Eve’s accident is nothing new, for it was an old story that
my family seldom talks of now. What shocked me was how the mind can play tricks, hiding the trauma sensation and the horrific detail.
Worse, I noticed patterns within my novels that I had
feverishly been writing for decades. I never noticed them before: broken glass,
blood, disfigured faces and characters running north to a hideout. They were
everywhere.
 |
| Climactic scene in my novel involving a broken bottle. |
The image shows an early excerpt from my novel, The Lessons. Main protagonist, Aidan breaks a glass bottle, causing injury before he flees north to a hideout. I have altered his name as it bears clues to my family's identity.
The Fuel behind my Novels
It seemed my novels were fuelled by a traumatic event of when I
was 4, and I hadn’t even realized!
So what happened to my twin Eve one August day in 1969?
Well, for years, I had believed Eve had fallen on a glass cabinet. We were alone at the time. We rarely discussed the incident, but in 1996 I received counseling after suffering a bout of
intrusive thoughts. These horrific episodes have haunted me since my deepest childhood
and I reasoned Dad’s psychotic episodes had been the cause. During the counselling, my troubled childhood was aired including my old grievances.
I decide to dust down my old diaries and write a summary. A week later, I am left feeling emotionally
bruised after reliving my difficult childhood. My twin Eve and I then meet up to fill the void of
my pre-writing years.
Here is an abridged account taken from my book Mirror Image Shattered.
“Eve and I tried to recall events of my pre-diary years. We talked on Dad's illness and Mum's difficult moods. The subject of Eve’s scar of course came up.
I said to her, ‘I sort of remember what
happened on that day, but what do you remember?’
To which she replied, ‘We had an argument over orange
juice.’
To which I came back, ‘Yes, you fell on the glass
cabinet, didn’t you?’
Eve stared aghast and I sensed tension. ‘No,’ she replied, ‘you threw a glass bottle at me.’
I frowned with exasperation. ‘What? No, I didn’t!’
Eve grew adamant. ‘Yes, you did. You threw the glass
at me.’
At that instant, a clear image of her face condensed
into my head. Eve had been right. She hadn’t fallen at all. She had been
standing up, not far from me, Blood had coated the lower part of her face. It was an old memory and I hadn’t seen it
in decades. I flinched inside. ‘Oh…yes,’ I said.
We grew quiet.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry for doing that to
you.’
To which we fell silent before we talked on something
else."
I went to bed and ruminated over the myth.
Mum had been behind it. She had
created a cover story in order to protect me from my own memory.
But ultimately, the truth cannot be quashed and I had
recalled Eve’s bloodied face after throwing the glass bottle. This proves how truth will always win.
I felt bad but privately grateful. Mum had not hung me
out to dry in front of everyone. She had not punished me and I don’t recall
being grounded.
My twin holds no resentment for what has
happened. But understandably, she had upheld the truth and I am grateful to her.”
I had believed nothing more was to be said about the
day Eve had her accident. But I was wrong. Twenty years later, I would discover
something about that day that didn’t make sense and would raise uncomfortable
questions.
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