"Student 91.... Patient 91..."
I heard someone calling me by these weird names, but all I could see was black. Just darkness.
When I finally opened my eyes, all I saw were white walls. Every direction I looked, all I could notice was white. Weren't hospital walls supposed to be decorated or something?
Then I saw a woman sitting beside me, wearing fancy clothes, carrying designer bags. I blinked. I couldn't believe it, it was mom. But wait, weren't we dirty poor? How did she pay for all of these things?
I looked into her eyes, hoping for comfort, but instead, I saw something. Disgust. She looked at me like I was something dirty.
Next to her stood a doctor, who looked kind of worried. I tried to move, but I couldn't. My arms were crossed tightly, like I was stuck in straitjacket or something. I could barely move an inch. I looked at my mom in panic, hoping she'd help me. But she didn't. Instead, she just stared.
Then the doctor spoke.
"Patient 91.... Or should I say Claire... You had another episode, and you were unconscious for three days. We were starting to lose hope."
What was this old man talking about? Why was he calling me Claire?
I got angry.
"Why are you calling me by that traitor's name?" I said. "After everything she did to me? You can clearly see what she put me through!"
The doctor didn't even look surprised. He just sighed, like this was normal.
I turned to my mom in terror, but she left the room without saying a word. How could she leave me just like that? I'm her daughter. Right?
A strange silence filled the room. Then something hit me.
A flash. A rooftop. A fall.
A push.
My push.
And in that moment, everything just... stopped.
Because maybe...
I was Claire all along.
I was the one who pushed the real Allie from that rooftop.
And maybe.... I wanted to be her so badly, to be the forgotten one, the victim.
That I lost myself. Until I couldn't tell the difference between Her and Me.