They Stole My Name and My Life

1: 1

At the entrance to the train station, the gate stopped me. My ID wouldn't pull up any ticket.

Mom glanced back at me.

Oh, you. When I was booking, I couldn't remember your name for a second, so I forgot to buy yours.

Just buy your own.

I forced a smile and nodded.

Ever since Gwyneth Sullivan was found six years ago, I, the swapped adopted daughter, had become the invisible one in this house, the one who wasn't even worthy of a name.

Because Gwyneth said my name had been hers to begin with.

Later, all it took was hearing my name and she'd have one of her episodes, screaming that she wanted to kill herself.

After that I could only be called "you, there."

I opened the ticket app. Every seat to Seaport City for the next three days was sold out.

By the time I looked up, my parents and Gwyneth had vanished into the crowd.

I sent a message to the family group chat.

"Mom, Dad, there are no train tickets left. How am I supposed to meet up with you?"

No one replied.

An hour later, Gwyneth posted a selfie in the chat.

Mom answered in a second: "Where did this movie star come from!"

Dad sent a bouquet of flowers.

Ivor James, my childhood sweetheart, transferred three thousand dollars, with the note: "Gwynnie's travel fund."

No one answered my message. No one cared whether I could make the trip or not.

I closed the ticket app and opened my email.

Two offers were sitting there. One from the local Lambert Group, the other from a research institute two thousand miles away.

I chose the second one without hesitation.

From now on, I was going to go find the name that belonged to me.

The house was shut up tight, the air thick and sticky.

I dragged my suitcase up to the attic and grabbed the bottle of water off the desk, gulping down a few mouthfuls.

The creaking fan pushed a little coolness my way.

The attic was under fifty square feet, freezing in winter and stifling in summer, the ceiling barely five feet high, so I had to walk bent over.

It was the only space in this house that was mine.

The day Gwyneth was brought home, she saw my room and broke down sobbing.

"At the orphanage I had to cram into a bunk bed, and someone else was living in the room that should've been mine."

Mom and Dad soothed her for a whole afternoon, then told me to give her back the room and make do in the attic for a few days.

They said once Gwyneth accepted me, I could move back and share the room with her.

I thought if I was obedient enough and waited patiently, I'd eventually fit back into this family.

What I got instead was losing even my name.

Early the next morning, I took my own documents and the household register I'd slipped out of my parents' room, and went to the registry office to transfer my residency to where the institute was.

If I was going to leave, I'd leave completely.

The papers would take a week to come through, which happened to be the day they'd get back from their trip.

I got up early on purpose to go to the farmers' market and pick out the freshest vegetables.

I wanted to say a proper goodbye at the dinner table.

Once I left, we probably wouldn't see each other again.

The front door clicked open just as I was carrying the last dish out of the kitchen.

Gwyneth took one look at the food on the table, clapped a hand over her mouth, and bolted into the bathroom. A second later came the sound of her retching.

Mom shook her head at me.

"Gwynnie's carsick, she can't eat anything this greasy. Go make her a pot of plain oatmeal now."

"Okay. You and Dad go ahead and eat first."

"We're not eating either. Gwynnie can't stand a smell this strong. If you want to eat, take it into the kitchen."

I looked at the blisters the heat had raised on my fingertips and said nothing.

Half an hour later, I carried the finished oatmeal into Gwyneth's room.

When I came out, Mom pulled out a shopping bag and handed it to me.

"A gift I brought you from Seaport City."

It was a snow globe with a little mermaid inside.

My eyes stung.

In six years, it was the first time Mom had remembered me.

Passing Gwyneth's room, I heard her on the phone with a friend.

"Did you see the photo I sent you? That snow globe was a freebie they hand out at the tourist spot for scanning a code and adding them as a contact. It almost made her cry."

"She's got some nerve. She knows perfectly well she's not their real daughter and she still won't leave"

I lowered my head and went back to the kitchen.

Every dish I'd set out on the counter had been dumped into the trash.

Dad, in the middle of pouring himself some water, shot me a glance.

"You, there. I thought you weren't going to eat it, so I tossed it."

I gave a low grunt of acknowledgment.

I never should have had any illusions about family without blood between us. I'd been the greedy one.

2: 2

The truth is, after Gwyneth came back, I once said I wanted to leave.

My mother cried for a whole afternoon trying to talk me out of it. "Whether or not you're our own flesh and blood, we raised you for sixteen years. You're my daughter."

My father stood outside the door and smoked through half a pack.

"I looked into it. Your birth parents passed away long ago. If you leave, you'd have nowhere to go."

"Gwynnie just can't accept you right now. Give it time, and I'm sure the two of you will become close as sisters."

So I stayed.

But every time our parents were good to me, Gwyneth would fall apart and threaten to kill herself.

At first Mom and Dad only pretended not to care about me. But the longer they performed it, the more it stopped being a performance.

I sat up in the attic.

Trying to drink enough water to bury the hunger in my stomach.

I looked at the reply from the research institute sitting in my inbox, and slowly my heart went quiet.

