When She Was Me

by Marlee Bush

But I’ve been tired, and I’ve never thought about murdering our parents. I guess my expression says it all.

“I’ve never hurt anyone.” But the words aren’t true. Not even a little bit. Like you’re thinking it too, you

Who is the real monster out of us two?

Maybe there was a terrible accident, and she’s afraid to tell me. There it is. A beam of light. A rational explanation. Maybe something awful happened that night, but it wasn’t on purpose. Lenora was sleepwalking. She could have done something and woken up frightened and confused. That could mean she wasn’t lying when she said she doesn’t know what happened. She doesn’t know. She only knows it involves her somehow. But then something darker occurs to me. Suddenly, the movie reel plays again. Lenora’s eyes opening. Tilly nudging her. Hey, you OK?

Lenora’s hands shooting out, reaching for her neck, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing— I press my eyes closed with my fingers, pinching the delicate skin there until it hurts. Stop it. Think anything except this. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

But there was something about the person in the bathhouse that was feminine. Their skinny limbs. The way, even though I couldn’t see their eyes, they seemed to watch me in the dark. Something else too. A sense of familiarity between us. Like the shadow I saw on the Blacktop. What if that wasn’t my imagination?

I close my eyes and try to go somewhere else. But where can you go when the worst parts live inside your head? Thin, brittle branches pinching my skin like newborn fingernails. The silhouette of a person under the moon. Glacial fear sluicing through my veins.

Run, Lenora!

“The alternative being that I didn’t see anything at all?” “Like maybe you thought you saw something. Light and shadows can be responsible for all kinds of tricks.”

This time I don’t control my reaction. My hands clench; my eyes squeeze shut. “I don’t really think about it.” “I know you don’t like to. But maybe that’s why this case, this girl, is causing you so much distress? Maybe you see yourself in her. Have you found yourself seeking out similarities, Lenora? Have you found ways to connect yourself to her life?”

“That’s what happened last time. With your neighbor and his wife. You thought her husband was cheating. You saw yourself in her. You saw what you thought was someone taking advantage of another person. You grew to hate him, didn’t you? That hate festered in you. But it wasn’t real, Lenora. It was fabricated.”

“Lenora, you hated him because of a narrative in your mind, do you remember? You had narratives about all your neighbors. None of the things you thought you knew were true. Especially with him.”

“I am a victim. That’s true.” I know it, and yet I’m squirming. Resisting the label like I don’t deserve it. If you hurt someone really badly, can you be a victim too? “Yes, but you’re also a survivor. Your trust was broken by your own mother, a woman whose sole job was to protect you from this world. But she didn’t, did she? Now you find yourself wondering what other people are hiding, what other people are capable of because of that hurt. Isn’t that right, Lenora?” “Yes.” “But that’s one person. Not everyone is like her.”

Why does Lenora hate this woman so much

Probably that I shouldn’t enable her any longer.

If she did it. But who else? Another truth I’m not ready or willing to face. What if there was another person out that night? And what if I loved them? What would that mean for me if Karen was just a grieving mother and the real monster resided even closer?

“At what cost will you stay the same, Cassie?” I shift to look at her and find her staring at me. “If change is what you need, then it’s only natural to give in to it. We all change and grow. You can’t resist it just because there’s comfort in the known.” “You don’t get it.” “So help me understand.”

None of this is about my mother. I hardly think of the woman at all. I know what Cassie says. She likes to point out the good in her and thinks that night was some sort of isolated incident. A mental breakdown or whatever. But Cassie isn’t remembering the buildup. The way Mom checked out and wanted nothing to do with us leading up to what she did.

All this is a step up from her hysteria. The memory of the past hour plays over and over in my head. The utter devastation on her face. The panic. Her fear was real. At least, real to her. But is it real?

“No. Sleepwalking. You’ve done it many times.”

Still, it doesn’t feel right. Sarah’s words from earlier are heavy. Karen’s unwillingness to leave. Surely, if she hurt her daughter, she’d cut her losses and move on. What reason would she have to stay?

“If I were anyone else, would you believe me?”

No I wouldn't believe anyone else either you are losing your grip on reality

“Wait.” I stand too, but I don’t try to reach for her again. I can’t. The chasm that separated us earlier is back. I brought it with me, and it feels like this time it might be here to stay. “I’ll order cameras. Some that stay on inside and out. I’ll order them if it’ll make you feel better.”

There’s another flash of movement, and I look at Cabin Three. Someone is on the front porch. The rocking chair lurches back and forth, and Karen Meadows stares blankly in my direction. That night fifteen years ago flashes in my head. A glint of silver. A river of red. Everything Lenora and I did after. Neither Karen nor I look away. Until I back away and close the curtains.

