Sarah MacMillan wasn't the sort of girl who did such things, but as she slowly waddled down the street - her nearly 400 lb body wobbling and jiggling as she did - she began to pray that this was all some terrible dream. She couldn't move very fast, and she knew that if she didn't get off the street as soon as possible...
The sound of oncoming Police sirens made her realize she wasn't going to do it. She just couldn't move fast enough to get away. She attempted to duck into more bushes in an attempt to at least hide from them, but as she did...a voice called out "Stop right where you are, Miss. I don't want to hurt you...only ask you some questions..."
**********
Sarah sat in the holding cell at the Police station, feeling more miserable than she ever had in her life. She now realized how foolish she'd been to even try to run for it. After all, what could she have done? A penniless fat girl with no home, friends or family wasn't going to get far. She'd been taken into custody sobbing, crying as her mother identified her tear-streaked face through the window as "The girl I found in my daughters room.", then spent several hours in a holding cell where she'd been 'uncooperative' by refusing to give her 'real' name and home address (insisting that she was the missing girl), but she at least had been fed something. Granted, a couple of muffins and a small milk didn't do much to dent her hunger pangs, but at least it had been something.
Then...the questioning. The daughter of a wealthy family had vanished, and she was the only clue. They dismissed her claims that she was Sarah MacMillan, telling her that she looked nothing at all like Sarah MacMillan and that the MacMillan family couldn't identify her. Depressed and hungry, all she could do was cry and insist that she was Sarah.
Finally, she was sent back to her cell and served another meager meal. It was more than enough for the slim, athletic cheerleader she'd been, but her body insisted that it was no where near what she'd usually be eating, and her nearly empty stomach tortured her through the night. Far removed from the snotty cheerleader she'd been the day before, Sarah cried herself to sleep that night.
***********
"Well...this is a bit of a pickle..."
Officer Clark Danvers and Detective Lisa Holme exchanged identical looks of worried perplexity. It wasn't so much that it was BAD news...but it was news that didn't make any sense.
Still...there it was right in front of them. The Jane Doe's finger prints...exactly matched the prints of Sarah MacMillan's juvenile arrest of last year. In fact, once you knew what to look for...everything matched.
They had different bodies, but identical scars on their left ankle. They had different hair colors and consistency, yet had identical scars on the back of their heads just into the hairline. They had different eye-colors, but the retina pattern was the same. They had different voices and inflections, yet their dental configuration was the same. Different apparent ethnicity, yet identical rare blood types.
How was it possible?
They kicked around several ideas, none of which made any sense once examined. Twins separated at birth was their favorite, but still didn't hold any water. Finally, they called the MacMillan's and asked them to come down to the station and look at something for them...then talk with the Jane Doe again, in the company of a detective.
*****************
As they drove their daughter home, the two well dressed people occasionally glanced back at the girl in the back seat. The girl...who was apparently their daughter. She knew all the right things, had the right scars and prints, and when they'd actually asked "Sarah? Is...that really you?", she'd broken down and wept like a child, begging them to believe her. She said over and over again that she didn't know what had happened or how she'd changed in a single night (though all the empty food containers and packages back home suggested she'd gained the weight honestly...though at an impossible rate), and that she'd simply awoke like this.
They watched her. This plain, homely fat girl...this obese sloven still in the slapped-together dress because nothing else would fit...crammed a burger in her mouth and gulped from the chocolate shake in her other hand. She'd begged them to stop someplace and buy her something to eat, saying that she was starving to death. Finally believing her, they pulled into a fast food drive-in and she'd ordered several burgers, fries, pie and beverages. Now finishing the last bag, the girl who was aparently her daughter sighed and rubbed her bloated belly with satisfaction.
"You shouldn't eat like that, honey." said the independantly wealthy Nathanial McMillain, as casually as he could. This girl had told them both family secrets and cherished personal moments that their daughter never would have shared...but still, nothing about her really seemed like Sarah.
The girl burped and giggled, blinking back tears and sighing "I know...but I wanna. I'm way hungry, an' I gotta eat. It's...creepy, but it feels so normal...so natural to eat like that. I know it's wrong...but it feels right in here..."
She pointed at her forehead.
"...and here."
She patted her belly.
Once they got her home, they tried to help her wash, but only the outside showers by the swimming pool were big enough to allow her full access. Wincing in disgust, Kyla McMillain tried to help her daughter wash the places she was...well, too fat to reach. In doing so, she again encountered all the little scars, moles and marks that her daughter had aquired durring her life. Though she wanted it to all be a dream...it was obvious that this repulsive girl was her daughter.
Finally clean, Sarah waddled back into the house, and her parents sat her down on the sofa (which her huge body seemed to fill) and tried to talked to her about doctors, specialists and a varity of tests that might just explain how this had happened. Sarah wanted to focus on what they were saying, but...she just couldn't. Though generally a girl of tremendous willpower, she now seemed to be passive and somehow shy. She fussed with her ugly dress (which had been washed as well), and finally mumbled "Whatever you say, daddy. I'll do whatever you say..."
"Stop doing that!" her father snapped, standing quickly and pointing his index finger at her. "When did you become such a mouse? Whatever happened to my firebrand of a daughter?"
They both watched in stunned silence, as Sarah McMillain - a confidant and aggressive young lady - started to cry again, blubbering and begging them to "...stop yellin' at me, huh? I'll do whatever you want, but don't pick on me anymore."
Nathan looked defeated, and finally the two of them simply helped Sarah up the stairs ("I've gotta move my stuff down to the ground floor! This upstairs stuff is way too much work...") and to her room. Once undressed and in her bed - her cumbersome body filling as she had the sofa - she hugged them both and said "I'm sorry, mom an' dad. I jus' feel so...strange like this."
