Disclaimer: I don't own CATS.

A/N: I'm sorry, guys. :/ I'm a little bit in shock at the moment. Just… anyone who reads my stuff, I'm so glad I have you. You don't even know. Thank you.

The pretender has fair hair and blue eyes,

The pretender is wearing a clever disguise.

Jemima is in her room. It's only a little room, but it seems so big.

It is her new world.

And she belongs to this world, her mind and memories subjected to it.

She remembers the emotions. How she choked on them, how they slid around her neck and deprived her of a way to breathe. How it felt as if the air around her was suddenly tight.

"This is a joke," she had said weakly, her lips moving into a smile to hide the shock. "Right? Just a game?"

"Yeah, it's a game," they said. "Now, go put your shoes on and find the flowers."

It was too much for Jemima. She wiped her mind black. A clean slate. She stood, flowers clutched in her hands, shoes she couldn't walk in strapped to her feet, the sound of cicadas pressing in on her. Oh god, what's happening? She'd tripped over her feet on the way in. She'd been scolded for walking too fast. She'd almost dropped the flowers. I need to stop thinking.

And the way the pretty queen had smiled at her daddy dearest had stopped Jemima's heart.

And when the pretty queen's daughter had read some gushy poem, she realized that it wasn't a game. They'd lied to her. Tricked her. Kept it hidden for the mere purpose of shocking her.

And then the ring had appeared and the pretty queen tilted her head up for a kiss and Jemima looked away. They caught that on camera, too.

It moved very quickly. Vows had been spoken, papers had been signed, photos had been taken (and Jemima smiled, her eyes glazed over) and now the mothers and fathers were done crying, it was time to eat.

The food was tasteless. Eat, Jemima. She did. She ate so much she was sick.

And as she stood up, done eating, the pretty queen leant in. "I'm so glad you're my daughter," the pretty queen smiled prettily, and Jemima just smiled numbly.

But you're not my mother.

Cats that weren't her siblings hugged her tight, muttering in her ear about how, oh, we're so happy that you're my official sister, Jemima. It was like Jemima was a souvenir. Snap a photo, another memory made remembered. Jemima's glazed-over eyes stamping each one.

When Jemima told a "friend", the friend laughed in a breathy sort of way. "Oh, wow," the "friend" said. "Gosh, I'm… well, I'm shocked. I'm so happy for you! So happy for them."

Jemima laughed weakly. "Uh… yeah, me too."

And the topic had moved on to something so irrelevant that Jemima spoke on autopilot.

Jemima spoke to a friend a little later. In a small voice, she'd said, "Electra. Electra…"

And Electra had looked up in that irritated way she always did.

"They… they made it official. They're mated."

And Electra had stood up and held Jemima. Because Electra understood that no one deserved something like this, something that was so vast within her own world deserved to be thrust upon her in the way it was.

I needed some time to think about it. But you didn't give it to me.

"I've lost my respect for them," Electra said flatly.

And Jemima had looked down. "My mind was blank. And now… now all I can think of is my mum." Jemima closed her eyes. "The real one."

Now, Jemima rolls over on her bed so that she faces the wall. She is alone because her dad and the pretty queen are having their time alone.

Before they have to return to the daughter that only halfway belongs to them.

She stares at the wall. Everything in her life is new now. She wasn't allowed to prepare. And now she can't deal with it. She holds her head in her hands.

Now she cries the tears that she was forced to direct to her heart earlier.

Jemima tells herself that she is excited. But it impossible to tell oneself how to feel.

The pretender is not who she is not.

And I'm sorry – I'm pretending too.