Alternative

| Chapter Twenty One

"Rayna, come on, kiss me again!

The video continues to play. I can't seem to look away. I listen to the voices, dig into my head, into my memories. Every part of me tries to find these same thoughts, the same moments in my past, but I can't.

I know it is my face that plays in the video, but how can I be so sure it's me? If I don't remember it, did it even happen at all? That's impossible.

"No one has to know, come on! Rayna, kiss me!"

I step back and my foot hits Emery's chair. She groans again, causing me to look down at her. For a second, I keep my eyes away from the screen and look at my wife. The only woman that matters.

"Rayna, don't you love me?"

"Don't look away!" Elizabeth shouts.

I jump at the sound of her voice. My hand shoots out and grabs the back of Emery's chair. She groans again, whimpering beside me, but I lift my head as I'm instructed to do.

Elizabeth bites her lip. "If you miss any part of this you won't understand what all of this means."

Slowly moving my head, I look back at her. A sudden burst of fresh tears moistens the dried makeup on her face. It makes it worse, like a porcelain doll tossed in a heap of trash.

With a gulp, I step back and stand behind Em. I put my hands on my wife's shoulders. The feeling of her warmth beneath my fingers is what I need to keep me grounded. "I don't know what this is," I answer honestly. "How am I supposed to understand this?"

"You love me, too, right? Tell me you love me."

I squeeze Em's shoulders. "For all I know, you created this. Made it all up," I say to Elizabeth.

"You said you'll love me forever, right?" The voices continue to echo on the screen. With a quick glance at the television, I see the teens have fallen in the grass. Elizabeth's younger self cups the other girl's face in her hands. I have to clench my jaw as I try not to notice the similarities.

She isn't me. I'm not her. This has to be fake.

"You think I created these?" Elizabeth shakes her head as she slams her hand on the side of the television. "Mem-blocks have only been a thing for five years! There's no way I created something before that."

I purse my lips and squeeze Em so hard she whimpers. Loosening my grip, I look down at her and find her eyes open. Tears rim them as she weakly looks up at me.

"Em..." I whisper.

"No!" Elizabeth slams her hand again. "Look here, not at her! Look up here!"

I do, but not because I want to. Doing what she says ensures Emery's safety.

I hope.

"Pay attention!"

When I look back at the screen, I see the teens connect. The memory may be from one's point of view, from Elizabeth's eyes, but I know they kiss. The sound of lips meeting each other echoes; the moans only mean the kiss is heated. With a roll, they move in the grass. Blades of green obscure the memory feed for a moment.

Then, the memory Elizabeth moves back. She gives a full, close, clear view of the teen girl beneath her. Even with her flushed cheeks, I cannot lie to myself. She's me. Everything about her—her nose, the hazel color of her eyes, the birthmark over her top lip—is me. Even without the scar, I can't deny the fact.

But as I see it, acknowledge it, I feel sick all over again. I don't remember any of it. So it can't, it just can't.

"Kim, I fucking love you," my doppelganger says.