Page 117 of The Prodigal Twin


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“Tell Whit and Rowe how much I loved them. Tell them who did it to me.”

“You’ll tell them yourself.” I was being dragged and it would be funny to see someone so small pulling someone my size, but I can’t find any humor at the moment. “It’s going to be cold.”

Her speech was slurred as well, but at least she wasn’t physically harmed.

The cold water hitting my feet woke me up enough to roll into the lake. Everest murmured, “Oh, my God,” as she swam, then everything officially went dark.

The world shifted again. I’m standing at my house in Houston. While a terrible storm rages outside. I hear pounding with a man screaming.

I can hear him better as I get closer. “Let me out! Let me out!”

It’s coming from my bedroom. I pull the door open, but no one is inside. Standing in the middle, I turn slowly to look around. Nothing. When I hear it again, it’s coming from my mirror. I’m not standing in front of it, but I can see myself. I’m bloody and am still wearing the life vests.

“Let me out!”

I move in front of the mirror as the Walt I’ve been, staring at the Walt I was. Our eyes lock. It hurts to see myself looking like the pictures I refused to see over the years. Once after I first woke up was enough for me.

“You saw what she did to us,” my reflection says. “Let me out. Walton Cambridge keeps his promise, and a promise was made.”

I touch the glass, but it’s solid like it’s supposed to be. His request sounds like a chant, prompting me to do what I always do when presented with a boundary. I break it. The glass shatters, freeing the other part of me. He rushes in and pulls me into a hug. It’s not a normal hug. It feels like we’re melding together. I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t me, so I’m not surprised when I hear the once trapped part of myself grumble.

“It’s about fucking time. What took so fucking long?”

Impatient would be my middle name if I had one.

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