Elsa's morning routine was always consistent, like a well-oiled machine. Her natural circadian rhythm would wake her up approximately ten minutes before the 6am alarm clock, and she would promptly shake off the warm comfort of her bed and rise to do her morning exercises - one hundred pull-ups, one hundred pushups, one hundred crunches, and one hundred burpees, along with a forty-five minute high intensity sprint workout, followed by a ten minute cool down.
Every day of her world was the same.
Constant.
Steady.
Unchanging.
Glistening with sweat, she would enter the bathroom and shower for about twenty minutes. She would scrub every crevice of her taut form, cleansing and rejuvenating her skin with tea tree body wash, and would wash her lush, healthy hair with the finest shea butter shampoo and conditioner. Once finished, she would step out into the steamy bathroom, and in her fog-free body length mirror, she would study her fit figure, rotating slowly as she inspected her body closely.
Everyday Elsa followed her strict facial skin care routine of deep oil cleansing, exfoliating with a lactic acid wipe, splashing on refreshing toner, moisturizing with organic lotion, and applying a thin layer of sunscreen for protection, though she rarely spent her time outdoors.
As Elsa gently rubbed the last remnants of sunscreen into her soft, supple cheek, she thought about the world she lived in. In order for someone like her to survive in this cold, calculating world, a morning routine like this was essential. This world was judging, shallow, self-indulgent, selfish and full of greed. And after many years of perfecting her art, she had this world in the palm of her hand.
She leaned back and observed her bare body one last time, thinking about just how important her looks, appearance and behaviors were. In this world, they were her ultimate tools; her life's work depended on how people perceived her and what they thought of her, because she wasn't just influencing people and gaining their trust; she was essentially selling an image of herself. It was about taking control by manipulation. It was about owning her own power.
For Elsa was a con artist. And she was damn good at it too.
There was reliability in regularity: morning ritual, go to "work", bring in the money, and come home to her apartment, where she lived alone. Consistency was key.
So every day of her world was the same.
Every day except for today.
Elsa switched on the 7 AM news almost perfectly on cue as the overly dramatic introduction started up. She let the television run in the background as she prepared her breakfast: sprouted grain bread topped with scrambled egg white, topped with four slices of avocado, topped with a dash of pepper, with a side of Greek yogurt with diced strawberries. Fats, protein, and complex carbs. Perfectly balanced, perfectly nutritional. Her body would absorb every bit and run smoothly on the meal.
As she listened to the newscaster forecast the weekly weather, she licked the last bit of yogurt off her spoon, rose to clean up her area and placed the dishes in the sink. She reached over and opened the cupboard, grabbed an unlabeled prescription bottle, and opened it to shake out a single, pink, oval pill.
Thank god for Steve, she thought, popping the pill into the back of her throat and swallowing it back without water. Steve was her trusted primary dealer.
DING~ DONG~
Elsa jumped and almost choked when the doorbell rang, loud and jarring and bounding off the walls and hardwood floor of her apartment. She froze, her eyes widening.
She never had guests. The only person that ever visited her was her partner, Kristoff, and he always knocked on the door.
Diiiiing~ Dooonggg~
Heart hammering against her chest, Elsa whipped her arm to the remote and turned off the TV. Like a deer in headlights, she stood as still as possible, as if the person outside would be able to hear her make even one move.
Who the hell could it be?
She had no idea. She thought about not answering the door, but that would increase the possibility of them returning again, which was the last thing she wanted. She cringed. Better to turn them away, once and for all.
She continued to stand in place, still unsure with the decision she'd made. Then, suddenly, three loud bangs against the door made her jump and scramble towards it to make the nerve-wracking ruckus stop.
Who the freaking hell? First thing in the morning...ugh... she thought, crossly twisting the heavy top lock and turning the bottom one. She was irritated. She didn't want to be late for "work"- though she didn't have a formal boss or workplace. Routine and consistency were just her way of doing things, and this rude disturbance wasn't making her morning any more pleasant.
She paused for a moment to brace herself. Then Elsa cracked open the door, slowly, just enough so that her one eye could peer through the narrow slit, only slightly reassured by the door chain connected to the wall. Her feeling of dread quickly dissipated as her gaze was met with a soft pair of eyes, glistening with nervousness and anticipation. Elsa opened the door a little further.
