Vicarious (35 page)

“A bunch of research,” I repeat woodenly. Like I'm an experiment. Like I'm a mouse in a cage. I swallow hard. “And you went along with this because you believed him? Or you were afraid he might fire you?”

Jesse stares down at his hands. “Both, I guess. I care about you, and Gideon's a smart guy. I hoped it would work.”

“If you care about me so much, why didn't you just tell me the truth?” I ask incredulously.

“I wanted to tell you so many times, but Gideon said the hospital tried to orient you to reality when you were younger, and it didn't work. He said you got unstable. Violent.”

I tremble visibly. I can almost hear Rose telling me she wouldn't let the hospital keep me.
Hospitals are for the dying, and we are only just beginning to live.
Only it wasn't real. None of it was real.

“It felt so lifelike.” My voice wavers. “How did you do it?”

Jesse exhales deeply. “Baz grabbed you one night when you were being Rose. He and Gideon took you to Riverlights and shot you full of ketamine to mimic a near-death experience and some other drug to make you forget what happened, just in case.”

“Being Rose?” I furrow my brow.

Jesse rubs at his scar. He glances toward the front door. “When are you expecting Gideon to get home?”

I ignore his question. “What do you mean, being Rose?”

“I'm not sure I'm the person you should be hearing this from,” Jesse says weakly. “Gideon—”

“Is not here. Please, Jesse. You can't just come up here, tell me that my sister has been dead for years, and then not explain anything else.”

He exhales deeply. “Okay. The ViSEs you and I have been playing are real.” He pauses. “Gideon said you couldn't let her go. That you loved her so much you made her part of you. You let her … take over sometimes, in situations when you can't cope.”

“Wait. You're saying that it's
more
than hallucinating? That I have … multiple personalities or something?” I shake my head violently. “No. That's not possible.” But then I think about the blackouts. I think about the voice in my head that sometimes talks to me in Rose's words. “I see what you're saying, but the things she did—I would never have done those things. I
can't
do those things. You know that.” Is Jesse really trying to convince me I danced with strangers at Zoo and made out with random switch-party guys? Is he trying to convince me I had sex with him and honestly don't remember?

“I mean, maybe this other part of you was there even before Rose died,” Jesse says. “Maybe you created it to deal with your life in L.A.”

I turn away. I need for Jesse to be wrong, for this all to be wrong. I flip through the papers, looking for something. Anything. I don't know what. There are a couple other visit summaries from hospital admissions that I don't even remember. The papers say basically the same things as the ER record: psychotic episodes, panic attacks, complex PTSD. Apparently several types of medication were tried, but nothing was effective against my hallucinations.

Below the medical records, I find Rose's fake birth certificate and some documents that show Gideon as our legal guardian. And then, at the bottom of the folder, a single picture of Rose and me mugging for the camera, wearing matching red dresses.

The entire memory floats back.

One of Kyung's men brought us to the hotel room. Gideon welcomed us inside; he was still Ki Hyun then. He bolted the door behind us and swept my sister—still Min Ji—into an embrace. I turned toward the blank TV screen to give them privacy and noticed the two boxes perched on the edge of the bed—long, flat boxes with brilliant red ribbons.

“Come here, silly Ha Neul.” Ki Hyun pulled me into the hug, and for a moment all three of us were one, a tangle of arms and heat. “The preparations are almost completed.”

“But where will we go?” I broke away from our awkward embrace.

“I picked a place for us.” Ki Hyun's hand lingered on my sister's lower back. “Big enough to hide in, but small enough that no one would ever guess. I've already started buying things and putting them in storage.”

“Things for our new life!” my sister added. “It'll be just the three of us.”

Ki Hyun ruffled her hair playfully. “I just need to take some pictures of you both.”

Min Ji immediately wrapped an arm around my shoulder and posed—her smile bright, her free hand arranged in a peace sign.

Ki Hyun laughed. “As it's sort of a special occasion, I thought you might like to dress up first.” He gestured toward the boxes.

