Broken Unbroken

Written by Jasmine Gabriel Winoto

It starts raining harder. Two clouds hang overhead, too close to each other that they become one. The woman is gasping for fresh air but all she can swallow are icy droplets. Her eyelids flutter open, then close as the sound of the drizzling rain consumes her. She wants to take flight yet her legs don’t seem to understand her.

They seem to ask: Where shall you go now?

Gemini

Today, Hannah and I stumble upon something new, which is always a nice surprise in this little town of ours where tumbling tourists come every other weekend. The small coffee shop at the end of the street, Koffiehuis, has just launched a brand-new assortment of cinnamon rolls, packaged into a meal you could order with a cup of coffee. Hannah is the first to notice the board placed outside the door and is quick to pull me into the shop. We order the meal and settle near the window, watching the sun dip, bringing its remaining glimmers with it.

‘Hey, Gem.’ Hannah bumps my shoulder. In this lighting, her eyes gleam three shades lighter than their ‘boring brown’ as she likes to call them, though they really aren’t. Strands of untamed hair poked out of her two pigtails and my hand is reaching for them. ‘The barista’s checking on us.’

I turn to the way she is staring and sure enough, a pair of eyes hurriedly divert. Hannah giggles slightly, her posture straightening.

‘Let’s see if he can distinguish one from the other when you put your hair down,’ I say.

I try to free her strawberry blonde curls but she dodges as swiftly. The barista calls us to pick up our order at the counter, stuttering on their names, his eyes widening when Hannah walks over, takes our food, and winks at him. She doesn’t even wait to settle back into her seat before she releases a fit of giggles, and I can’t help but join in.

By the time the last of the sun disappears and streetlights glow to life, we turn to the row of small identical two-story buildings facing the docks.

‘Home sweet home,’ I mutter bitterly as Hannah shuts the door behind her.

‘Come on, it’s not so bad.’

She gives one of her warm smiles, nudging me. ‘At least I have you.’

‘And I, you.’

Cedric

Cedric is never sure where his life had gone wrong. He was once showered in gold and diamonds, dressed in silk and satin. His parents were a pair of moneybags, and he was their heir. His future had been clear: inheriting his father’s wooden clogs company, which he had inherited from his own father, Gaan Wandelen.

He had been promised a life full of wealth and security. But it never came to him. Where did he go wrong? Of course, his sober self would know the answer to that simple question, but now, he is left with nothing but disconnected ramblings of his inebriated mind.

‘Pim! Another,’ he calls out to the bartender, who is swiping a cloth over a shot glass.

Pim’s mustache twitches at the order, but he obliges, pouring some whiskey into the cleaned glass.

‘Tough day?’ Pim tries to make small talk with his patron¾even more than that, often the only person accompanying him until the late hours when he is on shift.

Cedric grumbles as Pim slides the small glass closer to his reach. Cedric doesn’t bother wiping the bead of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth and onto the counter. Pim decides that the man isn’t in any way sober enough to be able to make a coherent conversation, let alone the sombre talks they usually exchange, so he leaves to tend to another customer. Once Pim is gone from his sight, Cedric downs his eighth — is it eighth? Ninth? He lost count at fifth — glass.

Where did he go wrong?

It is a constantly-repeating question he will never get the answer to. At least, not tonight.

He hears the rustling of Pim’s uniform and his hands concocting drinks by memory, as the pub quiets down. Customers stumble out, entangled in one another. Beer glasses clink in the sink. Water rushes. Pim runs a handful of soapy sponge through them with trained efficiency.

‘Wherrre’s everybody goin’…?’ Cedric slurs. He squints at the blurry numbers on his wristwatch, the only item worth mentioning that his parents ever gave to him. ‘It’s…barely mid…night.’ I think.

‘Ya know the drill, ya drunkard.’

Two minutes later, Cedric finds himself standing under the pouring rain, his shirt sticking onto his skin, his gelled hair drenched but still upright.

‘Ya sure, ya can walk?’ Pim asks from up on his motorcycle.

‘Yeah… It’ll clear my head… The rain.’

Pim shrugs, spurs his motorcycle to life, and drives away.

Cedric looks up to the dark skies, acid rainwater stinging his reddened bleary eyes.

Where did he go wrong?

Gemini

When it rains, it rains hard. I’m meddling around the firewood from the fireplace when Hannah calls me. I rush to her, hearing the first soft drops of rain tapping on our bedroom window.

Despite the gentle start, Hannah already has her palms over her ears. Even at the age of twenty-two, she still can’t get over her fear of storms. I envelop her in a hug. Hannah’s ragged breathing begins to dissipate as the rain worsens and the minutes pass by. Not long after, Hannah shuffles to her bed in a daze.

‘You be okay while I’m gone?’ I say to her as I pull out my umbrella.

She nods slightly, before burying her head back into the comforter.

‘I’ll be back soon.’

