2
A re you sure that wasn’t always there?” asked Carly, the residence hall director, when I told her that someone had broken into my room and written TRAITOR on the back of the door.
I had to pause as doubts swirled about in my mind, constantly questioning my reality. Sometimes, there is a fine line between what is real and what is imagined. But I didn’t imagine this.
Pushing my glasses back against the bridge of my nose, I firmly replied, “Yes. I am one hundred percent sure that the word TRAITOR was not on the back of my door when I moved in. Who used that room before me? Could it be a mistaken identity? Perhaps whoever broke in thought I was someone else.”
She looked doubtful as she jotted down my words on the complaints sheet. “Did the door look as though it had been tampered with?”
“No,” I replied, doubt ingrained deeper into her face. “Should I go to campus police about this?”
“Well…” I could tell she wasn’t comfortable with me doing that, probably because it was on her head. “Did you find anything missing? Did they steal anything?”
I exhaled. “No.”
“Okay, so if the door wasn’t tampered with and nothing had gone missing, then…it’s possible that,” she pointed to the picture I took of it in my phone. “Was it there when you moved in?”
“I already said no,” I answered resolutely, staking my ground, even though I was internally interrogating myself.
How the heck could I not notice the word TRAITOR in bright red on the back of my door? But then, my first week here was hectically busy on orientation week…Shaun showing me around. Perhaps I did lose my head and was so distracted by my busy schedule that I didn’t notice it.
No. That’s stupid.
“Forget it,” I backtracked impatiently. “Don’t worry about it.” I stepped away from her office on the ground floor of Hallen Hall and disappeared through the nearest exit into the bright sunshine.
Classes didn’t start until next week, so I had plenty of spare time on my hands to explore, especially now that Shaun had screwed me over. I knew I wouldn’t hear from him again, but he said we shared a class…oh no, maybe that was a lie, too. If he were speaking the truth, I’d ignore him to save what I had left of my dignity.
There were two places I tended to gravitate to in life. One was the sports field, so I can relive my memories of when I was on the athletics team in high school in Larsson, where Annika Kaiser died. The other type of place I like to go is amongst nature and animals. It’s weird because I only became interested in nature and animals when I became a forced recluse due to being in a Witness Protection Program organized by the Larsson Police Department. Neighborhood cats became my company, and trees became my confidants. Yeah, I’m a total antisocial nerd these days through repetitive suppressing of my true personality and dimming of my inner light.
This was not who I was. I was bright, energetic, and happy once, at least after my parents fostered me. Before I was fostered, life was a living hell that I’d prefer to forget forever.
Can I call them my parents anymore? My foster parents.
The Kaisers.
And their cute son, Gunner.
Our little family took a blow when my foster father was murdered, and then I damaged the family even more when I did what I did. But that’s a fairytale shoved to the back of my mind. When Annika died, and Riley Laws was born, I went underground and dropped contact with my foster mom, who was the best and most generous person in the world, and, of course…
Gunner.
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my glasses. Three years and thinking of him still did this to me. He didn’t know that he inadvertently stole my heart amongst the growth spurts, summers by the lake, and stealing candy. He didn’t know because I never told him, mainly because it was completely inappropriate. Even when we played around a little in our mid-teens, I still didn’t let on that he’d captured my heart in his web.
But a girl like me wasn’t used to kindness and love. My birth mother dumped me in an orphanage at age six, and I was in and out of foster homes, some of which were cruel and unpleasant. My first few years on this earth were starved of love; therefore, it took me a while to understand that love was not conditional or something used to manipulate people.
Perhaps I interpreted Gunner’s kindness for something more. Upon reflection, I realized I was just an inexperienced girl hungry for a boy to love me.
But that’s all in the past now.
After checking my phone for directions, I finally found the athletic field, where a group of students played a casual football game while others were lying on the grass in the sun. I sat in the empty bleachers, found Judith’s name in my contacts, and considered informing her of the TRAITOR scribbled on the back of my door. But I decided against it because I was questioning whether it was there in the first place.
Me: Daily check-in. I’m good.
A girl sitting three seats below me opened a packet of Cheetos startling me because I hadn’t noticed she was sitting there. But she looked like that type of girl who was easy to miss. The more I looked at her, the more she resembled me—or, more accurately, I resembled her.
