January 20, 2011
Little Betty Warren had gone her whole life never knowing what it’s like to be normal. From that delicate per-school age where the young start to think and explore on their own, to the adolescent stage where all kids are awkward and self conscience, to the age of sixteen which she is now, people made fun of her, laughed at her, and called her crazy; even her therapist, through all these years, has been unable to make head way with her.
Betty was extraordinarily self concerning and vey withdrawn from the world; the only one she ever talked to was her twin sister, Elena. They did everything together, walked together, talked together, ate together, and went to school together. They were also identical twins and shared the same shinning, long, brown hair, the same deep green eyes, and the same tall, tan body, literally. Betty and Elena were not just twins, but conjoined twins and had been bored as two heads sharing the same body. Betty had been ridiculed all her life for her uniqueness, and it didn’t help that she would talk to no one but Elena, it also didn’t help that Elena would never talk back.

On this Tuesday in July, just like every other Tuesday for the past twelve years, the twins’ mother, Carla, made her way to the same psychologist they had been visiting since the twins were four. Betty sat ideally beside her mother, not speaking but occasionally turning her head to the right and speaking a few words to Elena. When Dr. Richardson called for them Betty left her mother sitting in the chair as she entered into the room she had long been accustomed to, and over her shoulder, the Dr. caught her mother’s eye where they exchanged a shake of the head and a solemn look.

“Good morning Betty,” the Dr. said with a very fake smile, and after a brief hesitation her added, “Good morning Elena.”

Betty disregarded him casually, as was the norm and mumbled under her breath turning her head ever so slightly to the right.

“Well how was your week?” the doctor asked, and still betty did not respond, did not even look him in the eye but stared at the sun streaming through the back was make entirely of windows.

The room was bright as it was high noon and they sat in complete silence until the doctor spoke again, “Betty, do you know how long you’ve been coming to me?”

It was silent for a long moment before Betty managed to whisper, “Twelve years.”

“Yes, that’s right, and do you know why you’ve been coming to see me?”

Betty turned to the right and looked at the head beside her, her own face staring back.

“Because of Elena,” she mumbled looking back at the doctor.

“Do you do everything with Elena?” the doctor asked, “Is she always with you?”

Betty nodded her head vigorously, suddenly ready to claim with an outburst, “Oh yes! Yes! She is always with me! We spend all out time together.”

The doctor smiled at her enthusiasm, “So you talk to her quite often?”

Betty again nodded energetically.

“And does she ever talk back?”

Betty’s energetic face then grew solemn as she slowly shook her head.

“Has Elena ever talked to anybody?”

Again Betty shook her head.

“Why do you think she does that?” the doctor asked.

Betty withdrew back inside herself and would not answer; she again stared at the golden light streaming through the windows.

“Betty,” the doctor said calling her attention back to him, “What does Elena look like? Can you tell me?”

Betty looked at him questioningly, confused as to why he can’t see for himself that Elena looked just like her. As Betty began to tell him this she glanced to the right but did not see her sister. She began panicking and she looked urgently from the doctor to the nub that shares her shoulder, the empty stand where her sister’s head had once been.

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