Min Ji squealed. “Presents! Let's open them.”

We tore open the boxes eagerly to find matching scarlet dresses, with gentle scoop necks and flowing skirts. They were two of the most gorgeous dresses I had ever seen. We got dressed in the bathroom, and my sister painted my eyes and lips with makeup. Then we posed for half a dozen photos, some proper for official papers, some silly just for fun.

The last photo we took was the two of us standing in front of the hotel window, both of us with our hands raised in peace signs.

This is the photo I am now holding.

We look so happy.

We look so hopeful.

You can see the fading cross-shaped scars on our palms—mine on my right, hers on her left.

A pair of sisters like matching gloves.

I'm left-handed. My sister was right-handed. It hits me that Rose's scar was on her right hand in the overdose recording. Which means Jesse is telling the truth.

Unless I'm remembering wrong.

“I need to play the ViSE one more time,” I mutter.

My headset is on the coffee table, with the recording still loaded inside. I turn away from Jesse and cross the apartment in a few hurried steps, both anxious and terrified to know the truth. What's worse? That I'm clinically insane, or that the only two people in the world I trust killed my sister and are now conspiring to drive me crazy … and succeeding? Either way, Rose is gone.

“I need to be alone for a few minutes.” I grab the headset and disappear into my bedroom. Lying on my bed, I skip forward to the middle of the ViSE.

A rush of warmth pulses up my right arm. The kaleidoscope blurs into a rainbow and the smell of something sweet tickles my nose. A clove cigarette. The figure releases the tourniquet with a sharp snap and takes my hand. I can barely make out the cross-shaped scar carved into my palm.

My right palm.

I rip the headset off and fling it across the room. I can't breathe. I yank the comforter from my bed. Dropping to the floor, I wrap the blanket around me like armor.

Jesse peeks in through the open door. Tentatively he kneels down, maintaining a few feet of distance. “I'm sorry,” he says, for what feels like the millionth time. “Gideon really thought he might be able to heal you.”

I feel many things right now. Healed is not one of them. “Her ViSEs? I did all those things?”

Jesse fiddles with his hearing aid. “Yes.”

My brain is spinning. Everything begins to make sense in the worst way. I'm missing pieces of time. I sometimes wake up feeling like I haven't slept. If I actually believed it possible that I might have killed my own sister, is it really a stretch to believe that I could have stayed out all night making sexy ViSEs? “I don't want to believe you,” I say. “If I've truly been acting as Rose, that means Gideon and I—it means … who knows how many people…” Nausea wells in my stomach.

“No. Gideon never touched you. Not like I did.” Jesse hangs his head. “I thought he was going to kill me, seriously. Once he saw how far your alter would go with your body, that's when he said we had to figure out a way to get rid of her.”

How far your alter would go with your body.
How can I have no clue about the things I've done or the people I've done them with? “If all this is true, how could you still want to be with me?” I think of all those strangers at the switch party, of the way I tried to convince Rose—myself—that I didn't need to be that girl.

Jesse scoots closer to me. “Winter,” he starts. “None of that affects the way I feel about you. You're smart and kind and resilient. You're the strongest person I've ever known.” His eyes fall to the initials tattooed on his wrist. “And I have known some strong people.”

I want to feel his pain right now, but I can't. All I can feel is my own. My heart grows hard as my brain begins to fill in more blank spots. “When did it happen—you and me?”

Jesse looks down at the floor. “A few weeks ago. Not too long after we finished our snowboarding ViSE.”

I think back over the past month. There was one morning Jesse had acted really odd. “The day you brought over breakfast.”

He nods. “Gideon was out of town. You called me. I spent the night. I left to get food while you were asleep, and when I came back, it was like it had never happened. You turned me away and told me you had to study. I thought maybe you just needed time to process things, but Gideon came to see me in my apartment when he got home. He said we had to do something—that I had to help him if I wanted to keep my job. I agreed to keep his secret and watch out for you afterward, but I couldn't bring myself to be involved in the actual ViSE. So he used Baz.”