This family trip was supposed to celebrate Gwyneth and me graduating college. Our parents were worried Gwyneth was anxious about job hunting, so they'd taken her along to help her relax.

Not one of them asked how my own job search was going. None of them cared.

That afternoon Ivor came by the house with two gifts.

One was a Louis Vuitton monogram messenger bag, bought straight from the boutique, the receipt for twenty-three hundred dollars still tucked inside.

He handed it to Gwyneth himself.

"Starting a real job makes you a grown woman. You can't keep looking like a student. This is the bag you posted about wanting a while back. See if it suits you."

Gwyneth slung it over her shoulder and turned in front of the mirror again and again.

Then he carried the other gift and came up to the little attic with me.

"Go on, open it."

I wasn't expecting anything.

Everything he gave Gwyneth was the most expensive he could find. Mine was always the cheapest.

I tore off the wrapping.

A Coach bag from the clearance rack, one whole zero cheaper than Gwyneth's gift.

Still, it caught me off guard.

"You need a bag for work too."

The corner of my mouth had just begun to lift when he suddenly said,

"Didn't you say you got that offer from Lambert Group? Turn the job down and find yourself another one."

"Why?"

"I had a friend ask around. Gwynnie applied for the same position you did. If you drop out, she can take the spot."

His tone was careless, like he was talking about the weather.

"You took Gwynnie's parents from her for sixteen years. You owe her this."

So the bag was never a gift at all.

It was my payment for handing my job over to Gwyneth.

I looked at him and asked,

"How long has it been since you said my name?"

Ivor frowned, the way you'd look at a child throwing a pointless tantrum.

"Don't drag all that nonsense into this. The deadline's tomorrow. Turn the offer down today."

"When Gwyneth first came back, you comforted me. You said if Mom and Dad didn't want me anymore, you would. But it's been six years since you last said my name."

Everything I said was true.

Ivor's face only darkened.

"If Gwynnie hadn't been switched at birth, she's the one who would've grown up with me as childhood sweethearts. Don't act sweet after you've already gotten the better end of it."

"Remember to turn down the Lambert Group offer."

With that, he turned and walked out of the attic.

Not long after he left, Gwyneth's voice rang out, deliberately pitched loud.

"Ivor, look at you, drenched in sweat. Come sit in my room where it's cool. And stop going up to the attic. You'll give yourself heatstroke."

Ivor laughed under his breath.

"I remembered you like mango smoothies. I ordered ahead before I came. It's already waiting at the door."

Two seconds later came the sound of the door, then a straw pushing down into a drink.

Twice. Two cups. Not one for me.

My phone lit up with a notice that I'd been added to a group.

The team lead tagged me in the chat: "Kayla, you only need to bring your clothes. We've already got all the daily necessities ready for you."

"See you in three days. Welcome, Kayla."

The other members flooded the chat with welcome stickers.

My vision blurred, and the tears struck the screen of my phone.

In this house, my name was "that one, whatever her name is."

Two thousand miles away, they were saying: welcome, Kayla.

3: 3

The next day, Aunt Denise Dickerson came by to ask about college applications.

She sat on the couch cracking sunflower seeds while my cousin, Ryan Dickerson, slouched beside her with his eyes on his phone.

Gwyneth had a tablet out, scrolling through schools for him.

"With Ryan's scores he'll get into Seaport City U no problem. Their pre-med program is really strong. Ryan, you want to do medicine, right?"

Ryan didn't even look up. He gave a flat little grunt.

The smile froze on Gwyneth's face.

"Gwynnie's just so sharp. I knew coming to ask you was the right call."

Aunt Denise jumped in at once, then turned her head toward me where I sat on the stool.

"That oneyou"

She paused, trying to place my name, and couldn't.

"Never mind. How's the job search going?"

I was used to it by now.

"Aunt Denise, I"

"Her name's Kayla Sullivan."

Ryan put down his phone and lifted his head.

"I really don't get what's so unspeakable about a name. Gwyneth, are you seriously this dramatic?"

The moment the words left him, the living room went dead silent.

Gwyneth shot to her feet and bolted into the kitchen like something had snapped in her, came back with a knife, and held it to her own throat.

"You all want me dead, don't you? So she can take my identity, take my parents?"

Her voice was ragged from screaming.

"Why did you switch me at birth in the first place? Do you know how much I've suffered?"

"I spent my whole life thinking I was a child nobody wanted, and now you tell me someone else was out there living my life, while I paid the price for her?"

"Why should I be the one to carry your mistake?"

Mom went white with fear. Dad held his hands out, begging her to calm down.

Ivor James, who must have gotten a message, came rushing in.

"Gwynnie, you're the only daughter Uncle and Auntie have. And you've got me. Haven't I been right here beside you this whole time?"

He moved toward her, one step at a time.

"Good girl. Listen to me. Give me the knife."

The instant before Ivor could take the knife from her hand

Gwyneth suddenly lunged at me with it, and the tip dragged a line of blood down my arm.

"Gwynnie! Are you okay?"

"You scared me half to death."

"The only one your dad and I love is you!"

