Zoe's POV
For a split second, I thought I was seeing a ghost.
I was heading into what should've been a dark room—but to my surprise, the lights were already on. My steps slowed, cautious and unsure, as I stepped inside, completely unprepared for what—or who—waited for me.
"Brandon?" I called, needing to confirm I wasn't imagining things. Confusion twisted my voice as I walked closer. When he turned and our eyes met, a chill crawled up my spine.
Why am I scared?
Maybe it's because this was the same Brandon who blew off dinner—even when his mom insisted he be there. It was painfully obvious he couldn't stand me.
"Is there something I can help you with?" I asked, trying to sound unbothered.
"Get over yourself," he snapped. "This is the only place my mom won't think to look. I'll be here a while—just until she gives up and goes to bed."
I didn't respond. Instead, I quietly moved to my closet and pulled out the new school bag Mrs. Ross bought me. I had to prep for tomorrow—there were bigger things to stress over than Brandon's dramatic entrance.
I'd be going to school with these people, and so far, I hadn't won anyone over. No allies, no soft spots. Just cold stares and closed doors. I needed to step up. Be smart. Strategic. This wasn't a place for weakness.
As I focused on my bag, his voice cut in again—sharper this time.
"I don't like you."
My lips moved before my brain caught up: I don't like you either.
But the words never left my mouth. I just mouthed them silently, keeping my expression impassive. There was no point in pushing back. It wouldn't change anything—only make life harder. He wanted a reaction. I refused to give him one.
He began pacing like a restless predator, eyeing every corner of the room until he finally landed at my desk. He sat down, picked up a pen, and casually read the initials.
"Z. H.?" he muttered. "I thought your name was Chloe."
He didn't wait for a reply. "Who's Z.H.?"
My chest tightened. He's asking too many questions.
Clenching my fists beneath the desk, I forced myself to stay calm.
"Zoe. My twin sister," I said coolly. "The pen's a keepsake—so do you mind?"
I felt the frustration start to burn in my throat. I'd expected questions eventually… just not this soon. I didn't want to explain anything. Not to him. Not to anyone. All I wanted was to stay low, do what needed to be done, and leave when the time was right.
Brandon stood up abruptly. I heard a door close somewhere in the distance.
"That's my cue," he said with a smirk. "Sorry for the rude intrusion, Chloe. Didn't mean to disturb your precious peace and privacy." He grinned like he'd won something, strutting out the door like a hunter satisfied with his catch.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I finally exhaled.
Exhaustion hit me like a wave. That felt less like a conversation and more like a warning shot.
I sank into my chair and stared into the mirror. What I saw staring back wasn't me—it was her. Chloe. My twin sister. The soft light from the bulb caught my red-dyed hair, and a quiet voice rose from somewhere deep inside me.
"Can't you see? You are her."
"I can do this," I whispered to my reflection. "I have to do this. It's the only way."
Tomorrow, everything begins. And there's no turning back.
As I lay on the bed, sleep refused to come. My body stayed still, but my mind spun restlessly. It felt like if I dared to close my eyes, someone would peer into my secret.
Eyes wide open, I kept whispering, like a prayer—
"I can do this. I can do this."