Tilly on the cold dirt floor gasping for air, staring up at a starless night. In the back of her head, behind the panic, behind the disbelief, is the hope. The hope that someone will hear. Someone will save her. The hope that when her eyes close, they will open again. They do. Once more. But there’s another image. Another person. Swimming in front of Tilly’s vision. “I’m sorry,” they say. “It shouldn’t have turned out like this.” The person’s face comes in and out of focus until I see with perfect clarity. See exactly what Tilly saw. I see myself.
she could be referring to her sister since they ate identical twins