On rainy days like this, there seems to be a different pace of life around the neighbourhood. The fishermen come back from the angry seas, cursing and shouting at one another to pack the fishes faster and fold up the fishing nets. The baker frantically tucks all of the bread and pastries on display outside into baskets, then rushes into his shop, the door slamming behind him. The cheesemonger leans against his doorframe, sighing pensively, shaking his head as customers start to leave, rushing home.

I make my way through the town square, almost empty except for some tourists with their deceptive sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats, still searching for a place to take cover.

Upon my arrival at the doorstep of the local clinic, I find Mother chatting animatedly with the receptionist. Even at the age of fifty-five, and though her blonde hair is lined with grey her eyes have never dulled. Emerald green. Still as bright as they were when she was my age, or so I’d like to think.

‘Mother,’ I start as I approach her. She turns to me, her gaze perplexed at first, but then she notices the gushing rain behind me. ‘Let’s go home.’

‘Right.’

She hurries back to her office and returns to the lobby with her usual emergency medic bag. The receptionist and she exchange some friendly remarks, then we’re off on the streets. We don’t talk on our way back home. We never do.

Once we arrive at the doorstep and her hand wraps around the doorknob, Mother eyes me worriedly. I keep my eyes trained on her wrist. The turn of the knob. A shift of reluctance in her stance. As the door opens, her body is yanked inside and my legs almost take flight but the rest of my body goes rigid as a familiar scent wafts into my nose. Alcohol.

I step inside, shutting the door close.

There stands the figure I despise so much.

His eyes are half-lidded, his shoulders slouched, and in one of his fists, a bundle of Mother’s hair, now wrenched out of her previous kempt bun, the vital blonde now attaining the lacklustre quality of straw. My stare flits to his other hand. The sight of it makes me wince.

A leather belt, sliding across the floor. It slithers closer and closer to them, like a snake preparing to catch a mouse.

‘Where have you been?’ His voice is ragged and heavy. The rain and Mother’s silent sobs only add to the grotesque picture, a picture I am trapped in. I stay silent. What are the odds of him sobering up?

His belt meets the wooden floor in a loud snap.

Miniscule, I think.

‘I asked, where have you been?’

‘I went and picked her up,’ I reply, my voice uncharacteristically small and weak.

A slap claps my left ear. I flinch.

‘Just like we agreed, then.’

He drags Mother into the living room. The heavy thud of her body is followed with a quiet yelp and even quieter whimpers. His footsteps thump on the wooden board. One, two… One two…

‘Do you know your place, insolent child?’ His face inches closer. The pungent alcohol on his breath chokes all the air in my throat. ‘You will learn it one of these days.’

He gestures me to follow him into the living room. I do just that.

Mother doesn’t shift from where she lies curled on the floor. I move closer to her. In this distance, I can feel rather than see her whole body shaking. Placing my hand on her arm, I squeeze it softly. All the words I want to say are delivered in the small gesture.

A dark streak passes across my field of vision. There is a loud smack. I feel the seething sting on the back of my right hand, with which I circled Mother’s arm.

‘Get away from her,’ he growls, his eyes glinting with disgust.

My hand doesn’t budge despite the pain pulsing through it. Instead, I level myself as much as I can with his height, my spirit not to be dwarfed by sheer size, and muster my bravest voice, but it comes out rather tiny for my liking.

‘You get away.’

He cocks his head to one side. His frown dissolves. His lips part.

I force myself to stand still, clutching my fist to prevent release.

He sets his eyes on Mother, the grin at last settling on his face.

‘You hear that?’ He raises the belt over his head. ‘She thinks she knows her place — ’

The belt lands on my head. I stagger back until I am all over the floor.

Another slap, this time on my arms then on my chest.

I have forgotten where the pain started but it doesn’t end.

‘ — but she doesn’t.’

I find release in the darkness that starts to engulf me; my prolonged consciousness is a fragment of torture.

I hear Father’s shouts and screams accompanied by Mother’s cries that try to be inaudible but become meek squeaks and whimpers.

I wish I could just succumb to this darkness forever, never shaken of its black comforts. But I have made a promise to myself, to Hannah. I know my place, because I have carved it right next to her. I will keep you safe. I will never let anyone hurt you. I will keep you safe I will never let anyone hurt you keep you safe no one will hurt you

They all harmonize, this chant of promises and these strains of sounds of oppression, merging into a song of distress and agony that lulls and dulls me as I find myself slipping away — slipping, slipping, slipping… and finally, I am free.

Alanza

She momentarily forgets where she is.

Then memories of the last minutes return just as easily as they had gone.

On the floor, her limbs sprawled on the wooden panels seem to have taken an unnatural, grotesque shape. She feels numb. There is a continuous clap of skin and leather above her, across the room. She moves her head, ever-so-slightly. The pain which has subsided, injects itself into her arms, legs, temple. Then it subsides. Then it comes back.

From the vantage point her pain has permitted, she looks over her daughter’s figure. She remembers a few hours before her daughter was still free of the fresh blue bruises and raw red scars. Now her child lays, her breathing slow and unsteady.

