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Send to FriendShannon remained motionless, and the two women lay in bed, dressed in a nightgown that was customized to fit two people physically attached to one another, back as the morning sun broke through the window across the room. Tricia stared in disbelief at the lifeless husk laying next to her, attached to her.
"Shannon...are you okay? Are you sick?"
Of course Shannon wasn't sick, and Tricia knew it. If Shannon was sick, then Tricia would be sick as well, and vice versa. That was the way it always worked between the two sisters.
Shannon and Tricia Matthews were conjoined twins. More specifically, they were what is known as Thorappagus conjoined twins, connected at the upper trunk, through the chest wall and sharing the same heart, which happened to be in Tricia's body. They had spent their entire lives together, every second within one another's presence, from when they slept, ate, went to the bathroom, and masturbated. At twenty-four years old, they were completely used to each other's company. It was natural to them to always have the other around every second of everyday. Neither could imagine what it must be like to be completely alone, without at least one other person nearby. And while such an existence might not seem appealing to normal people who treasured their privacy, Tricia and Shannon never gave it a second thought. Being connected to one another was what they were used to throughout their entire life; it was all they knew. And they preferred each other's company always to that of anyone else, though they did have a few friends here and there, those that were open-minded and not judgemental of their appearance or condition. And at least with each other, the twins never had to worry about lonliness; not when they always had each other.
At least until now, anyway.
Tricia put her left arm around Shannon's shoulder, trying to shake life back into her sister. "Come on, Shannon, say something, please!" Her heart was racing. She prayed that life would return to Shannon, that perhaps God might have mercy on the two sisters and they would be allowed to live on together. But nothing happened.
Reality hit Tricia now, and she realized, to her horror, that Shannon was indeed dead. Her worst fears had finally come true. Tricia had dreaded this day. A part of her refused to believe that it could ever happen, that Shannon could finally die as she had at some point last night. But another part had foreseen such an event. In her worst nightmares, Shannon was a rotting, fetid corpse attached to Tricia, covered in flies and maggots, her flesh hardening, turning gray, emitting a nauseating odor as her flesh continued to decay, like spoiled meat, a blackening appendage afflicted with gangrene.
And now Tricia's worst fears had come true. Shannon was indeed dead, though not yet decomposing, nor did she begin to stink as far as Tricia could tell. That meant that it couldn't have been for very long. Still, a half of Tricia was dead now, and would begin to rot and poison the living parts, killing them off as well.
They had been together all their lives, Shannon and Tricia. As much as Tricia had dreaded this day, she still couldn't believe that Shannon was dead. She wanted to believe that it was only a bad dream. The heart was on Tricia's body, but they both shared it. Shannon was in many respects a parasite to Tricia, but neither twin saw it like that. Shannon was Tricia's sister, her companion, and her very best friend. The two women had always been there for each other, all of their lives. Always there to keep each other company. Their parents would never allow the doctors to perform an operation to separate the two Siamese twins as children. And as they grew older, Tricia would never hear of being separated from her sister either. If the two were separated, Tricia would live and perhaps be healthier, but Shannon would die. Shannon couldn't survive on her own, without Tricia. And so the two girls remained conjoined.
Looking back on it now, Tricia wondered if she might have been better off having been separated from her sister. Shannon had died anyway, hadn't she? Did it really matter? Tricia could never live with herself knowing that her decision had killed her sister, her own flesh and blood. In retrospect, even knowing how it turned out now, if Tricia could do it all over again, she would still remained attached to her sister.
Tricia peered down in horror at Shannon's corpse, at her pale complexion, the blank, glassy stare from her green eyes, and her long auburn hair draping from her still head. Looking upon the corpse of her sister, it was as though Tricia was looking in the mirror, as though she were the corpse peering upon her own reflection, distorted by the tears in her eyes. She was saddened by her sister's death, but terrified as well. Half her body was now dead, and the rest would inevitably follow, and there was nothing she could do about it. Tricia shuddered at the thought of death, and of the thought of a dead thing attached to her, soon to harden and decay. Her worst nightmare come true.
Tricia slowly emerged from the bed and stood upon the wooden floor, staring at the hot pink wall paper in her bedroom, gazing at the door to the kitchen. I have to do something, she thought wildy. I'm sorry, Shannon, but I really don't want to die! She could feel Shannon weighing down upon her, her body still warm, only beginning to cool. When alive, Shannon would be able to stand upon her own, but with her dead, all the weight was now pulling down upon Tricia, hunching her over askewed to the side, as she slowly stumbled out of her bedroom and into the kitchen.
She continued to slowly stagger drunkenly as the weight of her sister's corpse bore down upon her, applying a great deal of pressure against her spine and making it feel as though her spine might snap in two. She carried Shannon with her arm around Tricia's shoulder, and and Tricia's arm around Shannon's shoulder while her other arm was wrapped around Shannon's waiste. Tricia walked barefoot upon the cold linoleum kitchen floor, to the phone. She gasped, breathing hard, winded and fatigued from all that had happened and from carrying Shannon. Her knees buckled as she lifted the phone from its cradle and dialed 911, and then finally collapsed, Shannon's weight pinning her to the ground.
"Hello, 911 operator," said a woman's voice on the other end.
"I need a medic sent to 885 Post Road, Apartment 303 on the third floor," Tricia cried into the microphone, near tears now, breathing heavily as Shannon hung lifeless from where they were connected, stretching the flesh painfully.
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down."
"Please...hurry..."
"Okay, what happened?"
"My Siamese twin died and is still connected to me and pretty soon I'm gonna die too!"
