"Next stop, Huxley Station," the metallic voice rang out inside the nearly empty train car. Towards the back, a student stood and gathered his things, then made his way towards the door. A mother and her child stayed seated in the middle of the train, the child fast asleep.
The fourth passenger, a young woman, was also asleep, her music still blasting into her ears underneath a dark and unruly mane and a black hood. The train slowed to a brief stop before speeding off once again, and only then did the young woman wake with a start.
"Shite!"
The mother glared across the aisle and covered her child's ears protectively.
"Sorry."
The dark haired woman stood to look at the map. Thankfully, getting off at the next stop wouldn't put her too far out of the way. She took a seat near the door and waited for the train to slow again.
Huxley Station was quiet. When the train came through, the few commuters who stood on the platform boarded, and the passengers who left the train quickly darted to their next destination. The platform was empty once again, except for a young woman in a neat skirt and wine-colored cardigan under a blazer. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun, and a few strands had fallen out after a long day.
She was crying. Not loudly, but just loud enough to carry, had anyone else been on the platform to hear her. She set her purse down carefully onto the concrete. Slowly, she stepped out of her heels. She folded up her jacket and placed it on her shoes. There was a rumbling as the next train approached. It was time. As the lights appeared down the tunnel, the woman began to slowly walk across the platform, lengthening her stride as the train approached.
And then, with a sickening thud, bone and locomotive collided.
One stop beyond Huxley, Sarah Manning stepped off of the train. Her backpack hung loosely on her shoulders, and she couldn't help but shiver in the cool night breeze. Goosebumps prickled under a ripped up pair of black tights under frayed black shorts. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her black leather jacket, Sarah made her way towards the closest payphone and shoved a few odd coins into the slot.
"Hey, it's Sarah. Yeah, I'm back in town," she said into the receiver. She paused, knowing her next words wouldn't fall on generous ears. "I want to see Kira." When the voice on the other end denied her request, even to speak on the phone, Sarah hung up.
She was frustrated, but she couldn't pretend she hadn't been anticipating that response. She'd reunite with Felix, grab a drink at Bobby's, and they'd make a plan to get out once and for all.
Bobby's Bar was loud that night- a group of rugby players had just won their match and were feeling celebratory. Felix Dawkins, a slender young man with a wave of dark brown hair and kind eyes so dark they looked black, sat across from his foster sister in the corner of the pub. It was hard to believe they weren't related by blood. Both dressed like punks, with dark features, matching eyeliner, and English accents, they could always pass as biological siblings. Sarah filled him in on her life since she'd run off almost a year ago. Her boyfriend, Vic, was abusive and always causing trouble, but she'd hit him first this time and run off with his cocaine, which she planned to sell to provide for her daughter. Felix was skeptical, especially since he was the one who had to hand it off. It wouldn't float with their foster mother, Mrs. S., if she ever found out, and as Felix was the one who didn't run when things got rocky, he knew he'd be left facing the repercussions. They were just starting to argue when Felix's eyes flicked up to the television on mounted on the wall.
"What the hell," he breathed. Sarah turned so she could see the screen and at first she barely made the connection.
There was a story on about a suicide that had occurred earlier that evening. A woman had jumped in front of a train in the station where Sarah had meant to disembark. What was most disturbing, however, was the woman herself. She looked exactly like her.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Sarah said, not sure if she should be laughing or horrified. "Do I have a long-lost sister, Fee?"
"It's what we poor orphans like to tell ourselves isn't it?" Felix responded dreamily.
"Elizabeth Childs. That's her name," Sarah said, reading the screen. "What the hell."
Felix was typing away on his phone.
"What you got there?" Sarah asked.
"Looking her up. Here we are. Shit, she's you with a nice haircut. Elizabeth Childs. Toronto Police Department. Good Lord, she's a detective," Felix laughed. "And you're trying to sell cocaine."
"D'you think I should go in or something, Fee?" Sarah asked, steering the subject from her ambiguous moral compass. "I mean what if we really are related?"
Felix drained the last of his Guinness. "Listen, let's sort it out in the morning. Maybe they'll have more research on her. I mean after all, she's one of their own."
"Yeah, you're right. Up to your place?"
"Of course, darling. Later, Bobby," Felix called, waving to the familiar blonde bartender.
That night, Sarah lay in Felix's bed while he slept on the couch. She kicked the red covers off, too warm, and then pulled them back up. Too warm. It was nearly three in the morning, but she couldn't fall asleep. There was a woman out there. A woman who looked like she could be her professional, upstanding twin sister. And she didn't know about her until she was dead. Until she had killed herself at the very station that Sarah was supposed to have been at the very same time. There was too much mystery in all of it, too much chance. But Felix was right, they could only wait until morning to see. With these thoughts rolling around in her tired mind, Sarah Manning fell into an unrestful sleep.