It wasn’t always like this. She met Cedric as the charming yet driven man, back in her hometown. He had been smart and courageous, resourceful and determined. He showed her a new world, a world where she was free to roam around. She had all been nothing but a small-town girl. She had been loved and cared for. Her wings were tended to. She had flown above all lands and he was there beside her. Her happiness overflowed once more when a little angel was given from the skies, their daughter, Hannah. She was the happiest she had ever been, back then. Freedom painted her body. Not the yellow, blue, red and purple splotches that looked nothing like an artist’s palette.

Then, everything shifted, slightly, but it was enough to rend a rift.

Her husband came home, the scent of alcohol clouding his breaths. Her body, suddenly rendered a broken doll, hurled to the wall. The beatings started. It didn’t take long before their daughter interfered and there were two suffering.

She never asks why he does it.

Is this what a wife is obliged to do? Being at the end of her husband’s belt, desperately trying to soothe the invisible pain festering inside him, to soothe also the throbbing physical counterparts expressed on her flesh. Saying ‘yes’ twenty-four years ago means he has control over her body, hence her life. There is no part left for her.

The last two smacks of belt miss her completely. She opens her eyes — when did she close them? — and stares at the same ceiling he chose for their house two decades ago. Her husband has retired to his usual seat, the run-down couch closest to the pantry. Just like the rest of the things in this room, its bright colour has faded with time.

A prick of pain touches her newly-opened wound on her left cheek. The sting of her own tears.

No, she realises. She mustn’t continue this way, no matter if it is what society dictates a wife should be. Her husband had gifted her with wings to bring her to this city full of promise. She realises, that once a bird has its taste of freedom, it wants to be caged no more.

Gemini

The Walkers are going on another date for the second time this month. We say goodbye to the happy couple as their baby girl, Annabelle, coos softly in Hannah’s arms.

‘We’ll be back soon!’ says Mrs Walker. ‘Take care of her, alright?’

‘Will do!’ I wave as their car drives away.

Hannah starts bouncing Annabelle lightly and I close the door behind us. The sound of guns whirls to life from the 50-inch TV, similar to what we have at home, though hardly anyone is able to savour the luxury as the remote is always within our father’s reach.

Annabelle keeps wriggling in Hannah’s arms, discomfort folding her chubby pink face. I sigh, running my hand through Hannah’s curls, then take the remote from her grasp and clicks the power button.

‘Hey!’ Hannah tries to get the remote back but I’m quicker. ‘He almost reached his brother’s troops!’

‘You already know how it ends. He dies. And remember what Mrs. Walker said?’

‘No guns and violence in our house.’ Hannah’s voice pitched higher than usual, an attempt to mimic Mrs. Walker. She rolls her eyes, but as she turns back to Annabelle, her frustration disperses into a small smile. ‘Thank the stars you’re cute, Abel.’

I scoff, taking a seat beside them.

All of a sudden, Hannah glances at me in a frenzy, her brows furrowing together. Then, I hear it.

Hannah almost drops Annabelle. It could’ve gotten messy, but my arms swoop in to catch her. Hannah starts to curl up. She shuts her eyes then clamps both her ears. Annabelle seems calm, still saying ‘da-da’ to me even when thunder growls and lightning crackles as it shoots the earth outside. Hannah is whimpering, her entire body quivering.

‘Hey…’ I place my hand on her back. The gesture makes her flinch away. ‘You’re okay. You will be.’

She turns to me, her eyes already red, her nose runny and her lips trembling. A few sobs escape. I sling my free arm around her. She tenses a little before relaxing on my shoulder.

‘Thanks, Gem.’

‘Hey, I’ll never let anyone hurt you.’

We sit there in silence. Miraculously, Annabelle has closed her eyes and fallen asleep through the heavy rain drumming against the windows. My legs start to cramp so I shift my weight and Hannah stirs to sit up.

‘I never realized how lucky I am to have you.’

‘Well, you’re kinda stuck with me now…,’ I say without missing a beat.

She stifles a giggle and continues murmuring to herself. ‘He can’t take you. He can take Mr. Cuddles for all I care but you’re stuck with me.’

Her statement echoes through my head, replaying the exact same name she said fifteen years ago. I lose sense of reality and my mind propels itself to the time when everything changed, when it pivoted out of place.

Gemini

Seventeen years ago, the rain started. It came and rapidly swept through our side of town. The rain varied in such lengths of time, ferocities and densities that the weather forecasters stopped trying to predict them and took to personal precautions.

I was sprawled on Hannah’s bed with a book in my hand, History of The Dark Ages. It had been sitting on the bookshelf for years now, a part of Father’s humongous book collection. As I turned the page halfway through the book, a deafening wail came from the living room. I flinched.

Father was at it again. Beating and cursing Mother. Don’t bother considering that Hannah and I were just a few feet away, the sounds barely concealed by thin walls.

