Chapter one –
Before
Camden
You ever notice how people love twins until they realize you’re human? Until they realize it isn’t magic, it’s math. A copy. A mirror. A constant reminder that you’re not special because someone else has your exact face.
My brother, Colin, hated mirrors. I didn’t. I liked checking if we still lined up. Same jaw, same green eyes, same scar from when our father thought “discipline” meant throwing a glass ashtray and seeing which one of us could dodge faster. Spoiler: neither of us did.
We were twelve when he first said it. Lying on the roof of the pool house, smoking one of our father’s Cuban cigars we’d stolen. He blew the smoke slow, eyes fixed on the stars like they’d written him a private message. “One day, I’ll disappear,” he said.
“Yeah, sure,” I laughed, coughing through my first drag. “Where? Monaco? Rehab?”
He didn’t laugh. Just smiled the way Colin always did, like he knew something I didn’t. And maybe he did.
Our father loved pitting us against each other. Who could run faster. Who could hold their breath underwater longer. Who could take a punch and not cry. Everything was a game, and he was the referee who changed the rules whenever he got bored. Colin always tried to win. I always tried to make losing look intentional. Together we thought we were untouchable. Together we believed he couldn’t break us if we refused to play by his script.
The night before he died, we sat in the back of his car, identical Ferraris our father gave us for turning eighteen, engines purring like predators we couldn’t control. We’d raced until our lungs burned, tires screaming on asphalt. He laughed, head thrown back, hair a mess. He looked more alive than I’d ever seen him.
And then he said it again.
“I’ll disappear, Cam.”
I told him to fuck off. Told him he was being dramatic. Told him we’d survive our father just to spite him.
Next morning, Colin was a ghost with my face.
They said suicide. A gun in his mouth, mess on the marble. I didn’t see it. Maybe because no one wanted me to. Maybe because they knew if I did, I’d never stop seeing it.
And here’s the funny part: when people look at me now, sometimes they pause. Like they can’t tell if I’m the dead one.
Sometimes I wonder the same.