Always having been a nervous and anxious person, Elsa was surprised to find herself feeling a different sensation of nervousness as she studied the girl in front of her, her heart lightly fluttering. Her visitor had on a backwards baseball cap, strawberry hair flowing out from under it, making her turquoise eyes seem almost luminous. Light freckles were playfully sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, her rosy lips in a small, timid smile. The girl had a tomboyish flair- tight grey jeans, a light tan leather jacket, with large, white combat boots. The messenger bag slung over her shoulder slipped a bit, and she pulled the strap up to secure it.
"Yes?" Elsa asked quietly, with a hint of annoyance.
"H-hi..." the girl said, tucking some hair behind her ear. "Um, sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but I had to come first thing, because I really wanted to meet you. I just couldn't wait." She fiddled with her jacket zipper. "So, um, is your name Elsa?"
Slightly furrowing her eyebrows, Elsa replied. "Yes..." How did she get my name? Who is this girl? She looked about eighteen or so.
The girl cleared her throat. "My name's Anna, and...well...I don't know how to say it, so I'll just say it. I-I'm your younger sister."
Elsa stifled a grumble. "I'm sorry, you're mistaken. I don't have a younger sister. Now, if you'll excuse me...I have to go to work," and she started to close the door, but was met with the thud of the girl's hand holding it open.
"Our parents, Akthar and Ithunn, right?" Her voice was firm now, and Elsa blinked at her. She was right, those were her birth parent's names, but she certainly had no siblings and she was sure of that. Elsa looked down at her watch.
"I'm sorry, but I really have to go to work. Honestly, the adoption agency probably misinformed you or made some kind of mistake, because when my biological parents gave me away, I'm pretty sure I was old enough to remember if I had a younger sister or not. So now, if you'll excuse me," and she decisively shut the door and locked it.
Elsa stood with her back against the door, breathing quietly as her heart continued to flutter. She waited for the girl to go away, but was further annoyed when she heard her fumbling outside. Elsa didn't like anybody visiting, not even Kristoff, who she knew and trusted. She didn't like strangers, especially ones that claimed crazy things, throwing her off her schedule first thing in the morning.
Her heart skipped when in the corner of her eye she saw something slip under the door, and she looked down to find a torn piece of paper. Hearing her footsteps finally trail away outside, Elsa reached down and picked it up. The paper was pink and pre-decorated, printed with cherries and hearts. Scribbled on it was a phone number.
Call me.
-Anna
A faint smell was coming from the scrap of paper, and she brought it to her nose. Cherry scented paper? Elsa stared at it. This girl was just a kid, a kid who was confused or had been wrongly informed. She tossed the scrap into the key bowl sitting on the table by her door, and quickly went to get her things to go to the "office". Elsa scoffed as she picked up her professional messenger bag.
It was ridiculous- a sister? Elsa almost laughed on her way out.
I forgot to wash the dishes. I fucking forgot the wash the fucking dishes.
Rubbing her temples, Elsa clenched her jaw as she pictured the dirty, crusty, unwashed dishes from this morning's breakfast that were just sitting in her kitchen sink, gathering and teeming with more bacteria by the second.
That stupid, stupid girl just threw everything off, first thing in the morning...ugh how could I forget to wash the dishes?!
"Elsa, you alright over there? Are you still thinking about that girl?" Elsa lifted an eyelid to peer over at Kristoff, who was sitting across from her, his feet propped up on the office desk, leaning back in his swivel chair and messily eating a fast-food breakfast sandwich.
"Can you please eat that somewhere else, it smells like asshole," Elsa gritted through her teeth. The ventilation in the tiny office was nonexistent, much to her dismay.
"How do you even know what asshole smells like?" Kristoff replied with his full mouth.
Elsa cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well, I sure do know what yours smells like, 'cuz I can smell it from all the way from over here when you walk by. It would probably help if you scrubbed it clean at least couple times a month."
How they were partners and worked so well together, she had no idea. But she trusted him, regardless of all his messy and unkempt mannerisms. They'd met two years ago and Elsa taught him everything she knew about her field, and although she was still a lot better than him, he was a natural himself.
Kristoff chortled as he popped the last bit of the sandwich into his mouth. He crumpled up and threw the wrapping into the trashcan by the door, where it missed and landed on the floor. "I'm sorry I don't take three showers every day, miss thang."
