I remember my sister. My twin, they would say, but I wouldn't. We weren't twins. Not really.
We would play together all the time. We would share sentences. Sometimes I was the older sister. Sometimes she was. Sometimes I was the good girl, other times, she was. Everyone knew we were sisters from the start. My twin, they would say, but I wouldn't.
My sister liked to tell stories and make rhymes, and I liked to sing songs to them. Our favorite place was a meadow in the woods to the left of our home. There was a river that ran through it, and we would play games there. Sometimes I was a hunter and she was a deer. Sometimes I was a maiden being held captive, and she was a brave princess trying to rescue me.
In town, we would buy candies and paper and pencils. We would eat and draw and write, sending letters down the river in hopes that some brave knight would save us.
I can't remember if we had many friends in town. They liked us, but we didn't play with them all that often. My sister was braver than I was, and I would hide behind her when the kids wanted to talk to us. My twin, they would say, but I wouldn't.
As we grew older, my sister changed. I didn't notice. I trusted her. Instead of playing like I was the deer and she was the hunter (or visaversa), she wanted us to hunt real deer. We would hit it with rocks, until it fell. She would break its legs. I looked at its eyes as it screamed in pain and I looked away, trying to ignore the sounds of breaking and slicing. I tried harder to ignore my sister's giggling. I turned back to look at the deer. Its eyes were dead now.
I said nothing.
We chased a boy into the woods. My sister promised to give him a kiss, so he agreed to join us. And we chased him. We took his shoes and his socks and blinded him. My sister said to chase him until he fell. We thought we lost him, but his feet were bleeding, so we followed the blood. And he finally fell. I turned away as my sister broke his bones. I didn't look at his eyes. I ignored his screams. And my sister's giggles.
Again, I said nothing.
We chased boys in the woods, because deer were boring. We promised them kisses, and they followed us to the meadow. We chased them until their feet bled and they fell to the ground. My sister would break them and steal the light in their eyes. Each time, she let the screams grow louder and continue longer. Each time I said nothing.
My twin, they would say, but I wouldn't.
Until one evening, I wanted to ask, "Why are we chasing these boys?"
"Boys are bad." She said, "They follow girls into the woods at night and hurt them."
"Would you ever hunt me?" I asked.
"Never, little sister." She hugged me tight. So tight, I almost couldn't breathe, "But I'll hunt anyone who would hurt you, because I love you."
"I love you, too." I would say, because I did.
An early morning in the meadow, we decided to climb the trees over looking the river. I would chase my sister higher and higher. I wasn't as good at climbing as she was, and I fell in.
I don't remember ever swimming out of the river, but my sister was looking over me, holding me tight and crying. She said I almost drowned.
From that day on, she was less brave. She hid behind me while I talked to the people in town. I would promises the kisses to the boys, but she would still break them.
When we had to leave, I was the one who wrote the note to our mother and father. We both signed it.
We traveled the road for many nights, eating leaves or berries or rodents on the side of the road. It was cold and no matter how tightly we hugged each other, it didn't warm.
There was a small house along the road. I knocked on the door and asked if we could stay.
"And who are you?" asked the old woman who answered the door.
"Tired." I said. My throat was dry.
The woman nodded and let us in. She offered us food and a bed that we shared. We whispered to each other in the night, making up rhymes and stories. Quietly, so we didn't wake the old woman. I was always polite. I fell asleep first.
I woke in the morning, and my sister was gone. I was scared, and went to the old womans room to find her. My sister was in the room, the old woman was dead. We took some bread and cheese and left, following the road.
A man in a large, black carriage led by two brown horses stopped us on the road. He looked me right in the eyes.
"Little miss, do you know Mrs. Cray down the road?"
"No sir." I said. My sister shook her head fierously.
"You sure? Old woman, too kind for her own good."
"We stayed the night, I think." I said. He looked at me strangely.
"Right. Where are you headed, then?"
I shrugged, "Not sure. Town, maybe?"
"I'll give you a lift, then."
"He's a boy," my sister hissed. I declined and began down the road. The man didn't follow.
We found a town. A larger one than before. We had no money, but there was a forest with a meadow. We lived there.
The townsfolk would always ask me questions, ask who we were. I gave them mine and my sister's name. Me and Lyssa.
"Whose Lyssa?" They would ask.
My twin, I would say.
But they wouldn't.