Double

I never really understood the meaning of college.

We attend school for twelve years just to be told "hey it's not over yet... what do you see yourself in the next ten years? best to go to college and find a major!" at the end of senior year. Give me a fucking break! from pre-school to kindergarten to first grade, second, and so on its a never ending story of "it's not over yet". And they wonder why some of us don't make it past sophomore year, half of us get on exotic drugs after graduation, and the ones they do make their way to college their slapped with unlimited debt gifted by all the student loans and not to mention most of us rarely get a career in what we decide to major in. Funny right? just a little.

The whole system is just a sad case if you ask me, no one knows what the fuck they're actually doing just getting by hoping the next won't catch on. But me on the other hand, you see, I knew the world was full of shit once I turned sixteen and on the day of my birthday, I caught oh mommy dearest fucking the cable guy. You don't have to say it, I already know what you're thinking... cliche? I mean she could've spun a twist on it and settled for the tech man, Gary, who has been handling our cyber security for over six years now, but hey, who's to say she hasn't.

I remember that time I was eight and our car had broken down on the side of the road, we had been coming from my piano practice, I use to love to play. Mama had long dark brown curly hair that hung down to her ass, she had decided to dye blonde over the years. Her once fat nose I remembered as a little girl had been swapped for a pointy more defined nostril. Her lips, which were once thin, now held a bit more weight, she loved those fillers. Her skin, that had once been a smooth coca nut brown now resembled skin of a European. Her eyes always reminded me of a cat, Chinese structured, and of a snake, cold manipulation. I never understood why mama hated who she was, the skin she was born in, the body that she grew up in, but I knew she did.

That day Mama had to phone a mechanic; Daddy was always gone on business since the oil filed never had many off days. She had been smoking a newport short and that's when I knew she was coming up with something, anytime mama pulled out them ports next day we always had something new, and I'd hear "Daddy don't need to know everything Suga plump". The mechanic had finally arrived after about an hour in the heat of July. I can't recall everything that happened on that summer's day but one thing that I'll always remember was how my mama handled the mechanic when he tried to run the quickest game on her. I learned that day that mama was a lot of things but stupid? not even a little. "don't ever let the cover of the book determine your view of the story sweetcakes" she had told the mechanic "I wouldn't lick your wrench even if" she paused, got all up in his face, nose to nose. "...it was the last in the tool kit". Popping the red Loli-pop back in her mouth and getting back in the driver's seat. I was so amazed as a little girl, trying the hardest to figure out why the mechanic didn't beat her ass over his manhood. When he had left after a job that would've token the next faster, she didn't move or say anything and that had confused the eight-year-old in me, my mama always had something to say. I didn't say anything and decided to nudge her, maybe she was daydreaming or thinking about what daddy was doing. After a long pause, there was still nothing, just silence and it bothered me because the sun had started to go down and I was hungry as hell. "MAMA" I had finally yelled, not giving a damn if the tone was disrespectful.

She had finally looked at me after all that time and the next thing she said never left me as if she tattooed it in my head. "Do I know you?" Mama wondered, her facial expression was as serious as ever and her hazel eyes held a certain void to them, something I had never caught until that moment, I was speechless, scared and felt out of place. "Have we met before?" she urged on. By then I was already crying, the eight-year-old me couldn't take the pressure anymore. "MAMA! THIS AINT ' FUNNY WHATS GOIN' ON?" eight-year-old me demanded results not excuses. As if a light switched had turned on and off, she grabbed my hand and provided a smile "Lower your voice Suga plum" she said, ignoring the fact she couldn't recall the last few moments "oh it's getting real dark, let's get you home and fed ...you have school tomorrow" was how that day ended. No explanation, no mentioning whatever I thought I had seen to Daddy, no nothing.

I couldn't hold it in, everything else anything else but that, so I had waited a month or so and told Daddy what happened on that day in July. Craziest part is that I remember when Daddy had finally come home that year, he didn't seem as happy. He had barely even spoken to me and had told mama they had appointment that day and no, I couldn't come.

Six years down the line, I had learned exactly what that appointment was. I was looking for my favorite sweater, in the basement, to wear to track practice and instead stumbled upon a filing cabinet, me being nosey and all, I looked through the files ignoring the feeling of being scared of what I find.

And there it was in broad day, on a thin crispy white sheet of paper that read:

DIAGNOSED: split personalities, double, CLONE 377#

The lights go out. But under the led light that has its own power source, I caught a glimpse of a wrench and pretty blonde hair.

"You weren't supposed to see that"

My whole world goes black.