You remember a crash.
You were driving in your minivan to go get Windex from the store, and there was a big crash. You heard it more than felt it, because you can't exactly remember feeling anything. Just that it was big and loud and then you were lying on your back and there was a woman. There is only one thing you can remember about this woman. White. There was white somewhere with this woman. You float around in an endless dream state and the only thing you can remember is white. And you can't even do anything with that information because everything around you is white.
But there is nothing around you.
You are alone.
The first time you see her, you are at a station. There are loud noises and bustling people and – her. She's standing across the platform and there are so many people there, talking and eating and laughing but all you can see is her.
She is alone.
You are alone.
And the first thing you think to do is go over to her. Your first thought is not to wash your hands or to brush your bangs out of your face or even to see where you are, but to go to her. To be with her.
That should scare you.
It doesn't.
You try to move, to place one foot in front of the other, but you can't. You would say that you are rooted to your spot, but you aren't. You aren't anything. You look down and there is nothing there.
The second time you see her, you're in your bedroom. You can tell this isn't really your bedroom because of how clean it is. You clean it to look like this, but somehow it always gets messed up. Donnie does not like clean as much as you do.
But you are sitting on this clean bed and reading a thick book and everything is too bright and all of a sudden she is there.
Standing across the room from you, she is there. She looks at you, and you know you haven't really met her, but you trust her. You trust her with anything. You trust her with your life.
You stand up and set the book down on the bed. You don't look back at it, but you know that it is gone the moment you let go of it. You can't seem to make yourself care. All you care about is her.
"Who are you?" You don't remember wanting to speak, but there are words anyway. It sounds like your voice, but then again, it doesn't.
Whatever the voice was, you don't care. All you care about is the answer to the question it posed. You look at her questioningly, but she says nothing. She just blinks, a tear running down her cheek. You think of wiping her tear away and then, without your permission, you can feel yourself walking towards her. You are going to her and your hand is held out and you want to touch her but when you do she just
disappears.
And then you do too.
You don't know where you are when you aren't with her. You just cease to exist. When you are with her again you can tell that time has passed, but you can't remember where you were for that time or how long it's been.
Strangely enough, that doesn't seem to bother you.
The third time you see her, you are standing in a field. You can tell that there was once noise in the field – familiar noise – but it is silent now. You can't see anyone around you but you know she is there.
"Who are you?"
There is silence for a few moments. The grass whispers to the trees and you wish you could hear what they were saying. It doesn't bother you that they are uneven and prickly and soft at the same time.
They do not bother you.
"Beth," the woman says. She is Beth. You are Alison.
In that moment, you feel right.
"Who am I?" you ask, because even though you know what your answer would be, you don't know hers.
"Just one," she says. She sounds like she might continue, but she doesn't.
What Beth says sounds familiar, like something that you once knew and is now lost, but you don't know why. You don't know anything except that she is here. And so are you.
"Where are we?" you ask.
"I don't know. Where do you think we are?"
You repeat her words. "I don't know. It's outside. There's grass and a cabin and I can smell gunpowder here but I don't recognise anything."
You can hear the smile in her voice when she finally answers. "I know where we are now. I love it here. You used to, too."
"Can you tell me where we are?"
Silence.
"No."
The last time you see her, you are at the station again. This time you are on the same side of the platform as she is, and instead of it being busy and loud, it is quiet.
You are alone.
She is crying this time. You want to comfort her, but as soon as you turn your head to face her, you find that you can't move.
She has your face. Or, maybe you have her face. She always seemed to be more real than you were.
You don't understand how you hadn't noticed this before.
You stand there for a second. She is crying harder than she was the first time you saw her. It is not just a tear, it is whimpers and sobs and head-in-hands bad-decision crying.
You know this crying. Too well, you know this crying.
And then before you even have time to think, she turns to face you too. There is a single tear on her cheek, just like the second time you ever saw her, but she is not crying anymore.
For some reason, you feel like you are about to.
She steps forward and you want to bring her back and hug her but you can't move again. You aren't real. You can feel yourself fading just like last time, but before you do, you see the train. And you hear the whistle.
Beth doesn't seem to.
When you wake from the dream, you find yourself in a hospital room. Instead of being light and airy, you feel heavy. Your limbs are too heavy.
Slowly, you come to realise the things around you. There is beeping and red flashing from a monitor and white machines and alcohol in the air.
And a woman.
A woman, sitting in a chair. Asleep.
Beth.
Gradually, you sit up, not quite sure if this is real or not. When you feel pain in your arm from an IV, you decide it must be. You aren't sure how you got to be here in this hospital or why you're in this bed, but you don't care.
Beth is here.
You don't know why, but it feels like it's been months since you've seen her.
You pull the IV out of your arm and rip off the heart monitor. You can't find it in you to care that the constant beep of the machine has stopped and been replaced with a flat tone. There will be nurses coming to check on you because of this, but all you can focus on is Beth. Stepping out of the bed, you place your feet on the floor.
You don't have socks on.
You start off walking slowly to where she sits across the room, but your feet are speeding up and speeding up until you're nearly running to where she is. When you finally reach her, you jump into her lap. You think that you have never felt more whole than you do right now. Her head shoots up her eyes are wide open. When you look into them, you notice they are darker than normal.
You assume that it's because she was just asleep.
And then your lips are on hers and it feels like everything in the world is right again and nothing could ever be wrong – until you notice how different it is. For one, she isn't kissing you back. Beth, your Beth, would be holding you and running her hand along your jawline and kissing you back. This Beth is still. Her arms are at her sides and her lips are closed and you can feel her eyelids fluttering, telling you that they're still open.
Secondly, this Beth doesn't taste like your Beth. This Beth doesn't taste like wine and spearmint toothpaste. This Beth tastes like apple juice and Snickers and – not Beth.
You pull away after a few seconds, confused.
"Beth?" you ask, your brow furrowed.
This Beth's face was previously a mixture of shock and confusion, but at your statement, it changes. Now she contorts it into a pained, sympathetic sort-of look.
She looks different. She doesn't look as similar to your Beth as you first thought she did.
What really gets you is her voice, though. It isn't Beth's voice at all.
"Alison? Are you 'kay?"
This is not your Beth. This Beth is British. This Beth is not Beth at all.
All of a sudden it dawns on you.
This is Sarah. Sarah is here now. Sarah is a clone. You're a clone, too. Remember? You aren't real.
And Beth is dead.
"S-sorry," you say. You aren't listening to what she's saying, even though you know she's talking. You get up off her lap and walk to the door.
"I'm sorry, Sarah."
Beth is dead.
So are you