Chapter 3 Behind the facade

~Hazel~

I sat at the table, mother and father lost in their own chatter- and then there was Haisely my so called twin, the naive one, the gullible one. She looked like she wanted to dissappear under the flourcent lights flickering over us, her hand nervously cutting her untouched food as she bowed her head in defeat. I was the better one, the flawless Hazel, when I spoke everyone obeyed without even thinking.

I had hated her.

Since when I could remember, they always saw her as the inoccent one.

And me?

I was the trouble maker- the one people didn't like until I found her weakness - her vulnerability

The air around the dinner table felt thick, heavy with an unsaid tension, and yet, I relished it. It was so easy to feel powerful when the people around me were too absorb in their own worlds to notice the crackling tension at the center of it all.

"Hazel, can you pass the salt?"My father's voice broke through my thoughts. I didn't move right away, and his gaze made me feel a jolt of irritation. I tossed the salt shaker across the table with out a word.

"Thanks." He didn't even look at me as he accepted it, he diverted his attention back to my mother- the stupid conversation.

I glanced at Haisely. She hadn't said a word since we sat down. Her posture was slumping, like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

She always looked like that-fragile, weak and broken. Made no noise, no requests. Always trying to make herself invisible in the presence of everyone- especially our parents, trying to blending the background, like a shadow she couldn't escape.

But I notice.

I always noticed.

Her eyes flickered up for a moment, meeting mine, Full of something-something like desperation. It made my skin pickle, tensed but I quickly wiped the feeling away, replaced with a cold emptiness I was used to.Her gaze fell back to her plate almost immediately. Too sudden, and I fought the urge to smile.

It felt good, actually.

Very pathetic.

"I hope you girls are enjoying your return to school is," Mom said, oblivious to the fact that Haisley hadn't even touched her food. "You should communicate more with your mates, Haisley."

"Don't you think it's early to be saying that? " I asked referring to her last words, my voice flat.

"It's never to late to try, Hazel," Mom snapped, not even sparing me a second look. "You could help your twin sister instead of staying inside your little bubble."

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from snorting. My mother always had her favorite -always comfort Haisley like she was some sort of angel sent down from heaven.

But that's what Haisley wanted, wasn't it?

To be loved.

To be perfect.

To be the one everyone talked about with affection in their voices. Too bad she didn't know how to play the game.

I did.

The very first time I realized she was.... weak, was when we were ten. Our birthday, of course. Our parents were out with friends, leaving us at home for the night. And like always, Haisley had tried to make us both a cake. She always tried to make things better, like she was trying to forced happiness into the cracks of our broken family.

I hated it.

It was stupid.

The cake was a disaster, too dry, frost too thick. But she smiled anyway, watching me eagerly as I took my first bite. I remember it so clearly. Her eyes were wide with hope, the kind that only a child could have, the kind I never had. I pretended to savor it, smiling back at her through gritted teeth.

I trashed it anyway, threw the rest of it away-completely unnoticed by her.

The next morning, she had looked so hurt when she found the cake in the garbage, but it was already too late. I didn't care. It felt too good, watching her unravel over something so small, something so insignificant.

But she hadn't learned.

She never did.

I could see it now, too.

How she tried to please everyone, to make everyone happy, to make herself small and quiet, never drawing attention to herself. The more she did that, the more I began to see the cracks-how she was the one who was easily manipulated, easily broken.

Trusted people too much. Believed in them. Hoped that they would never let her down.

I couldn't stand it.

The worst part? She still thought we were "the same." She thought we were connected-two halves of the same whole. I could see it in her eyes every time we stood in the same room, like she was waiting for something, waiting for us to come together, like some sort of cosmic reunion that would make her whole again.

It made me sick.

Iwas better than her.

I had to be.

I just had to keep reminding myself of that. I smiled staring at her, savoring every little emotions she made.

Haisley pushed Hee peas around the plate, the forks scarping lightly against the porcelain. The sound was small, barely audiences, but it sliceed through the human of my parents' conversation like a blade. I watched her, my chin resting on my palm, and tried to decipher what was going on behind those doe-like eyes of hers.

She was thinking about something - I could tell. The way her muscles in her jaw twitched, and every so often she would glance towards me, like she expected me to say something.

Apologize, maybe.

Or smile. Or offer her some kind of mercy I never had.

She should have known better by now.

"I'm finished," she murmured suddenly, her voice so faint it barely existed.

Mom frowned. "But you barely touched your food."

"I'm not hungry."

Of course she wasn't. Haisley never was. She fed on guilt, sadness and silence.

"Go ahead," Dad said absently, waving his hand. "Just rinse your plate."

She rose from her chair, careful and slow like she always was, afraid to make too much noise. I followed her very movement with my eyes,watching how the light brushed her pale hair, how her fingers trembled as she picked up her plate. It was almost beautiful - that fragility. Like a porcelain doll you could drop just to hear it shatter.

She turned to go, her shoulder brushing mine. For a moment, she froze. I felt her tense, her breath caught in her throat, and I smiled without meaning to. She could feel it - my control. She always could.

"Hazel," Mom said sharply, pulling my gaze away. "Stop glaring at Haisely like that."

I blinked, feigning innocence. "Like what?"

"Like you're angry at her."

"I'm not angry," I lied easily, my tone sweet as sugar. "I'm just... watching."

Mom sighed and shook her head, muttering

something about teenage moods, They were just to blind, too blind to see the difference between us and I leaned back in my chair, letting my gaze drift back toward Haisley. She was at the sink, rinsing her plate under the cold water, her back trembling slightly. The water ran and ran, even after the plate was clean. She was stalling - I knew it. Maybe trying to stop herself from crying. Maybe trying to make herself disappear.

Pathetic.