The woman in my memory

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

THE WRONG DAUGHTER

I couldn't breathe.

I stood behind the curtain, listening to my mother and Adrian argue about a woman who looked exactly like me.

A woman they claimed wasn't Liyana.

But if she wasn't Liyana...

Who was I?

My fingers tightened around the curtain.

I needed to hear everything.

“We have to find her,” my mother whispered.

Adrian shook his head.

“She already found us.”

“What?”

“She knows about the suitcase.”

My mother's eyes widened.

“How?”

“I don't know.”

“She can't have it.”

“She doesn't.”

“Then where is it?”

Adrian looked around the room.

“Somewhere she thinks nobody will look.”

My stomach dropped.

The suitcase.

They were talking about the suitcase beneath the bed.

I slowly stepped backward.

My shoe touched something.

A metal tray.

It fell.

CLANG!

Both of them turned.

“Who's there?”

I ran.

I pushed through the door and sprinted down the corridor.

“Liyana!”

I didn't stop.

I heard Adrian behind me.

My heart pounded as I turned a corner.

I entered the first room I saw and closed the door.

A supply room.

I pressed my back against the wall.

Footsteps passed outside.

“Where did she go?” Adrian asked.

“I don't know,” my mother replied.

“She can't leave the hospital.”

“I know.”

Their voices faded.

I waited.

Then I looked around.

Shelves.

Medical supplies.

A small window.

Another door.

I opened it.

It led into a staircase.

I went down.

One floor.

Two.

Until I reached the basement.

The lights flickered above me.

I followed a narrow corridor until I found an old security office.

The door was unlocked.

Inside were rows of monitors.

I switched one on.

Then another.

Hospital cameras.

I searched through them.

Emergency room.

Reception.

Parking lot.

Corridors.

Then I found Room 314.

I pressed play.

The screen showed the room from three nights earlier.

A woman entered.

My face.

I leaned closer.

She walked toward the bed.

Then she looked directly at the camera.

She smiled.

My blood ran cold.

She knew she was being watched.

She reached into her pocket.

Pulled out a photograph.

Then held it toward the camera.

I paused the recording.

The photograph showed two little girls.

Me and Elena.

But something was different.

Written across the photograph in red ink were three words:

WE WERE SWITCHED.

I stared at the screen.

“Switched?”

I searched through the recordings.

Another camera.

Another angle.

The woman left Room 314.

I followed her through the corridor.

She entered an elevator.

I changed cameras.

She exited on the ground floor.

Then she walked outside.

A black car was waiting.

Someone stepped out.

A man.

I paused.

I recognized him.

My father.

Except...

My father had supposedly been overseas for six months.

I stared at the screen.

“What are you doing here?”

The recording continued.

My father hugged the woman.

Then he said something.

There was no sound.

I rewound.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

The camera had no audio.

But I could read his lips.

I knew what he said.

“Liyana.”

My heart stopped.

The woman was Liyana.

The real Liyana.

I stepped away from the monitor.

Then who was I?

---

A noise came from behind me.

I turned.

Nobody.

I looked around the security room.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then my phone vibrated.

I froze.

I didn't have a phone.

At least, I didn't think I did.

I searched my hospital gown.

Nothing.

The vibration came again.

I followed the sound.

It was coming from inside the desk.

I opened the drawer.

A phone was hidden underneath a stack of papers.

The screen lit up.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

I answered.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then a woman's voice.

My voice.

“Are you alone?”

I couldn't speak.

“Who are you?”

“That's the wrong question.”

“Then what's the right one?”

A pause.

“Ask yourself why you survived.”

My heart raced.

“What happened to Elena?”

“She was never supposed to die.”

“What does that mean?”

“You need to leave the hospital.”

“Who are you?”

Another pause.

Then:

“I'm the reason you're alive.”

The call ended.

I stared at the phone.

Then it rang again.

This time, a message appeared.

CHECK YOUR LEFT WRIST.

I looked down.

The number.

17.

It was still there.

I rubbed it.

It wouldn't disappear.

Then I noticed something I hadn't seen before.

The mark wasn't ink.

It was a tiny tattoo.

A Roman numeral.

XVII.

Seventeen.

I searched the desk.

There were files everywhere.

Patient records.

Medical reports.

I opened the first one.

Nothing.

Second.

Nothing.

Third.

Then—

PATIENT 17.

I opened it.

My photograph was attached.

But underneath it was a different name.

SUBJECT: ELENA MKHIZE

I dropped the file.

“No.”

I turned the page.

There was a medical report.

The date was seven years ago.

The patient had been admitted after a serious family incident.

Two girls.

Same age.

Same appearance.

One patient listed as Elena.

The other as Liyana.

Then one sentence had been highlighted.

IDENTIFICATION WAS PURPOSEFULLY ALTERED AT THE REQUEST OF THE MOTHER.

I couldn't breathe.

My mother had changed someone's identity.

But why?

I turned the page.

There was another note.

PATIENT 17 WILL BE INFORMED OF HER TRUE IDENTITY ONLY AFTER THE OTHER SUBJECT RETURNS.

I read it again.

Then again.

The other subject.

Returns.

I looked toward the security monitors.

The woman who looked like me had returned.

She was alive.

And she was somewhere nearby.

I heard footsteps approaching the security room.

I grabbed the file.

The door opened.

I raised my hands defensively.

But it wasn't Adrian.

It was a woman.

She stepped into the room.

She had my face.

Exactly my face.

She stared at me.

Neither of us moved.

Then she smiled sadly.

“Finally.”

My voice came from her mouth.

I whispered:

“Elena?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

I frowned.

“Then who are you?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

She stepped closer.

“My name is Liyana.”

I stepped backward.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You're lying.”

“I wish I was.”

She reached into her coat.

Pulled out an old photograph.

She handed it to me.

It showed three women.

My mother.

Elena.

And me.

But there was something written on the back.

I turned it over.

My stomach dropped.

THE GIRL YOU CALL LIYANA ISN'T LIYANA.

I looked up.

Liyana was crying.

“I've spent seven years trying to find you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were taken from me.”

“By who?”

She looked toward the door.

Then whispered:

“By our mother.”

I stared at her.

“But if you're Liyana...”

She nodded.

“And if I'm not Liyana...”

Her voice broke.

“Then you're Elena.”

The lights suddenly went out.

And in the darkness, somebody locked the security room door from the outside.