Chapter VII

                                    

                                          
AN: Before you start reading, I want to warn you, this chapter is kinda long. I couldn't find a way to break it up, I'm sorry! Anyway, enjoy!!
                          
Late that night, I go with my father to Christine's room. As we walk to her room, I'm trying to plan a perfect conversation in my head. When we reach the door, a man comes out, his coat swirling behind him. My father shields his face, but I smile to the man; he doesn't notice either of us. My father enters the room next to the one the man just exited. We walk all the way out to the balcony.
                          
"Jump." My father motions to the balcony across the way. It seems to be a large distance, but I decide to do as my father says. I'm too excited to meet my mother. I hoist myself onto the railing and launch with all my might. After I land, the momentum I had carries me to the other side of the balcony and I slam into the railing. It knocks the wind out of me, but I ignore it and look through the window. I can see the back of woman's head. She's talking to a young boy. From the look on my father's face, I can tell the woman is Christine. The boy must be her son, something that scared me so bad I went to Meg in a panicked heap when I found out.
                          
'She always wanted a daughter', I remember Meg telling me.
                          
I breathe and focus on Christine. My mother. I listen closely, and a familiar feeling sweeps over me.
                          
"Oh god," I say. "Not here. Not now." But the song doesn't come. There is no blinding pain, there is nothing at all. Just her voice.
                          
"It's her." My voice barely above a whisper. I look to my father. "I know it. It's her." My father stares at me in shock. "That's the voice you've been hearing?" He asks. I don't answer immediately, trying to make sense of the situation, but my father grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. "Answer me!"
                          
"Yes!" I answer hurriedly. I look back into the window trying to get a glimpse of my mother's face, but she never turns to the balcony. She sends her son off to bed and looks like she is going that way too, but then a music box on the piano begins to play. Christine freezes and slowly moves toward it. My father steps in front of me and blocks my view. Quickly and quietly, my father opens the balcony doors, keeping me hidden. I can see Christine with the music box over her head, but she turns and sees my father. Her body begins to tremble at the sight of him but keeps a hold of the music box.
                          
"You." She says, racing behind the piano, creating distance between them. It doesn't make any sense. Papa said she left him, but he never said she hated him. My brain is jumbled, and I look out to the sky, noting that it's a very dark black. This isn't good. Christine's voice pulls me back to reality and I hide behind the balcony doors.
                          
"I should have known." Christine continues talking. I decide to watch my father. He remains the picture of calm. "Only you would lure me out here."
                          
"Yes. Well, I had a good reason." My father answers, his voice low. "You needed to meet her." He tilts his head outside to me, so I poke my head around the door frame. I run to my father's side and slowly turn to face Christine. We both stare. It's like looking in a mirror.
                          
The first thing I notice is her eyes. Both our eyes have these yellow like centers with a green colored outside. From what I can remember, I think she has more grey in her eyes. I do notice a bit of an outer rim with a dark blue color. They look so beautiful, so open, so young. Her hair is the same color as mine, a chocolate brown, with almost a hint of red, but her hair is entirely pinned up. Meg just pulled mine back into a ponytail at the bottom of my neck and tied a ribbon into a bow. At the same time, we both reach up and let our hair down. Her hair comes tumbling down and she looks ten years younger. It's almost as long as mine, but hers is more beautiful. The way the curls fall and frame her face is amazing. I would never have guessed we looked so similar until she had done that. Everybody had been right. I was an exact copy of my mother.