Mom, Dad, and Ivor all crowded in around Gwyneth.

Nobody saw the blood running down my arm.

"Kayla, you're bleeding! We need to get to a hospital!"

Ryan grabbed Aunt Denise and hurried me to the emergency room.

The whole way there, he kept apologizing.

"Kayla, I didn't think Gwyneth would actually lose it and hurt you. I'm sorry."

He was the only one in that house who still remembered my name.

I told him I didn't blame him.

Gwyneth had done it on purpose. She wasn't crazy at all. It was just a way to drive me out.

I didn't say any of that out loud.

Because even if I did, no one would believe me.

It wasn't until my wound was bandaged and I'd left the hospital that three texts came through on my phone.

The first was from Mom.

"Don't say anything when you get home. Gwynnie can't take any more upset."

The second was from Dad.

"Don't hold today against Gwynnie."

The last one was from Ivor.

"You enjoyed watching Gwynnie fall apart because of you, didn't you?"

Not one person asked about my injury.

I carried the plastic bag of medicine home.

I pushed open the attic door and found my suitcase flung open on the floor, everything inside torn through and scattered.

All of my ID documents were gone.

Ivor's voice was flat.

"Gwynnie won't have anything in this house that has your name on it."

"To calm her down, I threw it all out right in front of her."

4: 4

"Have you lost your mind?"

The shout tore out of me before I could stop it, aimed straight at Ivor.

"Where did you throw them?"

Without those documents I couldn't get to the research institute at all, and getting replacements issued would make me miss the reporting date.

Mom and Dad came to the top of the stairs and scolded me in low voices.

"Keep your voice down. Gwynnie's resting in her room. She doesn't want to hear you."

I was shaking all over, fighting to hold it together, but the tears came anyway.

"Ivor, where did you throw them?"

Ivor had never seen me like this, out of control, and a flicker of panic crossed his face.

"In the trash cans by the front gate. Don't cry. Worst case, I'll go with you tomorrow to get them reissued"

Before he finished, I'd shoved past him and run out the door.

Barefoot, I ran to the trash area by the complex gate, and the heat and the stench made me gag.

Twelve bins, all full, and I dug through them one by one.

Partway through, a security guard came over with a stick to chase me off.

"Where'd this beggar come from? You've made a mess of the bins. Who's supposed to clean this up?"

I begged them through my tears.

"My family threw out my documents. I have to find them."

The bandaged wound tore open, blood running down my elbow and dripping to the ground.

I don't know how long I searched, but I finally found my documents in one of the bags.

I took some tissues from my pocket and wiped them clean.

Filthy and barefoot, I walked back home.

The stones had cut my feet open, leaving bloody prints along the ground.

I reached out to enter the door code.

"Incorrect password," the lock announced, the alert echoing down the hallway.

Mom's voice came from behind the door.

"Your dad and I talked it over. Go stay somewhere else for a while, and once Gwynnie's doing better, you can come back."

An envelope slid out under the gap in the door.

She lowered her voice.

"A transfer might let Gwynnie see it, so take this cash and use it for now."

I drew a deep breath.

"My luggage"

Before I could finish, she opened the door and pushed out the suitcase I'd already packed.

Then she shut the door at once.

I didn't miss it, that instant before the door closed, the way she covered her nose and looked at me with disgust.

The hallway went quiet again.

This time, I didn't cry.

My tears had never been able to compete with Gwyneth's moods.

I left the envelope on the floor untouched.

I picked up the phone sitting on my suitcase and changed my flight from tomorrow night to tonight.

Went to a public bathhouse and washed up.

Then I dragged my suitcase to the airport.

Just before I turned the phone off, I saw a message pop up in the family group chat.

Gwyneth had posted a photo of herself with Mom, Dad, and Ivor, all seated at the dining table.

On the table sat an elegant birthday cake.

Written across it: "Happy Birthday to Princess Gwynnie."

Today was my birthday too.

It was only that ever since Gwyneth came back, I hadn't been allowed to celebrate my birthday with her.

In the chat, Mom, Dad, and Ivor had all sent her birthday cash gifts.

The next second, Ivor sent me a birthday gift in a private message.

Underneath it he added a line:

"Why don't you go change your name? The name was Gwynnie's to begin with, after all."

I didn't reply.

I tapped to leave the family group, then blocked every one of them.

Powered off.

Watching the notice that Kayla had left the group, Mom and Dad had no reaction at all.

Gwyneth's lips curved, and she ate with even more enjoyment.

Ivor sent Kayla a question mark, meaning to ask why on earth she'd suddenly left the group, only to see he'd been blocked.

He frowned, chalking it up to Kayla throwing a fit over what he'd said.

It wasn't until half a month later, when no one could reach Kayla at all, that everyone noticed something was wrong.

Mom, Dad, and Ivor rushed to the police station to file a report.

The officer on duty was the very one who had recovered Gwyneth all those years ago.

His face went white, and he pulled them into a blind spot away from the cameras.

"I knew this couldn't stay buried forever. I just didn't think you'd find out this soon"