Mirror Image

Two bells rang in the night. Tim always came at two.

James wiped tears with trembling hands, peered into the darkness at his twin.

He stood in the doorway, a twisted grin on his ruined face. “Come.”

James followed him to the banister.

Tim walked awkwardly, favouring the side that struck the floor weeks ago. “You go, I go. That’s what you said.” His words were mangled from his broken mouth.

Two bells had rung out that day, then a wet thud: Tim had jumped, missing the pillows laid out to cushion his landing.

“Jump!”

James sobbed.

Compelled, he climbed.