"Okay, I'll send an ambulance over soon. Just hold on--"
Tricia dropped the phone and let it dangle on the cord just above the kitchen floor. She began to sweat now, as her eyes wandered upward and she spotted the hilt of the butcher knife at the knife rack on the counter just a couple feet away. She lay on her back, peering up at that knife rack, as Shannon lay on top of her, pressing her weight down upon her, a heavy physical burden crushing her.
All of a sudden, Tricia had to be separated from Shannon. Throughout their lives, Shannon and Tricia enjoyed each other's company and couldn't imagine being separated for even a second (if that were even possible). But now Shannon was dead. Even worse, Shannon was killing Tricia. Tricia had to be free of this dead weight or she would soon be dead too. She couldn't wait until the medic arrived. There was no telling how long they would take. Tricia had to act now.
The 911 operator shouted on the phone, but the receiver was no longer at Tricia's ear, so she couldn't understand a word the operator was saying. She heard only static and muffled gibberish.
She took a final glance at Shannon.
Shannon glanced back toward her, staring at her with that blank, dead expression.
Tricia slowly emerged to her feet, straining with tremendous effort. It seemed as though Shannon were trying to pull her down. Tricia pressed her hands upon the surface of the counter, leaning on it for support as sweat stung her eyes. Shannon's body clung to her chest, dangling upon piece of flesh that kept the two sisters connected, stretching that piece of flesh painfully to its limit of elasticity. Tricia's fingers closed around the handle of the butcher knife, and she pulled it out slowly, just as her knees gave way once again, causing her to collapse and land on her buttocks upon the kitchen floor, with Shannon landing on top of her.
"Oh God, Shannon, I'm so sorry," Tricia sobbed ruefully.
With her right squeezing tightly at the handle, trembling, she brought the knife's edge down upon the slab of flesh connecting her to her sister, cutting painfully into the fabric of her nightgown and the living tissue of her own body, drawing blood. Tricia winced, squeezing her eyes shut. The pain was nearly intolerable, yet she cut deeper, albeit very slowly. She couldn't stand to be attached to that death thing that had once been her sister a second longer. And so she cut deeper, feeling her own blood layer over her side, her hip, and her breast, soaking into her night gown. She wanted to cut faster, harder, but couldn't. The pain hindered her from moving any faster, so she carved slowly, sluggishly, almost as though she were savoring the pain. She wanted to cut faster, but simply couldn't. Trica's lips parted and she cried out in agony. Her arm now convulsed, and she feared the knife would slip from her trembling, blood-soaked fingers, but managed to uphold a loose grip to the hilt of the knife as the knife burrowed deeper, biting layer upon layer of flesh.
When Tricia was done, the blood-drenched knife finally did slip from her fingers, as Shannon fell back, laying on her side, crumpled upon the kitchen floor. With her last ounce of strength, Tricia kicked the corpse of her sister away before reeling backward, hitting her head against the hard floor.
As she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, the world began to spin out of control before her field of vision. Tricia had severed her dead sister from her body, something she hoped she would never have to do, and had time to grieve briefly the lose of her twin. But she was losing a great deal of blood, bleeding profusely from the wound over her chest. For a few seconds, Tricia was able to hear the warbling sirens of the ambulances from a few blocks away, hurrying to her apartment. The world faded before her eyes and finally, she passed out.
* * *
Tricia had awakened in a hospital bed a few hours later. Her would on her chest had been stitched up and bandaged, and she was expected to make a full recovery. She was still very weak, now, however, very groggy and disoriented. Tricia felt ill, sick to her stomach, but still happy to be alive. Still depressed, however, over the death Shannon. Shannon had been her companion, and it was difficult now to imagine going through the rest of her life without her. Tricia had no idea previously what it was like to be alone, and she feared it, just as she had once feared the day Shannon might die and decompose, poisoning Tricia's body and killing her as well.
Tricia could only wonder what might have caused Shannon's death. They were both still very young, only twenty-four years old. Shannon had seemed very healthy, as had Tricia, despite the two woman having shared one heart for their entire life. Tricia would be notified of the cause of Shannon's death as soon as the autopsy had been performed. It was feasible that perhaps being kept alive by someone else's heart in someone else's body for all these years might have taken its toll on Shannon, and Tricia's heart, in the end, could now only support one person, while allowing the other to die. It was plausible, but Tricia, at this moment, had no way of knowing for sure. For now, she tried not to worry too much about it.
All that was on her mind now was how much she missed Shannon, and how guilty she felt for having severed her sister, despite Shannon already being dead. It was an act committed in raw panic, for the sake of self-preservation, yet still it seemed wrong. Shannon and Tricia had been born together, lived their entire lives up until this point together. It seemed only fitting that they would die together as well. So how was it that Shannon had mysteriously died, yet Tricia was now cursed to live on as the one left behind? She would have to get used to being alone now, though the concept of solitude had always been alien to her.
Tricia was reminded of Chang and Ang, the famous pair of Siamese twins from the nineteenth century. She thought of that fateful morning of Chang's death, and how Ang had been left behind for just a little while. This experience had left Tricia with a deeper understanding of the thoughts emotions running through Ang's mind during his final moments of life, when he realized his brother had somehow died and he would join him next. It must've been the same terror Tricia had been afflicted with when the same thing had happened to her now.
The wound on her chest from when she separated herself from Shannon didn't hurt much, but at times, it itched greatly. A burning itch searing her flesh, washing over her bosom.
At times, she could still feel Shannon's presence, sense her sister looking down upon her not from heaven but from this very hospital room. It was like being an amputee, someone who had lost an arm or a leg, but could still feel that phantom itch of their severed limb. Tricia half-expected when she veered her head to the side to see Shannon lying next to her. At times, in her delerious state of mind, Tricia could swear that her sister was still attached to her.
The End.
August 27, 2002
September 14, 2002