Twin Protection Protocol 1/15 (Patreon)

The safehouse smelled like fresh paint and new carpet. Too clean. Too quiet. The kind of place that pretended everything was normal while the world outside wanted us dead.

Agent Ryan Cole stood in the living room with his arms crossed, that calm, square-jawed expression never wavering as he laid out the plan like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

“Four weeks,” he said. “Maybe less if we get lucky. David has to become Emma’s identical twin sister. Ella. Same age, same look, same everything. The men we’re hiding from know what a father and husband looks like. They won’t be looking for two teenage girls.”

I laughed at first. A short, disbelieving sound. Sarah’s hand found mine and squeezed. Emma’s eyes were wide, but there was something else in them too. Excitement? Curiosity?

“You’re serious,” I said.

Ryan nodded once. “Deadly. We start now. It's for your family's safety”

The transformation was clinical at first, then strangely intimate.

Sarah and Emma took over the bathroom like it was a spa day. The razor glided over every inch of me—chest, arms, legs, underarms, and finally between my legs until I was smooth and hairless in a way I hadn’t been since I was a kid. The cool air on freshly shaved skin made me shiver. Emma kept giggling and calling it “sister bonding.” Sarah’s hands were gentle but efficient, like she was trying not to think too hard about what we were doing.

Then came the wig. Emma’s long, chestnut-brown hair with its soft waves. The wig matched perfectly, heavy and silky against my neck and shoulders. Every time I turned my head it swayed like it belonged there.

Makeup took the longest. Emma sat me on the closed toilet lid while Sarah worked with foundation, contour, highlighter, eyeliner, mascara, and a soft pink lip. They talked me through every step like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Look up. Good girl. Now blink slowly.”

When they finally let me stand and turn toward the full-length mirror in the bedroom, I stopped breathing for a second. The girl looking back at me wasn’t David.

She was cute. Really cute. Long hair falling in those same soft waves, makeup making her eyes look bigger and her cheekbones higher. The fitted pink short-sleeve top hugged the padded bra they’d insisted on, giving her a soft, feminine shape. The light blue denim mini skirt sat high on her waist and barely covered the tops of her thighs. White crew socks and simple sneakers completed the look. She looked like any normal, fit eighteen-year-old girl getting ready for a casual day—maybe heading to the mall with her sister or meeting friends.

Except she was me. Emma squealed and threw her arms around my waist from the side, pressing her cheek against mine so our reflections lined up perfectly.

“Oh my God, we actually look like twins! Dad—Ella, this is insane. You look so pretty!”

I swallowed. My voice came out higher than I intended, the way they’d been coaching me all afternoon. “This is… a lot.”

Sarah stood behind us, adjusting the hem of the skirt with careful fingers. “It’s only four weeks, honey. We can do four weeks. For Emma. For all of us.”

Agent Ryan’s voice came from the doorway, low and steady. “Posture, Ella. Shoulders back. Slight tilt in the hips. Girls don’t stand like they’re about to tackle someone.”

I tried. The denim skirt brushed against freshly shaved thighs with every tiny movement. The top felt tight across the chest in a way that made me constantly aware of the padding. I placed my hands on my hips like he demonstrated, trying to look natural. In the mirror, the girl copied me perfectly. Confident. Cute. Like she belonged in this bedroom, in this life.

Ryan gave a small nod of approval. “Better. We’ll work on the walk after dinner.”

Dinner was the strangest part.

We sat around the table like a normal family—Sarah, Ryan, Emma, and me as Ella. Ryan had already introduced himself to the neighbours as “the girls’ dad” with that easy, believable smile. I practised my new voice, kept my answers short, and tried not to flinch every time someone called me Ella or “sweetheart.”

Emma kept bumping her shoulder against mine, grinning like we were sharing the world’s biggest secret. Sarah kept shooting me little reassuring looks across the table, though I could see the tension in her shoulders. And Ryan… he was already playing the role too well. The protective hand on the small of Sarah’s back when he reached for the salt. The way he listened when she spoke. The calm authority in his voice when he reminded “the girls” about curfew and staying inside unless supervised.

I told myself it was just acting. Four weeks. Temporary.

But when I caught my reflection in the dark window beside the table—long hair, pink top, smooth legs crossed under the short denim skirt—I felt something twist in my stomach.

This wasn’t a costume I could take off at the end of the night.

Later, after everyone had gone to their rooms, and Ryan living in the outhouse. I stood alone in front of the bedroom mirror again. The safehouse was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning. I turned slightly, watching how the skirt moved with me, how the top clung in all the places it shouldn’t on a man’s body.

Emma’s voice drifted from the doorway, soft and sleepy. “You okay, Ella?”

I forced a smile for her. “Yeah, Em. Just… getting used to it.” She padded over and hugged me from behind, resting her chin on my shoulder so we looked like twins again in the glass.

“We’re gonna be the best twin sisters ever,” she whispered. “I promise I’ll help with everything. Makeup, clothes, school… whatever you need.”

I hugged her back, careful not to squeeze too hard. “Thanks, kiddo.” When she left, I stayed in front of the mirror a little longer.

Four weeks. I could do four weeks. I had to.

Because somewhere out there, dangerous men were looking for David Thompson. And as long as Ella existed, David was invisible.

I smoothed the pink top over my padded chest, adjusted the hem of the denim skirt one last time, and practised the higher, softer voice one more time in the quiet room.

“Hi… I’m Ella.” The girl in the mirror said it perfectly. And for the first time, I almost believed her.