Jaimee, hey Jaimee, get up Jaimee, the cops are coming. We’ve got to get out of here. Fine Jaimee; stay here then. Don’t blame me if you get caught.

I gained consciousness and was aware of my sister bending over me- too close so it blurred my vision. Alice noticed me awake and backed up to where I could capture her features- long, black, curls drifting down to the middle of her back, too pale skin from the lack of sunlight, but catching light from the florescent hospital bulbs with each movement she made. We never were close back then- even if we were twins- we had different ideas of living and were polar opposites.
Alice busied herself with feeding me soup that the nurses must have left. I attempted a smile at her motherly appearance, but was not very successful and it was more of a grimace. She merely smiled sadly and continued caring for me.
Alice never once yelled at me and we never spoke about that night- There was no reason even to bring it up. It would only cause hurt feelings and broken hearts to try to make things better.
“Jaimee, everyone is entitled to one mistake,” my mother used to tell me when she was alive, “Just don’t ever make too big of a mistake that you can’t fix in the morning.”
In a few days I was able to function alone without hospital support and I was allowed to go home. I began to draw. I was young, maybe fifteen and I needed an outlet other than alcohol and partying for my emotions. When I drew, I was captivated and changed by the way that drawing changed my moods. Drawing calmed me and I treasured every moment of being able to be who I really was. There were never any secrets in my drawings.
I began to get really good at it. Alice took me to several art competitions and I won first place on some. But it never was about the contests; It was about living and escaping the bad things in life.
There was one painting that I recall above all the others. It was a face, almost identical to Alice’s and mine with the same long, black, curly hair as well, yet it had rosy cheeks and a smile that could melt your heart. This is how I remember my mother; she was strong and beautiful. A goddess and a wonderful person.
Alice led me aside during one contest and held my pale hand in hers, they were almost identical, “You remind me of mother,” she told me. “You are determined not to hurt others and you treasure beauty. You would have made her proud.”
Alice and I became very close after that. She was my stand-in mother, my sister, and my best friend. She was an incredible person who, by letting me work my problems out by myself also let me find myself in all the destruction.