A Step Into the Abyss
Sophie, wheres your sister? You girls are always together! Aunt Margaret couldnt help but ask as she caught sight of her niece rushing by.
The girl stopped abruptly, spun round, and spoke with clear irritation, making no attempt to hide her feelings:
Im Lucy.
The glance she cast at Margaret was sharp enough that the womans smile faltered. Lucy pressed on, holding back a growing annoyance:
And were not so alike that people need to confuse us all the time!
Margaret was honestly bemused. She raised her eyebrows a little, as though trying to spot some difference shed previously missed.
Now, come on, darling she countered gently. Youre twins! When youre quiet, sitting side by side, its impossible to tell you apart. Only when you speak does it become clear whos who.
Lucy felt a fresh wave of exasperation well up within her. She bit her lip, trying not to let her emotions show, and headed hurriedly for the door. Without another word, she stepped out and closed the door firmly behind her.
Left alone, Margaret shook her head slightly, still puzzled by Lucys sharp reaction. Meanwhile, Lucy, striding down the hallway, replayed those too-familiar and endlessly frustrating words in her mind: Like two peas in a pod. To her, it was like a curse she could never quite shake. How long would it last? Why did nobody see the differences between them? Why were they always just the twins to everyone nameless, characterless, with no interests of their own? Questions spun in the girls head, none seemingly with an answer
*********************
Lucy sat hugging her knees on a bench in the park. Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the ground with odd patterns, but she hardly noticed. She was confiding in Emma, once again voicing the worry that had gnawed at her for so long. Lucys voice was quiet, almost hopeless, as she described not for the first time how unbearable it was to be constantly mixed up with her sister.
Emma listened intently, head slightly tilted, eyes suddenly brightening as an idea struck her.
Look, Emma burst out, why dont you do something radical? Get your hair cut short and dye it some wild colour. Then no one would ever get you confused! Sophie would never have the nerve.
Lucy gazed thoughtfully at her long hair, nervously tossing it over her shoulder. For a moment there was a spark of interest in her eyes, but it died away almost at once.
Mum wouldnt give me the money for that, she replied gloomily. She likes us looking alike. What I want doesnt seem to matter.
Emma wasnt ready to give up. She waved her hand dismissively, as if shooing away Lucys doubts.
Just ask for money for something else say, a present for a friend. Then go to that hairdressers down by the station, the one thats cheap as chips. Dad took me there once. Mum complained afterwards that it was too short, but thats exactly what you want!
A glimmer of interest reappeared on Lucys face. She still had some misgivings, but the plan was starting to seem less crazy.
How much is it to dye your hair? she wondered, weighing up the costs.
Emma beamed.
Dont worry, my older sister can do it shes really good. All you need is the dye itself.
Emmas certainty brought a reluctant smile to Lucys lips. Could it really work? Maybe, just maybe, people might finally see her as an individual and not just one of the twins. The faintest hope crept in, though she couldnt quite believe something so simple would make a difference.
A few days later, the two friends put their plan into action. Lucy was nervous but tried not to show it.
The hairdressers was plain and tired-looking a small room, a battered old chair, and mirrors marked with fingerprints. The hairdresser, an older woman with weary eyes, looked Lucy over and asked curtly:
How do you want it?
Lucy hesitated for a split second, but then blurted out:
Short really short!
The woman nodded and set to work with her scissors. She worked quickly, with no idle chat. Lucy watched the locks fall to the floor, her insides twisting knots, but it was far too late to back out.
When it was done, Lucy gingerly checked the mirror. It was short, a bit uneven, but bearable. Well, I certainly dont look like Sophie anymore!
Eyes gleaming with both excitement and nerves, Lucy ran off to see Emma. Emmas older sister was waiting, and after some discussion, they chose a brilliant pink something that would definitely turn heads.
The result surpassed all expectations but regrettably, in the worst way. The pink was almost fluorescent, and paired with the lopsided haircut, Lucys hair looked even wilder. She winced, but braced herself: there was no going back now.
At home, her mother, Julia, turned white the moment she saw her daughter at the door, clutching her chest. The neat, familiar girl shed expected was gone, replaced by a stranger with garish, uneven, shockingly pink hair.