That was when I noticed, Hannah wasn’t in the room. Mother never cried, at least not out loud.

It was Hannah.

I jolted out of bed and rushed to the living room where I saw Father’s figure, still moving in a sickening rhythm. His belt held high up, brought down on Mother’s back.

My eyes skimmed the room, searching for Hannah¾my Hannah.

She was sobbing on the floor at the farthest corner of the room. Her teddy bear had been torn up into pieces, lying just inches away from her. As soon as I reached her, she clung to me.

‘H-he took it, Gem…’ Hannah’s small hands clutched the hem of my new pyjamas as my arms circled her. I felt horribly insufficient that moment, unable to create a permanent protective layer.

‘He took Mr. Cuddles — ’ she hiccupped, her eyes transfixed by the unsalvageable bulk of wool behind me, and I shielded her from the view ‘ — and he beat me…’

‘Shh…’

‘And Mother…’

She stopped but that silence meant more than any words. I dared a glance at the weak figure propped against the wall, bloodied and bruised. Father seemed to notice our presence. He eyed us at first, then I saw a flash in his eyes that screamed danger. I held Hannah at arm’s length as her cries subsided and her breath evened out. I clenched my jaws, preparing myself for the next words I was about to say.

‘Listen to me, Hannah.’ My tone was serious, unlike any other five-year-old.

I was taken aback myself but there wasn’t much time left. Father’s footsteps sounded distant to my foggy hearing, but I knew he was only steps away.

I breathed in, levelling my voice. There was still the stink of alcohol in the air.

‘I’ll never let anyone hurt you. You will always call me when you feel scared.’

There was a glint in her eyes. Confusion. And then, clarity.

‘Promise me.’ I shook her shoulders. She nodded vigorously, holding her sobs back, as if giving me the strength to do so as well. I gave her a small but remorseful smile, brushing away her curls. Her lips trembled as mine did, too. I had to let her go. A cold gust of wind blew away her warmth on my fingertips.

She backed away. I stood up and grounded myself for what was to come. Seeing her trying not to cry made me stand taller.

‘Good. I’ll be back soon.’

And our promise was sealed.

Gemini

A flash of light jolts me from my memory.

The warmth of Hannah and small Annabelle sandwiches me in the middle of the Walkers’ pastel couch. The fact that I am sitting snugly inside a house owned by a family you’ll usually find on the front cover of a magazine, sickens me.

Our house is amongst these identical pastel blue in this picture-perfect neighbourhood. With the picket white fence complete with a basket of tulips, a series of open windows with bright colourful curtains and a warm fireplace, its fire never ceases from the coldest winter. Passers-by hear a father’s hearty laugh, a mother’s lilting singing, and children’s playful giggles. They are oblivious to what happens after the sun sets. Behind that facade, lies the truth. The father comes home from work, already drunk, the mother is barely alive with all the burden that she has to endure, the children’s needs are abandoned, forgotten. The sun delivers and then it seizes.

The irony is too real. I am hurting, Hannah is hurting, Mother is hurting. Father just keeps losing his mind over his wretched, wistful, twisted dream that has gone down in flames years before. I look down at the small human in my arms, sleeping soundly, quietly cooing and yawning almost too innocently as the storm rages outside the window — it rages inside of me.

If we can’t smile happily with our family, then why should you?

Lightning cuts through the dark sky clotted with clouds.

If we never reach a moment of peace, our moment of Nirvana, then why should you?

The sound of thunder rings in my ears.

If we can’t have happiness, then why should you?

At the last thought, my arms slacken as the tempest takes over.

Hannah

Hannah wakes up, a shiver slithering up her spine.

At the strangeness picked up by her senses, she jolts into a sitting position. Her whole body is drenched in her own sweat, blanketed in layers of unfamiliar plaid fabrics. The floor, the walls, the bed, sway.

She looks up at the ceiling. The overwhelming plaids on top of her she shoves off.

She is recollecting her memory. She tries to wreck her brain for answers, dead end. Glancing beside her, she finds her sister lying in bed, eyes still shut. Though that tricks Mother plenty of times, she has never bought it. She shakes Gemini’s shoulders. Her twin opens her eyes with a small grumble.

‘And they say I’m a liar.’

Gemini frowns, running her fingers through her bed hair.

Hannah starts to look around the small space containing them: the short wooden ceiling, so short that her curls touch them as she sits tall on the bed; the wood-panelled walls, painted in white, or at least they used to be pure white, now they are smattered with patches of grey; a veil of blue curtains that appear to be glowing from within, as if cast by a large torch from behind; the floor disappears under the piles of t-shirts, cargo pants, and a mix of colourful socks. There is even a sticky substance staining the floor beside the bed. Hannah hopes it is just some spilled untended wine from long ago.

‘Where are we?’ Hannah asks.

Gemini has already turned her back from her as she shifts into a more comfortable position.

There is a rustle of bright blue curtains, a flicker of noon light from above, and a figure steps in. A shock of ocean blue eyes and a ruffle of blond.

