HiveComb

A five minutes writing

Splash

It started with a feeling I couldn’t explain, not pain, just a quiet awareness that something about my life didn’t fit.

From the outside, we were a normal family. Dinner at 7 all filled with laughter.

My parents moving through routines like nothing was missing, and my sister, Ada always at the center of it all, bright, effortless and loved.

Then there was me, present but distant, like I had stepped into a story that wasn’t written for me.

I tried to ignore it, told myself I was overthinking, but the details wouldn’t let it be so

My mother sometimes paused before calling my name, my father avoided my eyes
And Ada, she was kind, too careful, like she was handling something fragile or dangerous

One night, the power went out, In the silence, I went to the kitchen for a candle and heard them.

“…she’s starting to notice,” my mother whispered.

There was a pause

Then my father replied, low and tense:
“We knew this would happen.”

“Maybe we should tell her,” she said.

“Tell her what?” he snapped. “That she doesn’t belong here?”

My chest tightened, at that point, the candle slipped from my hand.

I didn’t wait, I ran

Back in my room, the words echoed in my mind she doesn’t belong here.

Nothing around me felt like mine anymore

So that night, I went looking for answers

The storage room was always locked

But this time… it wasn’t

Inside, dust filled the air, in the corner sat an old box, I opened it

Photographs of my family, smiling, whole but the girl in them wasn’t Ada and it wasn’t me.

“You weren’t supposed to find that.”

I turned, Ada stood at the door smiling. But this time… it wasn’t kind, "now,” she said softly, “we have a problem.”

It then occurred to me that I was the other daughter

To be continued