Chapter 3
"You think talking like her, calling me the way she does, is enough to become her? Who do you think you are? Just a cheap knockoff, and you think you're worthy of imitating her?" Stanley's words hit like a slap.
It hurt. It really hurt.
My cheek had to be swollen by now.
But inside, I was totally calm.
Perfect. The stronger his reaction, the better my act was working.
My voice shook as I imagined how Eileen used to act all sweet and pitiful with the guy she loved, and I tried to copy that.
I whimpered, "Stanley, please don't be like this. I'm scared.
"It's my fault. Don't be mad at me, okay? I promise I'll change, I won't do it again. Please don't ignore me, don't be so harsh to me."
I even reached out, trying to touch his tightly clenched fist.
The moment my fingers brushed his fist, Stanley froze in place.
His eyes locked onto the tears streaming down my face.
His gaze lingered on my cautious, pitiful expression.
His rage ebbed away like a receding tide.
In that instant, it felt like time had turned back.
A powerful illusion of time rewinding swept over him.
It was as if he was watching the past play out before his eyes, the girl who used to tug at his sleeve, acting all sweet and clingy, and who was so pure and innocent.
He seemed to meet the Eileen who hadn't yet been hardened by all the family drama and who was his and his alone.
He'd wished a thousand times she could be the girl she once was.
And now, it was like his wish had come true at last.
All those emotions came flooding in, overwhelming him.
Suddenly, he spun around, caught my arm, and yanked me straight into his embrace.
He pleaded, "Eileen, yes, this is you. This is how you're supposed to be. Why did you have to change? Please, don't change.
"I've told you before, that was my fault. It's been three years already. Why do you keep holding onto it?"
He hugged me so tightly, his voice shaking as he kept mumbling all sorts of things.
I could feel just how much Stanley loved Eileen.
No, it was the kind of love that was burned into his heart, the love he had for the Eileen from back then.
Stanley froze for a moment before gently pushing me away.
My eyes were brimming with tears as I looked up at him, still weak and helpless.
He reached out and softly wiped away my tears.
"Remember, from now on, you're staying right here. You're not going anywhere. Just stay here and be Eileen," he said.
I caught that crazy possessiveness in his eyes, so I nodded, playing along.
"You're only allowed to show this side of yourself to me," Stanley said.
With that, he turned and strode out of the villa without looking back.
I watched his retreating figure as he left.
I lowered my head, a subtle smirk playing at my lips.
Tonight, my sleep was restless.
I dreamed about the day I was seven, when my parents' car went off a cliff.
I was pulled out of the wreckage.
I just stood there, staring blankly at the two stretchers covered in white sheets.
Suddenly, all my relatives came rushing in.
They started shouting at each other, faces red, all scrambling for the payout and insurance money.
In the end, I got shuffled between a bunch of controlling uncles, totally lost and clueless about what was going on.
For two whole years, I had to endure all their cold stares and snide remarks.
One bitterly cold winter when I was nine, I accidentally broke my cousin's toy. My aunt shoved her finger right in my face and screamed, calling me a walking disaster, the reason my parents died.
In the end, they kicked me out of the house with nothing but a few tattered clothes.
The snow was coming down in thick sheets, and I curled up on a street corner, convinced I was going to freeze to death.
That morning, while she was out early sweeping the snow, Lara Rees found me.
She didn't ask a single question, just took off her old padded coat, wrapped it around my almost-frozen body, and brought me back to her tiny place, barely 300 sq feet in size.
It was in Lara's tiny apartment that I first met Donovan Cochran.
He brought over some hot water and, with awkward little movements, tried to warm up my frozen, purple hands.
And there was a bowl of warm soup, sprinkled with scallions. It was honestly the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted.
The dream shifted.
Lara took me in, and even with barely enough to get by, she always managed to make her tiny home feel warm for me.
Whenever there was meat or veggies, she'd make sure the best bits landed in my bowl and Donovan's.
She'd always smile and say, "Honey, you're still growing. Eat a little more."
School was hell for me.
People bullied me, called me an orphan, said I was just worthless trash nobody wanted.
But Donovan always stepped up, throwing himself in front of me, fighting for me and arguing back every single time. Even if he ended up bruised and bloody, he never once backed down.
Life had its sweet moments, and I had mine too.
"Amelia, I'm heading off to Brookville to work for a bit. You stay here and take care of my mom, alright? When school's about to start, I'll come back and get you," Donovan said.
That summer after we graduated high school, Donovan was full of youthful energy, looking sharp and confident, his eyes filled with endless hope for the future.
I nodded. "Just be careful when you get to Brookville. You look way too much like that jerk Stanley. I heard those rich folks love snatching up doubles just to play with them."
His ears went red. "Oh, like you're any better? You look even more like Eileen."
Things got quiet between us.
Suddenly, he glanced over at me, a spark in his eyes.
"Those rich folks get their kicks playing with lookalikes. So what about us broke kids... think we could have some fun with it too?" he joked.
He said it with a teasing tone.
His teasing faded, and his eyes turned serious.
He looked at me, eyes sparkling with anticipation.