I don't know what is real or fake anymore is Karen really out there?

Daphne’s voice is in my head. Her soothing tone asking why this bothers me so much. The boyfriend thing. But it’s not the fact she has a boyfriend but the fact she lied about it.

She looks away. “No, Sarah told her.” The way she says her name. Sarah. I can’t put my finger on why I don’t like it.

You are delusional

Like I’m a child who requires supervision.

You do need supervision...you are fucking losing it hour by hour you need to go out into the world

“Cassie?” “Yes?” “You’ve been acting different.”

She has been acting different no you won't tell her the truth about anything so what do you expect

I

thought I knew her as well as myself. Maybe I don’t really know her at all.

Do you really even know yourself?

“What did you do? What did you do to her?” My breath is choked, my breathing uneven. I couldn’t answer if I wanted to, but I can see. Karen leaning over me, pure hatred on her face. “What did you do?”

Is this real?

“You have to finally tell the truth. I know it was you. I know you keep coming into my cabin.” “I—”

Karen... you're going into her cabin too both of you are losing it

Shooting me a half smile like she actually cares.

allow yourself to have friends it may help ground you

And they’re there. The answers Karen wants. All the answers are in the night Tilly went missing. The feeling of running through the woods. Another person with me. Smiling at me. The face of this person is blurry. It’s been blurry. But like a pixelated image, it slowly clicks into focus, and I see Tilly. My stomach turns. Why do I see Tilly? The images come faster now. Tilly running. Me—me, what? Me chasing?

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,”

Get her to a doctor

But there’s the night fifteen years ago.

can we finally just see what happened that night

I watch the sweat trickle down his neck into his collar and imagine it’s his skin peeling back from his body. It’s an absurd thought, but it’s distracting enough to make me laugh. Distracting enough to make me forget your words three nights ago. Your joke about killing our parents. It still makes my stomach roll even now.

Jesus. I am guessing Cassie is speaking since it seems like Lenora would want to kill her mother

It only takes a second of searching to see where the feeling is coming from. Across the aisle and a row kitty-corner behind us. The breath is knocked completely out of me as my eyes connect with Joan Wellesley’s. Now the only skin peeling from a body is my own. She’s doing it to me, peeling me layer by layer with only her gaze, and it hurts. It hurts to remember what happened last summer. It’s shocking to see her.

Don’t know what those girls did, they murmur to one another, but they did something. Something is not quite right with that family. The rumors died a little after the police cleared us, but they’ll pick up again no doubt with Joan being back.

But she is, and so are the burns on the left side of her face. The uneven red skin perpetually puckered, forever blistered. Her hair is perfectly coiled and styled in blond ringlets; her outfit is designer, and her makeup is immaculate. But I can’t see past the scars.

So did Lenora light her on 🔥

“Do you really believe coming to church is enough to absolve you?”

“Look at me,” she says. “The least you can do is look at what you did. Maybe your sister—”

“I know it was her. I saw her.” “No. We didn’t—she didn’t do anything.” I’m careful with my words, careful with my memories of that night. “The police know it. Your parents know it. We were at home.”

So Lenora set Joans home on fire

I don’t give Joan another glance, but I hear her whispered words before the door closes behind us: “You know what you did.”

“She said she saw you. That it was your fault.” I don’t add the other part. I saw too. I saw much more than I should have. More than I ever wanted. I don’t know if following you that night was the best or worst choice I ever made. I got to save you, even if it broke me to do it.

“Yes,” I say. “The truth.” You disappearing behind the house. The flames. The screams. The surprise on your face when you saw me. “Accident. You know I wouldn’t have done that on purpose.”

“But Kate,” I say. “I always thought—I mean, she wasn’t always very nice to you.” The memories of Joan’s sister are fresh. The ways she used to respond to you on the bus, so snippy and sarcastic. Her laughter when you walked past.

“I don’t know what I have to do to prove to you it was an accident. I never in a million years thought I’d have to prove anything.”

Your sister realizes it isn't an accident you did this you made this happen... Lenora you are insane

I just want to protect you. That’s all I care about.

Protect her from what? from having a life because you can't?!?

Even after I cause you to break down, you’re still in perfect control. Like all the times Kate was mean to you on the bus. It never seemed to bother you as much as it did me. Like you knew something we didn’t. I always thought you were confident and aware of your own self-worth even when she wasn’t. I didn’t know how hard you took her words. Not until it was too late, and Kate was already gone.

“Did you see the way he was holding—” She doesn’t let me finish. The first slap catches me off guard. It shouldn’t, but it does. It’s the second slap that I brace myself for. The third that I revel in. The fourth that cuts my cheek.

Damn harsh