bags and I unlock the door.
"Thank you," I whisper before I close the door and rush to my sister's room.
F IVE
London
I know I'm dreaming, but I can't make myself wake up.
My throat burns. My eyes burn. My skin burns. Smoke surrounds me in a red and orange hue. I'm screaming but the smoke chokes the sound.
I crawl on the floor, searching. I can't stop looking. I won't leave without finding her.
My chest aches with the need for air. The smell of my childhood home burning fills my lungs instead of the oxygen I desperately need. The room is so hot. I feel my skin burning like when I've been in the sun for too long.
Every step forward hurts. I keep pushing forward because my other half is still here somewhere. I'm so scared but I'm more scared of never finding her.
I feel like I'm being split in half. Torn apart and scattered into pieces.
Tears drip down my cheeks but they dry instantly in the heat. I keep screaming but I can only hear the crackling and hissing of the walls.
My head spins and the colors of red and orange blur together. The colors swirl and mix. Orange, yellow, red, and black.
A scream finally rips from me and I gasp fresh air.
"London," Brooklyn says in my ear as her arms wrap around my chest.
"Shit," I pant. The relief rushing through me is welcome and overwhelming.
"Just a dream," she whispers, hugging me tightly.
We fall back down to my bed as my heart pounds in my chest. I'm breathing heavily like I had been holding my breath. Or in a smoke filled house.
"Why are you in my bed?" I ask when I can breathe again.
"There was a storm last night. I came in after work."
I vaguely remember Brooklyn crawling in with me last night. I took a sleeping pill in an attempt to sleep through the storm, but I still kept waking up to the thunder.
I sigh, sick of always needing Brooklyn to hold me together.
"Go back to bed," I say as I get up. She probably got in only hours ago.
In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face. My eyes burn from the lack of sleep and they look bloodshot. My hair is a wild mess but I can't bring myself to do a damn thing about it right now. I feel dead on my feet despite spending all night at home.
I shuffle into the kitchen for coffee and hear muffled voices in the hall. It only takes a few seconds to recognize one of the voices. Of course he would be here.
I swing open the door and find Miles in the hallway. He's not alone.
Kane is glaring at him as they stand chest to chest. They turn to stare at me when they notice me.
"Brooklyn?" Kane asks.
"London?" Miles says at the same time. "Right?"
Miles brushes the madness of my hair out my eyes to get a good look at my face. I can tell he isn't sure who I am.
Brooklyn and I never made any effort to look different from each other. We could have colored or cut our hair, but we never did. Part of it was because we liked looking identical. We chose other ways to stand out from each other. If people wanted to tell us apart, they needed to actually know us. They couldn’t say 'the one with the short hair'. They’d say the quiet one, or the dancer. London or Brooklyn.
"What is going on?" I ask, my voice raspy.
"Found this guy sleeping outside your door," Kane says. His eyes run up my bare legs, over my thin shirt and back up to my face. "You know him?"
I nod. I'm not surprised to find Miles here. It's Kane whom I'm shocked to see.
"You know this guy?" Miles is looking between us, confused and angry. His eyes take the same path as Kane's did. "You should go inside."
"I did a shoot with him, and I would be inside if you two weren't arguing in the hallway like kids," I snap.
"I came last night in the storm," Miles says, trying to guide me back inside. "You didn't hear me knocking so I waited. And this asshole starts giving me shit for being here."
"You look like some damn creeper waiting outside their apartment."
Kane and Miles glare at each
"Thank you," I whisper before I close the door and rush to my sister's room.
F IVE
London
I know I'm dreaming, but I can't make myself wake up.
My throat burns. My eyes burn. My skin burns. Smoke surrounds me in a red and orange hue. I'm screaming but the smoke chokes the sound.
I crawl on the floor, searching. I can't stop looking. I won't leave without finding her.
My chest aches with the need for air. The smell of my childhood home burning fills my lungs instead of the oxygen I desperately need. The room is so hot. I feel my skin burning like when I've been in the sun for too long.
Every step forward hurts. I keep pushing forward because my other half is still here somewhere. I'm so scared but I'm more scared of never finding her.
I feel like I'm being split in half. Torn apart and scattered into pieces.
Tears drip down my cheeks but they dry instantly in the heat. I keep screaming but I can only hear the crackling and hissing of the walls.
My head spins and the colors of red and orange blur together. The colors swirl and mix. Orange, yellow, red, and black.
A scream finally rips from me and I gasp fresh air.
"London," Brooklyn says in my ear as her arms wrap around my chest.
"Shit," I pant. The relief rushing through me is welcome and overwhelming.
"Just a dream," she whispers, hugging me tightly.
We fall back down to my bed as my heart pounds in my chest. I'm breathing heavily like I had been holding my breath. Or in a smoke filled house.
"Why are you in my bed?" I ask when I can breathe again.
"There was a storm last night. I came in after work."
I vaguely remember Brooklyn crawling in with me last night. I took a sleeping pill in an attempt to sleep through the storm, but I still kept waking up to the thunder.
I sigh, sick of always needing Brooklyn to hold me together.
"Go back to bed," I say as I get up. She probably got in only hours ago.
In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face. My eyes burn from the lack of sleep and they look bloodshot. My hair is a wild mess but I can't bring myself to do a damn thing about it right now. I feel dead on my feet despite spending all night at home.
I shuffle into the kitchen for coffee and hear muffled voices in the hall. It only takes a few seconds to recognize one of the voices. Of course he would be here.
I swing open the door and find Miles in the hallway. He's not alone.
Kane is glaring at him as they stand chest to chest. They turn to stare at me when they notice me.
"Brooklyn?" Kane asks.
"London?" Miles says at the same time. "Right?"
Miles brushes the madness of my hair out my eyes to get a good look at my face. I can tell he isn't sure who I am.
Brooklyn and I never made any effort to look different from each other. We could have colored or cut our hair, but we never did. Part of it was because we liked looking identical. We chose other ways to stand out from each other. If people wanted to tell us apart, they needed to actually know us. They couldn’t say 'the one with the short hair'. They’d say the quiet one, or the dancer. London or Brooklyn.
"What is going on?" I ask, my voice raspy.
"Found this guy sleeping outside your door," Kane says. His eyes run up my bare legs, over my thin shirt and back up to my face. "You know him?"
I nod. I'm not surprised to find Miles here. It's Kane whom I'm shocked to see.
"You know this guy?" Miles is looking between us, confused and angry. His eyes take the same path as Kane's did. "You should go inside."
"I did a shoot with him, and I would be inside if you two weren't arguing in the hallway like kids," I snap.
"I came last night in the storm," Miles says, trying to guide me back inside. "You didn't hear me knocking so I waited. And this asshole starts giving me shit for being here."
"You look like some damn creeper waiting outside their apartment."
Kane and Miles glare at each
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