Disclaimer (see Chapter 1)
It was dark—completely dark. And she felt dizzy, like she had ridden a very fast carousel and had just gotten off. But she hadn't been on a carousel, at least not as far as she knew. The last thing she recalled doing was driving. She had been trying to find her way to the FBI seminar that her boss had forced her to sign up for. She had been annoyed when she had left New York City, but her discontent had been growing ever since then. Her flight had been delayed by three hours; then at the car rental nobody could seem to find her reservation. It had taken her almost an hour, but she had finally managed to sort out the mess.
Four hours late, hungry and annoyed, she had managed to get lost on the way. It had started to rain heavily. That was the last thing she recalled. The question was where was she now? Slowly fear started creeping up on her. Something was wrong. She felt strange, like she wasn't fully awake. Maybe this was just a strange dream. But she quickly dismissed the possibility. This was too detailed to be a dream. She extended her hand and tried to feel around for something that would tell her more about where she was. Hours seemed to pass before her hand made contact with something. Like a jolt of electricity, a sharp pain-like sensation shot through her body the second she had touched the unknown object. Almost simultaneously the blankness started to recede. It made way to twilight. Still, it was light enough to enable her to recognize her surroundings. She was standing in a room. Judging by the furniture, it was a living room. It was unfamiliar and she had no explanation how she could have ended up there.
She approached a window. The sun was rising in what looked like one of the millions of suburban streets in North America. There was a dark SUV parked in front of this house as well. She couldn't see much more. Determined to find out all she could, she made her way to the living room door. She reached for the doorknob but didn't get a grip on it. Instead she found herself on the other side of the door. "Oh God," Samantha gasped. She was starting to panic. This had to be a dream. That was the only explanation. Nowhere in the rational world was there a possible explanation for this. Maybe she had fallen asleep at the wheel; she had been tired after all. But how could she wake up again? She tried pinching herself, but to no effect. She tried forcing herself to ignore the rising panic. Losing control wouldn't help her. She needed to be rational. The more information she had, the closer she would come to making sense of this. She decided to look around further.
The room she had entered coming from the living room was an open kitchen joined with a corridor leading to what looked like a front door. From the corridor, stairs were leading upwards to the right. She moved into the kitchen. From the number of dishes drying next to the sink, it looked like there were several people living here. That would fit the quite spacious rooms. A noise, the sound of footsteps. What now? How would she be able to explain what she was doing in the house of complete strangers? She could hardly say that she had just found herself there. And the passing through a closed door? They would think that she was crazy. Maybe she was. For the first time the thought crossed her mind. Could one know if one were seeing things that weren't real? Probably not. It was safer to leave. She made a dash for the front door, but before she could reach it, the sound of footsteps stopped. Slowly she turned around, fearing the worst. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. It wasn't a stranger who was standing in the kitchen. It was herself –or at least someone who looked exactly like herself, or almost like herself. The woman's hair was shorter and she looked a bit heavier than she was. She was tempted to move closer, especially since the woman had not noticed her. She was going about making breakfast like there was no one else there. Fascination suppressed the panic as she watched her alter ego make coffee and set the table for four people. Now Samantha was curious who else would enter the room. She stayed in the corridor, allowing her a good view of the kitchen and the stairs. Every time her alter ego turned her head in her direction, she feared that she would be seen, but the woman's gaze went right through her. The breakfast was just about ready when another set of footsteps came from the direction of the stairs. She turned around and saw Martin come down the stairs. She was even more surprised when he and her alter ego exchanged a hug. Puzzled, Samantha continued to watch the couple have breakfast. The conversation was fairly typical: they were talking about a missing person's case. But then Samantha's alter ego suddenly said something that threw Samantha off completely.
"I need to get Lana ready for school now. Can you drop her off on the way to work?"
"Sorry, I'm not heading to the office first; otherwise I would take her," Martin replied. While he was still eating, Samantha's alter ego went upstairs. Now fairly convinced that she wouldn't be seen, Samantha followed her.
The resemblance was clearly visible—Lana had taken after her mother.
Seeing her alter ego interact with her daughter touched something within Samantha. Something she hadn't known existed within her. In spite of the worrisome nature of her situation, she couldn't help but be fascinated and touched by it in some twisted way. In this world she was obviously married to Martin and had a daughter with him. This was just wrong. Not because she didn't like Martin. On the contrary, he was nice and kind and she knew that he had a crush on her. She could imagine a few dates with him, yes, but not raising a family together. Raising a family with anyone didn't figure in her future plans. Of course, she had toyed with the thought. This was something that just came with age, but deep down she didn't believe in the idyllic family. As a teenager she had already felt the urge to escape from the staged routine of family life. Back then, it had filled her with disgust and rage to see how under the perfect façade, lies and deceit were commonplace. Now, the rage had made way to resignation. Her own marriage had lasted all of six months. Various relationships with various men had been fun, but in no way fulfilling. The relationship with Jack had been different in some ways. There the feelings ran deeper—at least hers did—but she wasn't so sure about him. But not that it mattered now. It was over between them and on top of it all, their working relationship had suffered as well. Being sent to the seminar had only been the latest example. She could see how Martin might appear as a safe bet.
Samantha had been so lost in her thoughts that she had forgotten to pay attention to what was going on around her. Only the sound of the front door closing got her attention. Her alter ego was back without Lana. She had probably dropped her off at school, like she had said earlier. The woman dropped her coat on the kitchen counter and sat down on the couch in the living room. In spite of the early hour, she looked worn. The look on her face was filled with sadness and resignation.
Seeing her alter ego sitting on the couch with such a sad look on her face pained her. She had the irresistible urge to reach out to her. She knew it was futile, but still, she reached out her hand. It was not totally unlike when she had first reached for a door, but the sensation didn't fade, but grew in intensity. Her vision was darkening again and her body started to feel numb. She fought the darkness, but the black spot in her field of vision grew relentlessly. It took only seconds until it was as pitch black as before she had found herself in the living room.
tbc
