Notes: Each chapter will be labeled a literary or mythological character's name that I identify with the Roswell character's situation. I hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is appreciated.
Distribution: Just ask.
Author: Amber
The Voices
Part One: Ophelia
He's mad at me again. My brother, I mean. He thinks I pushed her down the stairs to stop her shrieking. But I didn't, it was the Other. He doesn't see the Other, but she's always there. And I'd never lie to him. He's my big brother and I love him most of everybody.
I am happy she stopped that awful noise, though. Why does he want someone who screams because of a little illusion? He deserves someone better. Someone like us. Maybe like the little girl we left behind years ago. She was pretty and bright and strong. She could take care of us. I know she could.
He says we have to move again. That people are becoming suspicious of us. But he fixed the girl and made her forget she fell, so why would anyone be afraid of us? He won't tell me, but he says that we can go looking for the girl who's like us. He misses her too, but he won't tell me that. He thinks he has to be strong for me. He thinks I'm crazy, but I'm not. I just see things normal people don't.
Like I see the way he studies every person we meet, trying to see how much of a danger they are to us. To him, everybody's a danger, so he never relaxes. I see through the little lies he tells himself to get through the day. I see the way he looks at me, half affection-half wariness. He doesn't trust as much as he loves me, which would hurt if I didn't know it was the Other's fault.
I think of her as the Other, because she refuses to tell me her real name. Or why she's trying to turn my brother against me. She's strange, filled with all sorts of ill intentions, but I don't know why. I've never done anything to her, neither has he as far as I know. I worry sometimes that she'll one-day do something so bad my brother won't forgive me, the worst thing that could happen short of her hurting him.
I should pack, because he wants me to. But I'd rather listen to my cat and her kittens talking about the weather. They have such an interesting way of looking at things. They're willing to listen to me talk about why I think people from Jupiter would be nicer than Martians, which is good because everyone else gets nervous when I talk about such things.
But don't all people see the Faery and angels and demons? Don't all people feel the earth's life? Sense people's auras and karma? What's so odd about it? Why do people who see or feel these get termed socially unacceptable? Why do those people get labeled crazy, marked by the Devil, or at least eccentric?
I know he worries when I get like this, all introspective and incapable of telling the difference between this world and others. He's right, I AM unable to recognize him sometimes. And I forget who and what I am most of the time. I never forget who the Other is and I can always feel our third, but I don't know why. Maybe I'm supposed to be eccentric so I can sense them?
I worry sometimes that my brother is right and that I'm losing mind. It's not that I'm scared of my title as the crazy one, it's that I won't be able to watch my brother's back. He'd be left alone, just like the little girl from so long ago sometimes feels. I never feel alone, the pixies and elves are good company for me.
I hope they're right and we'll find our third there. I'd really like a sister all for myself and I think something bad will happen if we don't get to her soon. Sometimes being the crazy one's harder than it looks.