Glasses, plain, shy, nerdy, hid behind long hair, bag weighed down with books—a loner. I stifled a cringe. My entire appearance and new identity were modeled on a wallflower like her. I groaned, feeling uncomfortable being near her and wanting to move away before she accused us of being twins.
Judith: Any problems settling in at Gotland?
I hesitated as my twin crunched on Cheetos while reading an open book, and the cheese scent reminded me that I had forgotten to have breakfast.
Me: No.
Judith: Are you making new friends?
Shaun’s smiling face entered my mind, and anger rose. “What a prick,” I stated aloud, and my twin turned back to look at me.
Again, it hit me hard that I was talking to myself because I had no friends. I chatted about this new part of my personality often because I was so lonely and needed to talk things out with people sometimes, yet I had no people to talk to. When I was a little kid living with my mom, I rarely spoke at all, and that way of dealing with trauma stayed with me throughout the foster homes and then onto the Kaisers. It took a lot of coaxing to pull me out of my shell, but they, the Kaisers, particularly my foster mom and Gunner, believed I was worth it and put enormous amounts of time and therapy into me.
Me: Yes.
I lied to Judith, a sergeant in the Larsson Police force, who had been my guiding hand throughout this distress and organized my new identity and safe houses. Getting used to my new skin took several months, and I had multiple moments where I’d forget who I was supposed to be. Being at college bombarded by new people and personalities acting normal, I felt my cover would be blown. With so many people in my environment, someone, even one person, might see through my disguise.
I decided to take the risk because I just wanted to feel normal and plan a future, even though my normal was fake and everyone I met was deceived.
Judith: Good. I’ll top up your PayPal.
Me: Thank you. Is there enough money for me to buy a car?
I knew the answer before I asked it, but I thought Judith might be able to help me, perhaps by lending me money or a car. You don’t know until you ask.
Judith: Not on this budget. You might need to get a job.
Me: OK. I can do that.
My twin licked her fingers after eating half the bag of Cheetos, then neatly folded the bag, revealed a bag clip, and placed it over the top, like magic. My twin had the domestic habits of a 1950s grandmother, and it only made me want to head to the store to buy the largest bag of cheese and barbeque Cheetos and demolish the entire lot for breakfast.
My hangover didn’t eventuate from last night, and immediately, that piece of shit Shaun entered my thoughts, fucking me in his bed, then discarding this loser if I did something wrong. Or maybe he could tell I was a fraud.
I found my wallet in my bag, checked that it had some cash, and then started stepping down the bleachers. As I passed my twin, she turned to look up at me. I was about to say ‘hi,’ but as soon as our eyes met, she dropped her head down, showing her social awkwardness, or maybe she just wanted to be left alone to read her book.
“Going to buy a bag of Cheetos,” I informed her, walking away so she knew I wasn’t going to hang around and annoy her. “Got cravings.”
Once I reached the end of the field, I turned back to catch my twin, quickly looking down as if she’d been watching me. That good ol’ friend called suspicion crawled down my spine, and I brushed it aside, deciding she was nothing to worry about. She’s just a shy girl living in a loud, angry world.
By the time I bussed to the campus Stop & Shop and bussed back to my street, then walked to Hallen Hall loaded with Cheetos and a bottle of Cola, I was starving. With the plan to stuff my face until I could not eat anymore, wallowing in my self-pity after being shafted by Shaun fuckface, who still hadn’t contacted me, not that I was expecting him to, I finally arrived at my door.
My feet froze to the floor as hesitation claimed me, and I feared going in. If someone could access my room, they could be there now. At least while I was in my room, I could hook the chain, but as soon as I left the room, they , whoever they were, could sneak in and wait for me to return.
Taking a deep breath, I used my keycard and pushed the door open a crack to peer inside. A girl came running up the stairs and glanced at me, frowning as if she thought I was weird, so to remove myself from her judging stare, I pushed the door further and entered.
When I shut the door, I ran my eyes over the wood to discover that the word "TRAITOR" was gone. Weird. After dumping my junk food shopping on the bed, I brushed my fingers over where the word was to find no trace of it. But the scent of methylated spirits carried on my skin, indicating that someone had come into my room to clean it off.
Let’s be rational about this. It had to be someone that Carly, the Hallen Hall Director, sent to have it cleaned off, but surely, she’d ask before going into my room where all my personal stuff was.
Slamming the door behind me in anger, I hightail it down the hall to hunt down Carly to give her a piece of my mind.