tugs at the back of my mind like a bad memory that won’t stay buried. I fight the urge to claw at my skin and bite back the scream that wants to rip free. I’m desperate to tell everyone the truth.

But I can’t.

I can’t ever let this fall apart.

I glance around the room and find Ethan staring out the window at the freshly dug earth as if he’s waiting for Morgan to rise from the dead. But he’s not really grieving. He never liked Morgan. He’s only here to offer his support for Hallie.

As I watch him, he turns to face me, and my heart skips a beat.

I never cared for Ethan either.

He was good to Hallie, and in some ways, they were perfect for each other. But I saw something in him that was all too familiar. He battled the same kind of darkness I did.

I walk up to him and stare out at my sister’s grave.

His expression is uncertain, but he wraps me in a hug anyway. “Hallie…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

No one ever does.

His arms squeeze me possessively, and my breath hitches. Does he notice? Can he see that I’m not his Hallie?

He lets go of me and shakes his head, his hand reaching out for mine. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Just please…don’t beat yourself up about this. It’s not your fault.” His eyes search mine.

I can’t tell if he’s talking to Hallie or Morgan.

Either way, it is my fault.

If I had just pulled my life together—if I had just been a better sister—Hallie never would have needed to rescue me.

But his words and his comforting touch make something tighten in my chest. I fight the urge to break down and tell him everything. I want to tell him that I’m not Hallie. I want someone else to know that Morgan still exists—Hallie’s mirror image.

But the enormous lie holds me back. I’m trapped in a prison of my own making.

“It’s okay, Ethan.” My voice shakes, but the lie rolls off my tongue with ease.

The lie is the only thing that keeps my whole world from shattering.

But as Ethan pulls me into another hug, the weight of the truth presses in around me.

Will it always be like this?

This lie was supposed to give me a second chance—supposed to give Hallie a second chance. Because of the choice I made, the right sister can go on living.

The quiet murmurs of Hallie’s supporters overwhelm me. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face in Ethan’s shoulder.

Ethan’s arms tighten around me, and a sob breaks free as the tears that I’d been holding back all day finally spill over.

But they’re not for Hallie.

They’re for me.

Because somewhere, in the midst of it all, Morgan died, too.