‘You’re in my boat,’ he says with a grin. ‘Welcome again to my humble abode.’

Gemini jerks awake at the sound of this man that has just entered the small space. Hannah takes note of this odd behaviour of hers, eyebrow raised.

‘He’s Ian. He’s a friend of ours. I’ll tell the rest to you later,’ Gemini whispers hastily. She gets up and moves quickly to Ian, already starting small talk.

‘Huh,’ Hannah mumbles. She follows them out as the curtains flutter behind them. The sun is already high up. There is a four-seat table, set for a decent breakfast¾or brunch?¾place.

‘Lunch is served.’ He gestures at the only plate placed on the tiny, wobbly surface.

Despite being the only plate, it is stuffed with a large lobster surrounded by an assortment of broccoli, asparagus and string beans. The three of them dig into it almost immediately.

The boat bobs up and down beneath them.

Hannah

Hannah does not get seasick, despite not ever having sailed.

Gemini, on the other hand, doesn’t look as good. She is chanting, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. She isn’t. She chokes and coughs up the lunch they have barely devoured an hour ago. Ian tells them that he needs to unload his catch to the market. But his worried eyes linger on the two as Gemini finally gives in to the nausea.

‘Gem, maybe we should just go home…,’ Hannah says. She holds up Gemini’s usually bound locks, now an unkempt, wind-swept coil.

Gemini coughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her voice croaks when she does reply. ‘No, we can’t.’ She closes her eyes, gulping on nothing but air. ‘Not like this.’

‘What do you mean “Not like this”?’

Gemini doesn’t answer. A new wave of retching comes up to her mouth.

They spend the entire day trying to soothe Gemini’s seasickness. She insists that Hannah not go beyond the boat, not that the latter would leave her sister in this kind of condition alone.

Ian returns at sunset just as Gemini is drifting off to her third attempt to sleep that day. Hannah touches her arms. They are covered in cold sweat. She wraps them in a new cloth. Gemini whispers a ‘thank you’. Hannah goes outside where Ian is sitting on the edge of the boat, staring at the blood orange sky and the birds passing ahead. She settles beside him, her legs dangling below the edge.

‘The sun delivers and then it seizes,’ Ian prompts out of the blue.

Hannah stays silent, too perplexed that the familiar statement could be delivered by a guy so foreign to her. The curtains move slightly as Gemini’s head pokes out of it. She steps into the evening breeze, coughing but seeming to have recovered from the repeated waves. She has the plaid blanket over her, almost engulfing wholly. Beads of sweat still fall from her forehead but her green eyes look at Hannah with their usual calmness.

‘Feeling better?’ Ian questions, to which Gemini nods curtly. ‘I’ll get you some tea. Just stay seated there.’

Hannah pats a little space for Gemini. But she stands still, her eyes fixed on Hannah’s. A mixture of sadness and regret swims in her gaze. The wind blows over and her hair veils her face.

‘What’s wrong?’ asks Hannah.

Gemini doesn’t answer, though her lips twitch just a little. Her eyes finally set themselves on the disappearing sun at the edge of the horizon. As it descends even deeper, she vanishes past the curtains and lets the question hang like the thick air of summer swathing Hannah. Ian comes back and hands the cup over to Hannah. She reluctantly takes it, frowning at the gesture, but he doesn’t seem to notice. She starts to get up, wanting to bring comfort to her sister.

‘Thanks for all of this, Ian.’ Hannah smiles at him, tasting his name in her tongue. It feels so unfamiliar, yet…right.

He grins and shrugs. She brushes her lips against his cheek before hurrying into the small room, to prevent him from glimpsing her reddened cheeks. Her giddiness fades as she finds Gemini perched on the bed, seemingly unaware of Hannah’s presence. Gemini’s fingers are gripping the bed sheets to anchor herself in this never-ending lull and ebb. Hannah curls up beside the frail figure she has become familiar with, enveloping her sister, the great unfamiliarity of their jobs in reverse disturbing her.

Hannah

It’s been a whole week since they last landed somehow in this tiny but charming boat of Ian’s. Hannah has been keeping herself busy most days, mostly to avoid her curiosity creeping and seeping into her bones. She unloads crates of seafood goods and makes their breakfast, lunch and dinner without miraculously burning the whole boat. She cleans Ian’s net before he sets to the seas at night and checks on Gemini, waking up in the middle of the night, bucket ready. Still, her instruction doesn’t waver: Don’t go beyond the boat. Day after day, that is all she says to Hannah. Nothing else.

Hannah grows more and more unrest along with the sun setting quicker and quicker. She finds herself stepping off the boat and down the stone path she has gone through about a million times before. Ian is tying knots over a small pole, preparing for his usual leave.

‘Hey, do you have a minute?’ She stands next to him.

He seems to have gone taut at the tone of her voice. He tilts his head. His left eyebrow arches but he sits on one of the barrels lying around. She chooses her next words carefully, afraid that any of these words will cause a turmoil.

