Chapter 1
I was sure about three things concerning Mina:
1. Nobody talked about her. Ever.2. She was autistic.3. One day, she was just gone.
Other than that I couldn’t remember much. Which was weird, because we were both nine when she vanished. I should remember more than the few blurry images that fluttered into my brain when I was slipping into sleep. I should remember more of her. Her laugh. Her movements. Her personality.
But I couldn’t. Maybe it was because she didn’t do any of that. Maybe she was just a shell of herself. Maybe she didn’t talk or laugh or communicate in any way, shape or form. Or not in any way we understood. Maybe she never recognized me or played with me growing up. Maybe she lived in a world that most people, not even me as her twin sister, had access to. Maybe she realized that she was alone and that is why she left.
But I know everyone is different. Especially autistic people. I was lucky to meet a few, wonderful humans that let me know they were on the spectrum. They were full of wonder, and life and personality. And it made me wonder and doubt about my sis. She must have been there. Not only her body but her mind and personality as well. Why did no one ever ackowledge her existence after she was gone?
Mom didn’t talk about her. I did try to ask a few times. I really did. But whenever I brought up Mina, Mom would push it aside. She would give a non-answer and then change the subject. I always thought it was because she was grieving. She couldn’t bear to speak about her daughter that - thirteen years ago - had vanished without a trace.
There were theories. Everyone had their own. But no one would tell. I could just assume what they were. The police investigation was still open but not active. No one ever looked into it. I think the conclusion was that she had wandered away and possibly drowned or had fallen off a cliff.
It wasn’t far fetched. Plausible even.
My childhood home, an old farmhouse, was settled in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by small fields of wheats and strawberries, right next to a dense forest. But not one of those nice, green, and lush forests. It was one of those forests that the deeper you got in, the darker it got, the creepier it got. There were steep drops appearing out of nowhere, there were mud puddles so deep they could reach your hip, creeks that could grow into full blown rivers when it rained, there were lianas that made you stumble and fall and dense bushes with thornes that ripped up your skin.
I didn’t like that forest. I never have. The only times I ever walked in was because boys from school wanted to make out. If they suggested leaving the path I suggested they should piss off.
Maybe that was, were Mina had gone to. And never returned from. Maybe.
And to be honest, as no one ever talked about her, I started to forget too. I started to forget I ever even had a sister. Once I moved out to university I was often asked: “Do you have any siblings?” and after a short pause I would say “No”. I didn’t have any.
Mina wasn’t part of my life. She was gone. Yet I could never shake off this feeling of sadness. That something was missing. That she was missing. And no one but me was missing her.
