“Do you understand?”

“No, not at all.”

Monika sighed and leaned her head against the wall of the room they shared. Her twin looked at her, eyebrows knitted together and mouth a thin line. Mimi sighed and broke the gaze. She twirled a finger through her hair, a motion that Monika had been doing already.

“I just don’t see why you have to leave.”

“So that I can go and get help. For the both of us.”

Mimi scowled, hand pulling free from her hair. “You won’t come back for me. You’ll be gone and I’ll waste away to nothing.”

Monika rolled her eyes. “You’re being a drama queen.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m just getting help.”

“You won’t come back.”

“I’ve told you I will.”

“You’ll leave me here. I’m going to die!”

Monika took a steadying breath. She looked into Mimi’s wide brown eyes, her own eyes. How many years had she been aware of Mimi, twenty, twenty-one? In all that time Mimi had always pulled at her, always wanted to be close, never understanding that Monika wasn’t good for her. Wasn’t right.

“I need to do what’s best for us. Not us together, us separate. What will benefit you and what will benefit me,” Monika replied, her tone even.

She looked at the small plastic cup between them. The object that had started the fight. Two small white pills walled off from the pain of the room by their flimsy, plastic prison. Antipsychotics. The word still hung heavy between them. Antipsychotics to make her better. To stop the hallucinations, the delusions, the dysfunctional way of thinking that had brought them here.

To make Monika go away.

The doctor had come in and placed them in front of her, looked at Mimi, checking over Mimi’s vitals, checking her eyes, and then left after explaining how this was for the best. How Mimi could get her life back on track.

“Mimi, look at me.”

Mimi brought her eyes up, her mouth a puckered pout.

“You have to take the pills. You have to get better. Do you understand?”