Lucy, what have you done?! For the first time ever, Julias voice was raised. Her hands were shaking and there was panic in her eyes. Have you seen yourself? What are we supposed to do about this?
Lucy clenched her fists, intent on hiding her own dislike of the result. Lifting her chin, she retorted boldly:
I like it! Now no one will mix me up with Sophie!
Julia shook her head, unable to believe this was her child. She fumbled for her phone and started dialling her regular hairdresser.
This needs fixing, straight away! A new style would have been enough you didnt need to do *this*! Her voice was both bewildered and wounded.
Lucy snorted but sneaked another look in the mirror. Deep down, she hated the clashing pink and ragged cut, but couldnt bring herself to admit it.
You wouldnt have let me anyway, she muttered, turning away.
Of course I would! Why ever not? Julia protested, looking at her daughter in genuine confusion. Still clearly shaken, she pressed her phone to her ear, waiting for an answer.
At last, the voice of her hairdresser came through. Julia spoke fast, a little breathless:
Hi, are you free? I need help my daughters had a bit of a makeover You should see her, it’s a disaster! Yes, well be there in an hour.
She covered the mouthpiece and turned to Lucy:
Get ready. Were going to set this right.
Lucy crossed her arms and scowled. She wanted to argue, to insist it was her choice, her right to look how she wished. But by now, she understood: the lurid pink and the uneven cut brought none of the joy and freedom shed imagined. Instead of feeling unique, she just felt awkward and small.
Im fine as I am, Lucy grumbled for forms sake, though without any real conviction.
Julia just shook her head, already gathering together what theyd need.
Come on. Well talk on the way. It cant be left like this.
Half an hour later, they were in the car, heading for the salon. Lucy looked out the window as the trees and rooftops slid by, silently mulling things over. She tried to persuade herself she didnt regret it, but deep down, she knew the experiment was a failure.
At the salon, a kind, familiar stylist greeted them. She eyed Lucy carefully, arching an eyebrow, but made no comment. Instead, she smiled gently.
Lets see what we can do, shall we?
It took a couple of hours. The stylist evened out the haircut and toned the colour as close to natural as possible, leaving just a single lock of pink at Lucys temple a sweet little accent. Lucy watched in the mirror suspicious at first, then more and more curious. Slowly, her appearance transformed: the chaotic mess became a neat, stylish crop, drawing out her features.
When it was done, Julia sighed in relief:
There we are you actually look yourself again!
She thanked the hairdresser profusely:
I dont know what Id have done without you. Youre wonderful.
Lucy said nothing just ran her hand through her hair, sizing up the result. It was all right, really. Still, her mothers words echoed with mild annoyance:
You look human now What was she before, then? Why was she spoken to like that? With Sophie it was never like this!
Lucy offered no thanks, just got up and headed for the exit. Her mind was in a whirl, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She wanted to get home and look at herself in the mirror calmly and critically, not with irritation.
She stubbornly refused to admit the obvious: Sophie would never have done something so reckless. Her sister was the model child straight As, graceful on stage at dance, always with her nose in either Dickens or Austen, organised, never late, neat handwriting, the lot.
Lucy wasn’t daft. She grasped things quickly, could answer a surprise question in class brilliantly if she was in the mood. But it was that very resemblance to her sister that drove her mad. The minute she succeeded at anything: Of course, just like Sophie. And if she slipped up: Sophie would never have done that. Those constant, silent comparisons gnawed away at her confidence, an ever-present irritant.
After the hair disaster, Lucy somehow felt entitled to push boundaries further. Where shed once kept up with her studies and helped around the house, now she was determined to show she wasnt Sophie and to be obvious about it.
Her schoolwork nosedived. Her report book soon filled with Ds and Fs not for lack of understanding, but because she stopped trying. Shed skip assignments, tune out during explanations, even ostentatiously yawn during tests. Once, such grades would have upset her; now she wore them with a kind of defiant indifference.
Of course the parents noticed. At first, they tried to reason with her calmly, with examples, explaining the value of knowledge and discipline. Then, sterner tactics: grounding, confiscating phone and computer, curfews. But every new restriction only steeled Lucys resolve. She didnt rage or shout; she simply did as she pleased, with silent stubbornness.