‘What happened that night?’

There is a strange silence, which she only notices when wind runs between them, louder than ever.

Ian stares at her. He is making the same face as her sister did the other night, but there is something else: guilt, regret, sorrow…? He rolls over another barrel and motions for her to sit down. She does.

‘How much do you remember?’ he asks her.

Another gust blows.

‘Nothing, I suppose.’

‘You must’ve remembered something.’

‘I… I blacked out at the Walkers’.’ She starts scratching the skin on her upper arm, swallowing a lump in her throat. ‘There was a storm.’

Ian nods but doesn’t reply. Overhead, the clouds seem to stir as pieces of vegetables would in thick soup.

‘Gemini took Annabelle. I dozed off. The next morning, there was you.’

‘There was me.’

‘I know that Gemini told you something.’

He takes Hannah’s silence as a sign that it is his turn to have explain.

‘Yeah, she told me.’ He pauses. ‘How much would you like to know?’

‘Everything.’ Her voice wavers. A hint of frustration sinks in and the scratches become more frantic. ‘I’ve been kept in the dark. My sister has never kept me in the dark. I need to know, Ian.’

At this, he nods.

‘I met her a few years ago. That day was like that night, and like today.’ He nods at the dark skies above. ‘I was in a hard spot with the wrong crowd when she stopped me.’ He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes trained on the ground. ‘I guess you could say she saved me.’

Hannah stays quiet, not knowing what this has to do with her but she keeps quiet.

‘That night, she looked distraught. It looked like she’d been crying. That was the first time I saw her ever showing a sign of weakness.’

The clouds rumble in the dark, lightning crackling.

Dread curls round Hannah’s spine. She aches to go back to Gemini and curl beside her, but she has to know.

‘She said to me if anything happened to her, I’d need to take care of you. Then, she fainted on the sidewalk.’ He leans back with his eyes still fixed on her. ‘Hannah, she told me everything. You told me everything. You saved me.’

‘What are you talking about?’

Raindrops start to fall on Hannah’s cheeks. Cold seeps into her skin, but not the kind from the rain. A memory surfaces in her mind. There, she sees her with him, only, they are both younger. She is handing him a piece of bread and a couple of coins before running to shelter herself from the rain.

The boy asked, his eyes shimmering with wetness, ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Hannah. Who are you?’

Hannah staggers back. Her head spins. That couldn’t have been her. The memory is fresh on her mind, but it feels like she has been awakened from a deep sleep.

‘Hannah,’ Ian calls to her.

All of the sudden, she is plunging in the dark. The dark has never been quiet and it will not be, now. She is taken to her home, the creaky walls and floor panels, the rusted nails sticking out and Mother whimpering as quietly as she can. Father’s ragged breathing and his belt striking the floor then Mother. She rushes to her side. A clap like thunder in her ears. The sharp, branding pain scorched on her nape, from which the belt snakes down her back, the metal clasp, blood-crusted, clinking against the hardwood.

‘Get away from her,’ he growled.

‘You get away.’

She clutches the fabric to her chest. Her lungs burn as if brimming with water. Ian is shaking her shoulders, calling out to her, but his voice sounds so distant and far away.

The next memory is the first time Father came home drunk. She looked so small and weak. Instead of making a promise to Gemini, she was crying in the corner by herself. There is no twin to save her.

‘Promise me,’ she whispered to herself. ‘You will never let anyone hurt you. Promise me, please.’ Then, she got up. ‘I will never let anyone hurt me.’

‘ — ah! Hannah!’ A voice rings in her ears. Hands settle on the sides of her face.

She blinks. Her eyelid feels heavy with the droplets hanging onto her lashes. Her cheeks are wet; the cold of rain, the warmth of new tears. The tang of blood inside her mouth. Her throat opens and she gulps in the air greedily, choking and coughing on most of it.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Gemini…’ Her voice is hoarse, as if she has been screaming. She stares past Ian, at the boat. From this vantage, it almost seems lonely and deserted, without any signs of life. She imagines the curtains possessing a blue ten shades darker as they fly open, showing a gaping hole. ‘She… She is…’

Ian doesn’t respond, sliding his hands over her shoulders, helping her to steady herself on the hollow barrel. She trains her eyes on him, wanting to take another answer than what she has been given. He shakes his head slowly, his lips pursed.

What does another word matter? Hannah has learnt the truth, just like she wanted. What happens when the truth is something she can’t accept?

‘She…’ The taste of iron cuts her tongue. ‘She’s not real.’

She notices the slight change in Ian’s face, something that reflects remorse and lost. He moves his head down slightly. She shoves him away, wipes her eyes with her soaked arm, and runs to the path that will take her home. She hears Ian call after her, but her legs keep pumping until she notices the modest coffeeshop she visited the other day. In her mind, she can almost see her and Gemini laughing by the window as they try the new addition to the menu. The image dissolves as her memory corrects itself, into just her sitting alone by the window, alternating her hairdo from swept back to pigtails. Trying to become more than her for herself.

