Lying back, I surround myself with the sumptuous pillows piled high on the bed. I can’t believe how comfortable this is. The pillows are soft, their covers are silky, and they have a sensual feel to the touch. The quilt beneath me feels just as wonderful with its thick soft filling. With the moonlight coming in through the window I can see that the quilt cover matches the pillows perfectly. This bed’s just like the ones I’ve seen in one of those glossy magazines. I’m in heaven. This is the life. It just isn’t my life.
I’ve almost drifted off to sleep when I hear the footsteps coming up the hall—good thing I have excellent hearing—and my eyes fix on the door. The handle turns slowly, no doubt to minimise any noise, and a figure slips in closing the door with a soft click.
“Good thing Aunt Sarah’s a heavy sleeper Jade.”
The figure jumps and fumbles for the light. The face that turns to glare at me could be my own except for the fair complexion framed in wispy blonde hair.
I can only assume one of us must have our mother’s colouring and one our father’s. I’ve not seen any photos of them, been told none exist, and I have shadowy memories of him, but none of her. Aunt Sarah’s always refused to talk about either of them.
We’re like night and day, complete opposites. She’s fair with blonde hair and light blue eyes. I’m dark, with a tanned look even though I don’t spend a lot of time in the sun, dark brown almost black hair, and dark blue eyes with violet flecks. It’s a strange colour and often gets me extra attention from guys. Not that I need it though, I don’t reckon it would matter what colour my eyes were.
We’re both tall, I’m a centimetre taller than her at 180cm, and we’re both slim, but still have the dangerous sexy curves that drive guys crazy, and we both use them, just in different ways.
There’s only one thing we have in common, one thing that shows we’re related—our face. We could pass as twins, our faces are almost identical, but in reality there’s ten months between us. She was born in January and I was born in November.
Either our mother wanted to get the birthing part of her life over and done with as quick as possible, or someone screwed up the birth control. We’ll never know. She disappeared a few months after I was born. I have a vague memory of hearing someone say something about it. Two babies were probably too much for her.
Then he disappeared when I was about four. Like I said, I have shadowy memories of him, very shadowy. I remember a tall man but then when you’re four everyone’s tall.
We both came to live with Aunt Sarah, well for the first year, but when I was five, she shipped me off saying I was too hard to handle. She said she couldn’t cope with me as well. At least that’s what I was told.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she growls.
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