Free Paper Dolls by Hanna Peach

it?
    Or perhaps it was. A piece of myself I had ignored. Hidden. Underneath my carefully constructed façade. Clay was just the catalyst. He was doing things to me, revealing parts of me I never knew I had, igniting desires in me I never thought I’d want.
    Oh Clay, you’ll be the death of me one day.
     
    * * *
     
    I woke up the next morning like always, newborn and fresh, staring at blankness, before an image of two dark and intense eyes, and a certain pair of soft, inviting lips cast across the backs of my eyelids. I stretched and shifted under my sheets and my mouth carried the lightness of a soft smile.
    My mind turned to our kiss yesterday. The way the temperature had heated, the way the kiss turned aggressive, almost violent, as he crushed me against the door and held my mouth to his with his fingers twisted in my hair. My body heated, the fissures appearing like molten cracks under my skin, making my lungs open, seeking more air.
    I shivered at the promise of more…intimate things with Clay. Of his fingers seeking places never before explored, of his lips painting kisses on my skin new as blank canvas, of letting him into my body.
    A realisation lashed through me, causing me to bolt upright, clutching the sheets to my chest.
    Salem.
    I didn’t think of Salem first. I thought of Clay.
    What did this mean?
    You’re forgetting her. A tiny thread of guilt wormed its way through me.
    Never. I would never forget her. I would never stop missing her.
    You’re replacing her.
    I couldn’t. I could never replace her…
    A knock sounded on my front door, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glanced over at the clock on my bedside table. It wasn’t even 8:30 a.m. Who would be knocking?
    Clay.
    It could only be Clay. Perhaps he forgot that I was starting later today. I threw on a terrycloth dressing gown over my shorts and thin camisole and tied it up as I padded barefoot to my front door, my heart skipping with joy at the thought of seeing him so early. I only wish I was wearing something more…sexy. Perhaps I should take advantage of the staff discount at Flick’s boutique.
    I unlocked the door and swung it open, a smile on my face as I squinted against the sun. My eyes adjusted and the world outside came into focus as did the person standing at my door.
    My breath lodged into my throat and I made a wheezing noise. My heart, thudding inside my ears, drowned out the sounds of calling birds and a distant lawn mower. I stumbled back, blinking, trying to clear my vision. I must be seeing things. Hallucinating.
    It wasn’t Clay standing there, on my threshold.
    It was Salem.

4
     
    My mirror image, my twin, the very woman I had been searching for the last three long and lonely years, stood right there in front of me. Feelings so convoluted and overwhelming slammed into my body like a wave and I was left barely standing and choking like I was underwater.
    “Heya, sis. What’s crackin’?” Her voice, sounding so much like mine but rougher and with a hard edge, forged by the one experience we didn’t share when we were together.
    “S-Salem,” I managed.
    Why? Where? How…? Everything I had wished to say to her over the last three years crammed up into my throat, turning itself into a barricade. All I could do was gasp.
    She raised an eyebrow. “So, you gonna invite me in or what?”
    Right. Invite her in. That would be a good first step. I nodded and stepped aside, barely feeling the cool tiles underneath my feet. She moved past me, a black scuffed duffel bag over her shoulder. Some sort of sweet perfume hit my nose like a thick incense, dragonsblood and musk, but underneath I recognised the sour sharpness of whiskey. I don’t remember her ever smelling like that.
    I shut the door and turned the key in the lock, the cheap keychain, half a silver heart on the end swaying as I stared at it. And stared at it. They had come in pairs. I had bought them hoping that one day I’d be able to give Salem the other half of my