Awkward and frightened about impersonating your sister.

Slowly you cam back into consciousness, your eyes fluttering open, taking in the surroundings. White walls, white ceiling. The hospital— You suddenly remembered where you were, the doctor's word ringing in your ears. Your sister dead. You were your sister Tabitha, but could it really be be true? Tears welled up in your eyes and a small sob escaped your lips.

"Tim?" came your mother's voice, "Oh Tim!" There was a sadness in her voice, but also a relief. You were enveloped in a hug.

You tried to hug your mom the best you could, but you could only move one arm,

"Oh Tim, I'm so glad you're okay," your mom said as she pulled away from you."Just wait one second, your father will want to know you're awake."

Jennifer Connors stepped away from your bed and slipped out the door, but she wasn't gone more than a couple seconds when both of your parents came rushing back in, your father hugging you much like your mother did, though maybe not quite as tight.

"Is—is it true? Is Tabitha really—gone?" you ask the first free moment you get, your voice sounding familiar and foreign at the same time.

Your mother let out something between a sob and a cry of anguish. Your father's face got grim and he looked away but nodded.

"And I'm—"

"Yes," Paul Conners said.

You felt violated, though also guilty as if you had violated someone. A little bile rose in your throat, but it was swallowed down quickly. You were pulled into another hug by your mother.

Just then, there was a knock on the door and two men in doctor's attire stepped into the room.

"Ah, Timothy, I'm glad to see you're awake," said one you vaguely recognize, the other one nodded in agreement. "Do you remember the conversation we had when you were last awake?"

"Yes," you reply coldly.

"Ah, good, well, I know you've only been up a short time, but we really need to discuss the...technicalities of past events. We've all talked, your parents and the three of us, and we've agreed that it would be best for you to continue as if you died and assume the role of Tabitha and—"

"Wait, what?" you interrupt. Both of your parents put there hands on your shoulders and gave you reassuring looks.

"Well, we don't think you can continue your life as you, because you aren't...you. We're keeping this whole thing under wraps. You live on as Tabitha and the rest of the world becomes none the wiser."

"Because what you did was illegal."

"Tim, honey."

"Not illegal so much," the man says. "We did have permission from your mother, but it's highly controversial. So, in order to save you and your family from the media your parents have both signed these non-disclosure agreements, and if you could—"

"No," you say flatly. "I'm not agreeing to anything to save your butts. People ought to know what—what monsters you are."

"Tim," your father says.

"Its really for the best," your mother says, teary-eyed. "You get to live. We—we don't lose t—two children."

"Think about it Tim, if word got out, can you imagine what would happen? The media would hound you, us, for the rest of our lives. People would see you differently no matter where you went," Paul explained. "The hospital is waiving all current a future fees and will provide a large amount of cash."

You can hardly believe what your parents are saying, but it makes some sense. "Wha—what about David?" Your eyes go wide. "Is David okay? What about Allison? Randall?"

"Ssh Tim, its okay, they're all okay," your mother reassured you. "David is with your aunt. Allison and Randall have already been released. Their injuries were very minor."

"Released? How long have I been here?"

Jennifer looks up at her husband.

"Four weeks," Paul said.

"Four weeks?! So then my funeral?"

Your mother shook her head. "We had your body cremated. We—we still haven't—"

You nod and put your hand on your mother's.

"David doesn't know about what happened, neither does Allison or Randall. We figured we would let you decide who knows."

"I want to tell all three, I think. Odd as it seems, I don't know if I want David to know..." you state, trailing off.

There was a shuffle from the other end of the room, Dr. Saunders, the unfamiliar man, had produced a small stack of papers and set it on your bed. "Your, uh, parents will walk you through it when you're ready," he says and the two of them leave.