It is raining harder. Two large clouds hang overhead, so close to each other they become one.

She is gasping for warmth but all she can swallow is the icy condensed air. Her eyelids flutter open then close as the sound of the drizzling rain consumes her. Her mind wants her to take flight but her legs don’t seem to understand her. Where shall she go now?

She can’t breathe. Her clothes are as drenched as her hair. She just wants to go home. Where is home? Her legs give away. She is sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, her arms hugging her knees to her chest, desperately longing for the safe haven Gemini has always given. Just once more.

‘Gem… Please, help me…,’ she sobs, her lungs heavy.

‘Please, please…,’ she recites, her voice breaking with every plea. ‘Gem…’

It takes a while for her to notice that the rain has stopped, or at least, there the drops have stopped drumming on her head. She blinks.

An umbrella.

She looks up for the owner. Horror and rage and sorrow boil her blood when she sees his face.

‘Father.’

Alanza

Alanza has not seen daylight for two days now. She has been keeping all of it to herself, quite literally. Who can blame her? Her daughter has gone missing. Not one person has seen her for a whole week, except for the police who came around to question her missing daughter. They were requested by a neighbour from a babysitting incident. That was such a peculiar sight, especially when they investigated further into the house and found signs of abuse. Alanza was taken to the clinic afterwards, not for work nor for her monthly check-up; she was met with a friend of hers, Mine. Mine is a psychiatrist and is now assigned to her. They have been meeting daily just a day after Hannah’s disappearance and the family secret becomes public.

‘How are we doing today, Ally?’ Mine always starts, her smile stretches too wide to be sincere and her eyes cast a shadow of worry. Alanza dismisses all these as she smiles back, a mask she’s worn for years now.

‘I’m fine. How are you?’

‘I am quite well. Thank you for asking.’

This exchange just repeats itself back and forth for each and every day. Of course, one can only be so strong before the facade deteriorates and they unveil their true persona. Alanza feels that today may just be that day. The clock hanging above the fireplace ticks to place, a door knock, the familiarity washing her awake like the dripping rain outside. She saunters to the door, not even bothering to look through the keyhole, and opens it. Her lips part to greet Mine but her breath hitches when she sees the two figures, clearly not her psychiatrist friend.

‘Ally…,’ the man whispers. His voice rough, his breath short and are those tears running down his cheeks? Alanza doesn’t move, can’t even take another breath as she fixes her eyes to the younger figure. She has turned into stone. Her legs and arms are numb, and her head loses the flow of blood. ‘Ally, please…’

‘M-mother…’

That is all she needs. She rushes to her daughter, bringing her closer and closer until she’s wrapped like the little baby she held twenty-two years ago. She doesn’t bother the cold and wet soaking into her favorite nightgown, or that her toes are sinking in the mud. Her daughter is back. And she’s never letting her go again.

Cedric

It is quite the sight. Mother and daughter reunite under the pouring rain and the rising moonlight. The look of horror his wife made when she saw him had melted into the love and joy she is now radiating her whole life when she rests her eyes upon their daughter. He stands there, the rain hitting his slumped back, unable to move as the skies seem to punish him. It has been a rough week without the signs of forgiveness from his wife and Pim rejecting all of his orders at the pub.

‘Ya daughter is missing. The last thing ya need is a bot’el a’ whiskey,’ he said earlier.

It was pure luck when he found Hannah in the middle of the road, clutching her head down to her knees as if waiting for a car to swerve by and it wouldn’t matter anymore. He saw her as the little girl whom he’d bought a teddy bear years ago. She’d smiled a toothy grin, only for it to be taken just as quickly in just a count of days. At that moment, something shifted inside of him. An unveiling, a revelation. He saw himself hurting his wife and daughter, their faces painted in fear and dread. He doesn’t like that feeling, but he knows better; he doesn’t need to like it for it to exist. He didn’t need to see her face, she was shuddering as they walked home in silence, the rain ringing in their ears.

He stares at his family, rejoicing in the return of what was once lost yet he’s still standing alone. Alanza seems to have woken up from her renewed happiness as she turns to him abruptly.

‘S-stay away from my daughter,’ she hisses in a way she has never spoken before. Her voice is sharp and angry, burning through the humid air.

Lightning strikes above their heads. She brings Hannah closer to her, slowly backing to the front door.

‘What is all this?’ a stranger’s voice asks behind him.

Cedric stumbles in a daze, too stunned by how Alanza treats him.

The unfamiliar person rushes to Alanza’s side. Her wide eyes fixate on Alanza, then on Hannah. ‘Are you alright?’ she asks.

‘Who is this?’ Cedric finds his voice, this time it comes out harsh just as his usual tone would be after a day at work. Alanza flinches but keeps her eyes pierced into his. The stranger lady stands up to her full height, which is not much to begin with. Yet, her petite body seems to size up to Cedric’s tall frame.

