The Journal of Ana, Natalie and Nathaniel Thompson

She did not ask for the twins. They did not ask for her.
First, they wilt together and the demons prosper.
Second, they dispose of her.
Once palmed off to their aunt, they grow. They become stronger. Minds entwined, like fingers and hands.
And soon their screaming of god and death and the devil break their aunt.

She calls the priest.


3. PART 3 - ANA

From the moment I first held them, I could tell there was something wrong. Of course, I kept my secrets to myself because they had already threatened to take my twins away if I didn't stop sawing the skin from my wrists. 

I could not quite describe what it was, there was an icy vibe to their eyes. They gazed at each other lovingly, yet when their eyes turned on me, they were almost... puzzled. Confused. They did not recognize me. As if they crawled from between my thighs expecting their father, or at least another woman. I scoffed at myself and decided I was delusional. These sweet, caring little babes could do no harm. 

And yet, the first time I held my darling Natalie to my breast, she began to drink with contempt, and then smiled, laughing. Her toothless gums clashed together, squeezing my nipple. I let out a harsh cry of pain, then eased her away. She began to cry. 

Natalie was always the biggest, and somehow, the quickest to learn. She knew that biting me hurt, and seemed to relish in it. For their first year of birth, I kept telling myself... It would pass. I was still in shock about the rape. 

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