Work Text:
I’m a fluke twin. The one that shouldn’t be. Born attached to my sibling, vein to vein. Their heart beat for both of us. In the twentieth century, I would've been long gone.
Surgeons farmed a tiny heart for me. After two, three exhausting procedures mom was allowed to hold us for the first time.
That should've been it. We should've grown up together, gotten a satisfying career and all.
There was an adult in a suit. They said we were American. Right in front of our classmates. The teacher made a phone call, was talking as we left with the adult.
When we reached airport, sib snapped and tried running away. The adult slapped them.
I didn't understand until we were introduced to a pair of strangers. "These are your new parents. Speak English to them. Be good girls."
Shortly after we arrived, we both fell ill. Now I know it was the vapour of e-cigarettes. Breathing hurt. Nose hurt, and bled because I scratched it. The adults hesitated to send us to hospital. When they finally did, sib was gasping and wheezing like an elder.
I'm a fluke. I'm a lie. Should've been dead twice.
When mom found me, I couldn't look at her. Was unable to tell her. Struggled to speak Norwegian again.
She explained that, indeed, she used to live in Minnesota. She migrated with grandparents and met dad. Hoped she wouldn't be spotted under a new name.
But the American regime is that vicious.
My name was Hjørdis, my sibling's was Arnhild. Americans changed our names, but it doesn't matter anymore.
My current name is Uforut, because my survival was unforeseen (uforutsett) and my attacks aren't anticipated.
And since running away didn't work for us, mom and I will turn back and strike.