The skeletons in their closets

Millie could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of her sister. Laura was sat beside Millie on their beige settee, overlooking the vast blue of the sky through the french doors. Their parents had rented this flat for its proximity to Millie’s college and Laura’s job as a fitness trainer.

They were both expected at their perspective places this Tuesday morning. However, after breakfast, Laura had snaked her fingers through Mille’s and guided her to the settee they were now perched upon. Mille waited patiently for what Laura had to say but her sister was edgy and tense. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead, her fingers tapped insistently over her knees and her body was rigid. Finally, she turned to look at Millie.

“I need to tell you something because I can’t keep this from you anymore,” she announced, her voice breathless, and Millie braced herself. It was rare that the sisters held back secrets from each other but Laura’s behaviour was telling Mille it was no little thing. 

“What is it, Lo?” Millie asked, taking hold of Laura’s hands that were now shaking on her lap. She noticed how Laura wouldn’t meet her eyes. Her blond locks looked how they were when she got back from her training, unruly and rumpled. But she hadn’t gone for the classes yet, it was still early morning and Laura was the most organised and presentable person before she left for work.

“I just want this out in the open,” Laura said then bit her lip in agitation. She inhaled deeply and steeled herself for her next words, “you’re not actually my sister.” The air in the room frizzled then thinned out and Mille couldn’t breathe properly.

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” Millie asked, perplexed and needing to prove the declaration wrong. “We have the same parents, we have the same blonde hair, same brown eyes. You might be a little on the tall side, but that doesn’t mean anything. We grew up together and we look the same, we look like sisters.” Mille’s desperation leaked into her tone and her fingers were now gripping Laura’s arm, begging her to agree. It made no sense. Millie was sure her parents hadn’t adopted her because she did bear some resemblance to Laura and their mother too. 

Laura was now shaking her head, her eyes glossy with tears on the brink of cascading down her cheeks. “I need to tell you more,” she said and Millie could sense the weight of her words, somehow knowing that what was coming was much worse. Laura fell quiet, little tremors running through her body, her hands fisting on her laps. 

“Lo? What is it? Say something, tell me how I’m not your sister,” Millie insisted, her fingers digging deeper into the ivory skin of Laura's upper arm but she didn’t seem to feel anything. Laura’s breathing was accelerating and her jaw tightening.

“Ten years ago, something really, really bad happened,” Laura started. The tension and suspense had a clasp on Mille’s throat and she wasn’t breathing. “Ten years ago, I was also an only child of Maggie and Ben Harold, living in a cul-de-sac of a small town in Huston.”

Millie remained silent, disbelief clogging her thought-process.

“It was a Saturday afternoon. Dad was in the garden out in the back and Mom was in the TV room. I was the one who noticed you,” Laura paused to suck in more air. “I was playing with Marco, our cat, in the front yard. I look up at one point and I see this girl, ambling past our house and she had appeared transfixed, dazed and lost. She looked a mess too. Her bright blonde hair matted in odd places, her floral sundress soaked from something. Mille, that girl was you and you were soaked in blood.”

Millie physically lurched away from Laura, the disclosure sending wild shocks through her system. She recoiled into the corner of the settee, unable to be near Laura who was the source of words that Mille never imagined she would hear. She watched Laura inhale another round, ready for the impact of more information.

“I called out to you but you were trapped in this kind of trance and continued walking. I followed after you, genuinely concerned but you wouldn’t respond to any of my calls. Then I had to grab onto you and I remember the awful stench of blood. You then flinched and turned around and what I saw was a terrified girl. You seemed to snap out of your reverie and started whimpering. I saw how scared and lost you were so I asked you to come with me and maybe Mom and Dad could help you. You didn’t even seem to understand what I was saying and the confusion was evident on your face, so I thought maybe you don’t speak English. I gestured to follow me and you did.”

Millie’s eyes snapped around, trying to make sense of all this information being unloaded over her like a bucket of ice-cold water. There was absolutely no memory in Millie’s head of what Laura talked about.

“Mom was hysterical when I walked in with you and her swears were what summoned dad back into our house. They threw questions at me and seeing that I had no answers, directed their interrogation at you. You broke down after a while and I had noticed your intense confusion like their words were so unfamiliar. My parents calmed down and my mother’s tenderness won over and she cleaned you up, dumping your blood-soaked dress out. 

“At night, after dinner, we sat around in the living room with you and my parents tried a different approach. They used their simplest words, asking where you came from, where your parents are, but you had no comprehension. They were so baffled because you were about ten and ten-year-olds do know how to speak by then. Even if you spoke another language, you would have voiced your thoughts, told us you didn’t understand us in whatever language you knew. However, That wasn’t the case, you didn’t say a word, hadn’t known how to eat the chicken roast we had for dinner. After we fell silent from frustration, you sat engrossed in the programme playing on the muted TV like it was the most fascinating object in the room. I had realised your behaviour was just like a two-year-old kid's.”

