Perfect
By kiragecko
Isn't it odd they sent the twins back to the father that neglects them?
Once we were one, and perfect. Now we sit alone in this empty house. Once we were strong and unafraid. Noticed and admired. We were something and now we are nothing. We long to be one again, whole again. To know how to act, to know who we are. To matter. To be strong, and smart, and beautiful. To have our father see us, our friends respect us. They spoke to us before. Now they have sent us back here, alone.
My greatest fear is to be alone. To be without anyone. I watch Claudette as she wanders farther away in her private world and I wish for her touch again. I wish to hear her, as I used to, but she is leaving like everyone else.
We want to be her again. To always know what to say and what to do. We knew everything, then. Now we know nothing. We aren't perfect anymore. She is. We were Monet, we were one. Now there is only me, and I am none.
I reach out, touch my sister's hand. For the first time in weeks her eyes meet mine. Then there are only our eyes, our body. Our mind. I laugh at the joy of her touch, of her mind, of us. We are one, perfect, needing no one, nothing. Not unwanted children but a woman who will shape the world. Only she is in the way.
We love her, the perfect daughter. Father wanted her, Marius wanted her, Miss Frost and Mr. Cassidy wanted her. We want her. We rise into the air, graceful and sure. They want her, we can be her. But only if they don't know.