Youve got your star pupil, Sophie, she told her parents, staring them in the eye, without a trace of embarrassment. Isnt that enough? Im clearly not cut out for great things. Take me as I am.
They exchanged helpless glances, at a loss for what to try next. They saw she was wrecking her own life, but couldnt see how to stop it.
Eventually, they decided to take Lucy to a counsellor. The woman was kind, gentle-voiced, and attentive. She spoke with Lucy at length, seeking common ground, trying to understand the root of her resistance. Lucy was polite, frank without aggression, but her answers lacked any spark. She didnt deny her troubles, nor blame her family; she simply described things as they were.
Maybe the counsellor wasnt up to the task, or maybe Lucy played the role of indifferent rebel too well, but visible improvements were few. She stuck to her story, showed no sign of wishing to change. After a few sessions, the counsellor gently suggested to Lucys parents:
Perhaps its time to ease up a little. The teenage years are a time for self-discovery; sometimes a young person needs space to find their own way.
Lucys parents exchanged another look, unsure whether to be comforted or saddened by the advice. They desperately wanted to help, but now saw they might have to simply wait, to give Lucy the chance to find her own path.
Gradually, the matter of marks in school faded into the background. Her parents still worried, but stopped nagging or laying down ultimatums. They hoped Lucy would come to her senses in her own time. But fresh, far more serious problems were on the horizon.
One day, her mother happened to see Lucy loitering with a crowd of unknown youths near an abandoned railway shed. They were smoking, laughing, talking too loudly. When Lucy caught her mothers eye, she hurried away, but it was obvious she spent a great deal of time with them.
That evening, over dinner, her mother tried to broach the subject:
Sophies friends are so lovely polite, highly strung, always at museums or book clubs. And you? Who even are your friends?
Lucy stayed silent, gripping her fork tighter. The words stung more than shed have guessed. Once again: Sophie is wonderful, Lucy is the opposite. If her sister had the perfect friends, then by rights Lucy must consort with roughnecks she needed to prove, even now, that she wasnt like Sophie.
Thats how she fell in with the crowd. At first she just listened in, then joined the chats, then the parties. She started skipping lessons, just to hang about with her new mates.
Now and then, left alone, Lucy would berate herself: What nonsense is this? She knew her choices were wrong and brought her no real joy, but she couldnt stop herself. Each time she thought of quitting the group, Sophies image composed, successful would appear unbidden, and Lucy would veer off the other way again.
Over time, the sisters paths drifted further apart. Sophie moved up into Sixth Form, while Lucy, after her GCSEs, enrolled herself at a mediocre further education college her choice, despite her parents pleas to consider alternatives. Freedom, she thought a chance to start afresh. In reality, things were harder.
Sophie finished school with top marks and sailed into a prestigious university, breezing through the workload, fitting in volunteering and extra courses, always planning ahead, always calm and together.
Lucy just about scraped through college. She lacked motivation, found it impossible to focus, frequently skipped lessons, and never tried to catch up. The tutors complained, her classmates looked on bewildered, but Lucy clung tightly to doing things differently from Sophie.
After college, not much improved. Sophie landed a promising job at a major firm. She was quickly recognised for her reliability and eagerness to learn, throwing herself into new challenges, already thinking of her future.
Lucy drifted from one job to another this one was draining, that lot too uptight, the pay never quite enough. She never lasted long, always finding a reason to leave. Her parents tried to help, suggesting more stable options, but Lucy waved them away:
Ill manage. I dont need looking after.
Part of her still hoped that shed one day discover her own path something not just not-Sophie, but something actually hers. But every attempt at independence ended in mistakes, and the urge to rebel just weighed heavier.
Lucy herself couldnt work out why she did it. It was like a hidden mechanism: the moment Sophie achieved something top marks, teachers praise, another award Lucy automatically did the opposite. She might be resolved to focus, to behave herself, but one more story about Sophies successes and shed abandon it all.
She hated herself for it. At night, staring at the ceiling, shed promise herself: tomorrow Ill start again, tomorrow Im going to be different. Shed wake up determined to change, and yet always found herself right back where she started. It was like a trap: the harder she tried to break out, the tighter its grip grew.