They both looked at the ball of trash, and Elsa shot Kristoff a look. "Fiiinee," Kristoff groaned as he rolled his eyes and got up from his seat to properly throw it away.
The "office" was small, perfectly appropriate for about two people. It was supposed to be a large office supply closet for the office building it was in, but Elsa and Kristoff lucked out having found the space on craigslist for fairly cheap. It was large enough for two office desks, which were now faced towards each other in the middle of the room, with one window looking out from the second floor. Located at the very end of the hallway, there would be very minimal traffic coming their way; nobody to bother them about anything, and that was just the way she liked things. They needed an official office space to register their fraudulent business.
First, Elsa would call current customers of InterCable, a popular internet provider. Pretending to be an InterCable representative, in her most pleasant and professional voice, she would call and inform customers that their computers or laptops were creating errors and that the company needed to send an I.T. guy to correct these faults, free of charge of course. Then, Kristoff, the I.T. guy would go to their houses and "take a look" at their computers, quickly installing a virus that would show these so-called errors on their screens. Kristoff would come to the conclusion that they would need to purchase some form of support or better security software, and he'd offer to take care of it for them right then and there, and just like that the unsuspecting customers would give him their credit card details.
They did riskier cons on the side, where the bigger bucks were made.
"So this girl, just...out of nowhere comes and says she's your sister? How old was she?" Kristoff asked as he plopped back down into his chair.
"She looked like she was still in college, like a freshman or sophomore maybe...just a kid," Elsa replied, looking up at the ceiling to try to remember the details of the mysterious girl.
"Dude, we're practically just kids too, you know."
"We are not," Elsa shot back, "We're twenty-three. We're young adults."
"Okay so, let's say she's...I dunno...eighteen. So you guys would be..." he tried to do the math.
"Five or six years apart," she quickly replied back.
"Right. And what age did you say you were given up for adoption?"
"I was around six."
"Okay so by the time th-wait wait wait-I remember you saying something about your parents getting an abortion though, you told me something about that, right?"
Elsa stared back at him, trying to think back to her unclear and fuzzy memories of her younger days with her biological parents. When Elsa was given up for adoption, she remembered her parents throwing around the word "abortion" around that time, and she never knew what that meant until much later. So maybe her parents aborted a possible younger sibling, but who was she to care? She sure as hell didn't. She wanted nothing to do with her biological parents; they were irresponsible high school dropouts who tried to take care of her for six years, but ended up giving her away because of drug and gambling addictions. They were idiots and Elsa never cared to contact or reach out to them. She was much better on her own. She'd spent most of her child and teenage years at an adoption house with other abandoned children, for eager parents only wanted fresh newborns.
Elsa replied hesitantly. "Well...yea, but I never gave that much thought. I mean even if they did get an abortion..." She stopped, and a cold shiver suddenly ran through her body. What if... they never got the abortion?
"Elsa, what if they never got that abortion?" Kristoff said, as if he were reading her mind. "What if, that girl is actually your sister? Just...imagine that for a second..."
Elsa stared at Kristoff as her mouth slowly parted and hung in disbelief. No, it couldn't be...a younger sister? The idea was...almost horrifying. She lived a solo life, and she liked it that way. There was nobody else to take care of except for herself, nobody else to worry about, nobody to sniff around and ruin her perfectly private lifestyle.
"No, it's impossible," she said firmly, trying to convince herself. "Somebody would've told me by now, or she would've contacted me a lot sooner..."
"Who would've told you Elsa? Your parents? Obviously not, they're a bunch of crazies...no offense."
Elsa scoffed, "None taken."
Kristoff continued. "And, this girl, wait what's her name again?"
"Anna," Elsa said thoughtfully, her name softly floating out of her mouth, like it was the most foreign and exotic thing.
"Right, Anna. So maybe Anna just realized she had an older sibling, or her parents wouldn't tell her, or maybe the adoption agency wouldn't tell her until she turned eighteen, I have no clue." Kristoff threw up his hands and placed them behind his head as he propped up his feet again. "I think you should call her. What's the worst that could happen?"
Elsa nervously gnawed at her lower lip, deep in thought.
What's the worst that could happen?