‘My apologies. It seems we haven’t been properly introduced.’ She brushes the rain that dots the sleeves of her blazer. ‘My name is Mine Sato. You must be Mr. Neven.’

They shake hands but the tension is still wound taut between them.

‘Well, then,’ says Mine. ‘I’m sure we can resolve this as adults. Let’s head inside, shall we?’

Alanza

The house has never been this cheery. Alanza is out in the garden, tending her long-abandoned plants, replacing the weeds with seeds of flowers and trees. Mine grabs the hose, sparkling some water to the planted ones.

‘Daffodils?’ Hannah asks. In her hand she holds a seed packet Alanza picked up earlier today. She strides towards her mother, crouching down to pour the seeds out. Alanza stops her.

‘You don’t want to plant them all at once.’ She digs a hole, then places one seed gingerly inside before burying it. ‘One by one, dear.’

Cedric

When the sun sets, he sets foot on their front porch. Something seems different with their house. The fresh sky-blue paint, the flowers blooming, the remaining sun brushing a delicate veil over it all. Cedric doesn’t pay attention to it all. His eyes are at the two figures sitting by the porch, a cup in each of their right hands. There is an empty seat beside them. He opens his mouth but decides on a hesitant smile instead, already starting to head inside. Alanza takes his hand.

‘Welcome home, Cedric.’

Hannah

The hand ticks to one. Another hour passes with a dozen tosses and turns. Hannah sits up. From where she’s sitting, she has the view of the docks. Few fishermen are coming and going after their ventures at the sea. She searches for a blond then reaches towards her sister’s bed only to find her lips meeting the floor with a loud thud.

Ouch. Her sister would say, helping her get up. Then, she and Hannah would spend the rest of the night looking at the fishermen, possibly finding Ian in one of their boats. But no, Gemini’s not here.

Hannah brushes herself off the floor and props near her desk. Gemini would make fun of her scrawly chicken handwriting over the opened notebooks and pages of textbooks. But she’s never here. Her fingers run through her diary pages Gemini would mock her for. In her mind, she’s already flinging books around the room, her arms sore with all the throwing. Outside, her tears puddle then they overflow, her fingers clutching and crumpling empty pages yet to be written.

Gemini is never real. She realizes that. Leaving yesterday for tomorrow has never been easy.

Hannah

The ceramic bowl on top of the fireplace has been removed a long time ago, before the beatings start. Before Gemini. When exactly, Hannah doesn’t remember. This morning, however, she finds her reflection in the familiar bowl. It sits there quietly as if nothing has happened in between its disappearance and sudden reappearance. Hannah walks to it, her steps reluctant, afraid any of her moves would shatter it into a million pieces. She notices the pattern, something she has seen before but something’s changed. A gold line. More than just a line: a bind.

‘I found a way to fix it.’

Hannah turns to Ms. Sato, her suit has been replaced by a more casual fit, her smile easier. She’s been around, helping them to get back on their feet. She saunters to the ceramic, her eyes running through it, a ghost of a smile in her lips.

‘I never noticed it was broken before.’

‘That’s because your mother took every piece of it and hid it. But look at it now, a work of art presented to the world.’ Ms. Sato smiles at Hannah, then heads for the door.

There is a picture framed beside the bowl. It’s her, Father and Mother, all with an uncertain smile on their faces. This was taken a year ago. But today, they are ready to take on the world. Together.

Hannah

Dear Gemini,

It’s been a while. Well, a year and two days, to be exact. A lot of things have happened after you. It’s weird being here all alone without you. I kept waiting for you to knock on my door. Then, I’d let you in. We’d have hot cocoa, reading by the fireplace. Rainy days seem harder to get by without you. It’s just so wrong without you. I wonder if this is what lost really means; how lost really feels like.

Was this how Mr. and Mrs. Walkers felt when their baby fell and injured herself? Distraught, desperate, hopeless. Little Abel was barely awake when they rushed her to the hospital that night. She woke up the next day to her sobbing parents and she’s turning two this week. The Walkers told me it wouldn’t be easy to forgive me, let alone to leave their baby with an “amateur babysitter”. I wouldn’t have understood how it must’ve felt, to almost lose their only child.

Ms. Sato came again this morning. She’s been taking care of us. Mother has grown fond of her. They go to the market together every Sunday. I think Mother’s finally found peace and happiness that we could never really give her.

I should tell you about Father. You should know. He’s been attending a local rehab. He’s been… trying. He’s trying to stop his alcohol addiction. He’s trying to make amends with Mother and I; we have to try once more, however much it hurts.

We’ve been okay. We’re okay. At least that’s what everyone keeps on telling us. To tell you the truth, I don’t feel okay. I don’t feel okay without you. But you were never here, weren’t you? That’s okay, Gem. You can rest. I’ll be okay one day. And when that day comes, I’ll be the one keeping myself safe.

The sun delivers and then it seizes, but we’ll always have tomorrow to hope for.