“Is that it?” Mille followed the silence that had fallen over the room. “So what was the blood? Was it a car crash? Did my parents die and I survived?” Millie’s heart was on a marathon and it was becoming painful to breathe.

“Mom and Dad decided to let you stay the night and they would investigate the next day. That didn’t go as planned because the next morning, on the eight o’clock news, there was a report on a dead couple in their own home.”

“No,” Millie whimpered, her hope dashed and her heart gaping open. 

“That’s not even the worst part,” Laura inhaled yet again. “They were murdered.”

Anger swelled within Millie, bubbling up her body and blooming in her vision. Her real parents were murdered, their lives cut short and more than anything, she wanted to know who did it. That murderer had nearly sent her life plummeting. If it wasn’t for Laura and her parents, she could have been another one of those street children, picking out food from the garbage, sneaking around and stealing, getting mixed up with gangs and drugs. She could have been an orphan, passed around from adoption centre to next, from one foster family to another.

“Mom and Dad took a day or two to confirm that you were the missing daughter. The case was that apparently, it was not a burglary that had gone wrong. Their deaths were gruesome, multiple stabs at odd angles and places, murdered in their own bed,” Laura shuddered and suddenly stood up, her legs wobbling then she turned around to look at Millie. Her face was flustered and stiff, her chest raised from her holding her breath.

“Who did it? Who killed them?” Millie asked, her body shivering from the images of her dead parent that seemed too real the more she thought of it.

“Dad came home on the third day and you know being a sergeant meant he got all the details. He told mom how there was no sign of forced entry. The forensic results supported the claim and the family had no enemies they kept close and so it became obvious.” There was a hitch in the air. “Millie, you murdered your own parents and slipped into a fugue state.”

Mille’s stomach roiled and in an instant she found her legs pulling her up then past their bathroom door. She flung herself over the toilet seat, the contents of her breakfast shooting out past her lips. The acid burned her throat and she cried from the physical effort and the ache in her chest. She stood up with trembling legs then cleaned up over the sink, trying with all her might to block out Laura’s words. Millie murdering her own parents at just ten? It was impossible. She stormed out the bathroom, ready to attack Laura’s fallible claims.

“I don’t believe you,” she started, pointing an angry finger at Laura. “What kind of sick child would I be to stab my parents to death? That’s sick. Maybe Dad and the police just assumed that because you know how they are. Who would want to dwell on additional work when they can just close the case. If I did kill them, shouldn’t I be in jail until now?”

“They never found you because Dad never said a word about you being with us. He wasn’t happy about it but mom and I convinced him and we moved away a few weeks later with you. We started a new life. Mom and I dyed our hair blonde to help you look related to us. After a month, you could talk properly, go about your day like a normal kid. When we realised your memory loss was most likely permanent, we fully integrated you into our family, changed your name, and filled out all the legal requirements. You never showed any aggressive behaviour so everything fell into place and I got the sister I always wanted.” Laura sniffed, red hue tinting the corners of her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you just send me away, got me adopted?” Mille asked, the shock from the fact that she could have murdered her parents receding. It may not have happened. Only the memories she didn’t possess held the truth.  

“The police were adamant that it was you and the case was so public that anyone would turn you in if we gave you up. Mom and I loved you, so keeping you was our best choice.”

Silence shrouded the room again. Mille’s body was high-wired with the revolting images that were crawling at the back of her mind.

“Do you think I killed them?” Mille tentatively asked, scared of the answer.

“I can't say for sure. Dad was off the case after we left and we completely cut out the outside world for a while. No watching news on the TV, no newspapers lying around, no word of the incident. We were afraid any mention of it would trigger your memories and you would do the worst. I only told you today because you’re old enough now. You know what’s wrong and right and you’ve grown into the kindest person I know.” Laura moved closer, her fingers twisting with each other, her gestures nervous.

“Can I see a photo of them, of my parents?” Millie asked, wanting to look into the faces of the lives she may have ended. 

“I’ll search it up,” Laura said, feeling for her phone on the side-pockets of her yoga pants. In a minute, the phone was being handed to Mille and she was gazing at a man and a woman’s side by side close-up shots. She would have cherished her mother’s strong features and her father’s prominent good looks but she didn’t admire their beauty. The picture shot sparks of shock and Mille’s body grew numb from the images firing past her eyes. Her physical jolt must have alerted Laura because she caught her phone before it had hit the floor. Mille’s fingers were shaking. Her memories were distorted, bit by bit coming together then fading away. She couldn’t grasp onto one firm account but she was sure of one thing.

“Lo, I did kill them but only because they killed my little sister.”