Gradually, a kind of numbness set in. Lucy stopped ringing her parents, dodged family gatherings, wanted nothing to do with news of Sophies perfectly proceeding life. She cut herself off, building an invisible wall that no one could cross.
And, oddly, thats when things began to turn around.
First came a job not glamorous, but decent, with routine hours and fair pay. Lucy was surprised at how easily she got on with her colleagues. She began coming home feeling shed done something worthwhile.
Then came Tom. Theyd met by chance in a café near work. He wasnt like boys shed known before: calm, sensible, with no need to show off. Tom wasnt trying to impress, and that was what she liked. They started going out, meandering through the city streets and talking for hours, and Lucy for the first time in years found she could just be herself, no posturing, no competition.
Little by little, she began to look forward. Not grand dreams, just simple, real plans: save up for a holiday, learn a language, maybe even find a nicer flat. Life was beginning to take root, at last.
Then, one evening, her mother called. There was something in her mothers voice quiet, hesitant, as if she were afraid to say too much.
Lucy, could you come round, please? We need to talk.
She arrived to find her parents in the sitting room, both looking unusually sombre. Her mother took a long while to find the words, but when she spoke, it changed everything:
Sophie cant have children. The doctors say theres almost no chance.
A heavy silence filled the room. Lucy didnt know what to say. She felt her own sadness, some anger at the world, some wish to comfort her sister. But deep down, something else flickered the same old urge, the compulsion shed tried and failed to crush.
Within a year, Lucy had her first child. Then, a couple of years later, another. She couldnt explain exactly why shed hurried. She loved her children, cherished their smiles, swelled with pride at each first word and step. Yet at the edge of her mind was always the thought: Now Im nothing like Sophie. Now I have what she never will.
Lucy knew it was wrong you cant live your life purely in opposition. But each time she looked at her little ones, she found excuses: I did this for me. I wanted children. It was my choice.
Yet, deep down, she sensed that if not for the news about Sophie, things might have played out very differently
*************************
Sophie listened quietly as their mother once again recounted Lucys latest exploits. Her mothers voice toggled between worry and a faint bewilderment, unsure how to reach her younger daughter, how to help her out of the pit shed dug for herself.
When the story was done, Sophie said quietly but firmly:
Please, dont say anything about me to Lucy.
Her mother looked up in surprise.
But why? Youre sisters
Sophie gave a tired sigh, weighing her words. Shed been turning them over in her mind for some time and was certain she was right.
Shes ruining her life by always trying to do the exact opposite of me, Sophie explained. Every time she hears of my success, it just spurs her on to be more contrary. Shes not searching for her own way, shes just determined not to follow mine.
Her mother wanted to protest, but Sophie continued gently.
If you care at all for her, dont even mention my name to her. Its the kindest thing you can do. She has to forget about me, so she can live her own life, unshadowed by anyone.
Her mother gazed at her, struggling to take this in. It was strange to hear such determination from Sophie, always so soft and caring.
Do you really think thatll work? she asked at last, her voice equal parts worry and hope.
I dont know, Sophie answered truthfully. But weve tried everything else. Talking, pleading, explaining none of thats helped. Maybe if shes not always comparing herself to me, shell finally get the chance to discover who she actually is.
Her mother nodded slowly, though her doubt showed. She understood Sophies logic, but her heart couldnt simply stand by and do nothing for Lucy.
Ill try, she said. But it wont be easy.
Sophie reached out and hugged her gently.
I know. But its what we have to do. For Lucy.
And so, after that talk, her mother started to choose her words more carefully. She did her best not to bring up Sophies successes in Lucys presence, not to compare, not to make her a standard. At first, old habits were hard to shake for years shed found herself praising Sophie, using her as the measure for Lucy. But over time, she learned simply to talk with Lucy about her Lucys own interests, what truly mattered to her.
Sophie too stuck to her decision. She didnt seek out Lucy, didnt call, didnt try to get involved. Sometimes it hurt, knowing there was a wall between them, but she believed it was the only way to give Lucy space to start over.
P.S.
It was Tom, Lucys husband, who insisted she see a proper counsellor. Step by step, gently, she found her way towards a future, one where Sophies shadow no longer loomed a future, at last, she could call her own.