Baz. The other recorder, the one who had felt almost emotionless. Of course.

“You planned this for weeks?” Suddenly every look he's given me, every innocent touch from the past month feels tainted.

“We talked about it. But then Gideon got some call from a paranoid viser and had the idea to make it look like retaliation for a recording. We just wanted you to get better.”

“I can't—are you serious? You think this is
better
?” My left hand curls into a fist. “I think you should go now.”

“Winter—”

“You helped him take my sister away from me in the most horrible way possible. Please, just leave.”

“She wasn't real,” Jesse says.

“She was real to
me
.”

I'm still here,
a voice whispers.

But I ignore it. She's not real anymore. Rose is dead and I am crazy. And Jesse is sitting on my bedroom floor with his scarred face, disfigured ear, and an armful of dead comrades. And he seems so normal in comparison, so whole.

Something shatters inside me and I am on him, tears falling, fists flying. It's like punching a granite cliff, but I don't care. A strike to the chest. An uppercut to the chin. Jesse's head snaps back. Pain explodes through my knuckles, but it doesn't feel real. Nothing feels real. It's like I'm watching myself from outside my body.
Stop,
a voice whispers. I should stop. I can't stop. I don't want to stop.

“Fight back,” I scream. But he doesn't. So I hit him again, this time in the mouth. My bones feel like they're coming through my skin. Droplets of blood spray through the air, dancing across my eyelashes. I lash out once more.

“Enough.” Jesse catches my fist and twists my arm behind my back. He pins my body to the floor. “I deserved a couple decent shots, but killing me won't make you feel better. I'm not the one who needs to fight back right now, Winter. This isn't you.”

I wrestle beneath his weight, kicking upward with my feet. “You're wrong. This
is
me. Unstable.
Violent.
Those are the words you used, right? That's what I am.” I struggle again, but Jesse outweighs me by almost a hundred pounds and he's not budging. “You can't pick and choose. The girl you care about doesn't exist.”

“She does exist,” Jesse says. “I was wrong. This is you, but it's not all that you are. You can fight the dark parts if you want to.”

Tears leak from my eyes, each one feeling like a traitor, like maybe they're products of some secret piece of me controlled by someone else. “I don't know if I want to,” I rasp.

Jesse sighs. “I know what that's like.”

My body goes limp beneath his. I'm too tired to fight anymore. This is all too much.

After a couple of minutes, Jesse slides off me and sits with his back against the wall. Gradually I pull myself to a seated position and face him. His mouth is a mess of blood where I've split his lip.

I fight the urge to reach out and touch it, to take care of him. Jesse lied to me. I don't care what his reasons were. “You should go,” I say.

“I'm not going to leave you like this.”

“You're the
reason
I'm like this—you and Gideon.” Each word hits Jesse like a separate stab wound. His shoulders hunch. His body folds in on itself.

“Try not to blame Gideon,” he says quietly. “I'm the selfish one. Not him.”

My eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“Gideon wanted to protect you. He kept hoping eventually your personalities would blend together, that if he loved you enough and gave you time, you would heal. I kept telling myself it was the same for me. I was playing along not to keep my job, but for your own good.” He looks down at the carpet. “But the truth is, part of me just didn't want to share you. Not with club rats. Not with loser switch-party boys. Not with Andy Lynch.”

The blood drains from my face. Oh no. Andy. I bite back a scream of frustration. How many other people did I sleep with when I was pretending to be my dead sister? “Like I said, you should go.” Rising to my feet, I leave Jesse on the floor of my bedroom, still bleeding from his mouth.

I cross the hall into the bathroom. Punching the lock on the door, I lean back against it. My stomach twists with nausea as I consider everything I've just learned. I sink to the ground and bury my face in my hands. This cannot be happening. “Eonni,” I whisper. I want my sister. I need her to come get me and take me to wherever she is.

“Winter.” Jesse knocks on the door. “Are you all right in there?”