The Twin

Andrew and Alexander Evans were twins that always seemed to be the talk of the town. They both had good looks and were very smart, but they always depended more on each other than the world.

"I hate them.." Alex mutters.
Andrew turns to his slightly older brother, confused. "Why?"
He watched as his brother smirks and that something evil seemed to lurk in the air.

What will you do when your twin brother turns into a complete blood-thirsty psychopath?

*** This story is rated YELLOW for Graphic Violence that might be a bit much for some readers. Readers have been advised!


1. Prologue

A young woman lied in a hospital bed. Sweat dripped down her body and the pain was finally descending only to leave her tired and sore. She has been in labor for eleven hours and has given birth to two healthy baby boys.

"You did great, Madelyn." Her husband spoke softly and reassuringly as he places a kiss on her temple. She smiles at him feeling satisfaction in how hard she worked in bringing two new lives into the world. She knew she would cherish each of them greatly.

An older woman in scrubs appears at the door holding a child in each arm with a grin on her face. The two babies were nicely tucked in blue blankets. They were cozy and asleep in the mid-wife's arms before being handed off to their mother.

Tears immediately enter her eyes at the sight of her two beautiful boys. Dark hair was already sprouting at the tops of their heads. Each one, as if on cue, opened their hazel eyes to look up at the woman holding them. The man moves next to his wife's side as he gets a look of his children.

"Hi babies." The mother whispers happily. "They look so much like you, Randal." She states looking up at her husband.

The man smiles with pride like it was his intention to allow his creations to be like him. The woman giggles at his moment of pride before looking at her children again.

"What should we name them?" The man soon questions.

The woman smiles.

"Alexander Gregory Evans and Andrew Erick Evans."


"Alexander, honey, time to go!" The woman called up the stairs to the little boy.

The boys have grown and now have reached the age of ten. They were upstairs in their room placing with little toy cars on a rug with a pattern of a road going every which way. The younger twin frowns at his brother at the sound of their mother's call. "Do you really have to go?" He asks sadly, although he already knew the answer.

Alex looks up at Andrew and smiles reassuringly. "Of coarse! But don't worry. I promise I will always come back." He gives his brother a big hug. "I'm just going to the doctor anyway. What can happen?" He asks and his brother nods before watching the older twin run out the door.

The boy felt lonely in the room alone.

There was a crash. There was a sound of screeching rubber on the asphalt and then crashing of metal against metal and the shatter of glass. Everything was black. The boy forces his eyes open. He was still in the back seat, strapped safely in his car seat. His head hurt and he could feel something warm drip down the side of his face. He sees the car had crashed into the front of their grey van. The ones who hit them were in the wrong lane.

The windshield was blown out and glass scattered all inside the car. It was tremendous. He looks at his mother. Her head was tilt to the side so he could see her. Heavy amounts of blood streamed from her head from a large gash at her hairline. The glass had cut into her chest and arms leaving her in a bloody mess and ruined her beautiful, blue-flowered blouse.

She wasn't awake.

Was she even breathing?

Mom, wake up.. Mom, you need to wake up. We need to go home.

The boy wanted to reach out to his mother. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry out to her, but he felt paralyzed. His body was numb to the core as he watches his mom suffer alone and there was nothing he could do. He hears sirens closing in on them as the scene before him goes black once more.


"You are such a piece of shit, you hear me?" The man hollers as he beats the ten year old curled up on the ground. "She's dead and it's all your fault you selfish little brat!"

It has already been two months since the mother's death. They couldn't even save her. She died immediately at the crash. It was his fault. He wished he saved his mother, but he was so weak. Now, he was on the ground and being kicked, slapped, and punched in every way by who he believed was his father. Now, he just seemed more like a monster out for the young boy's head.

The man towering over him reeked of alcohol. It was enough to stink up the whole room. The whole house even. It was like he bathed in alcohol or washed his clothes in the controlling substance.

The boy wanted to cry. He wanted to tell the man to stop, but after doing so before, he knew that would only make him madder and beat him up longer. He just allows him to hurt him now. There was no way of stopping it. Alexander knew he was a killer. He killed his mom. It was his fault. There is no one else to blame but him.

After the man was done with his daily beating, he wobbled out of the room and the boy could hear him softly crying as he left. Alex opened his eyes slightly, or as much as he could, when he notices a figure at the door. His eyes adjust to see that his twin brother, Andrew, was standing there with an ice pack already in hand.

Alex smiles at his brother to show he was okay, but the worried look on Andrew's face proved he knew better. Andrew was never beaten because he wasn't there so how could he have killed her. That's why Alexander was the only one to blame. The younger twin quickly moves over to aid his brother and places the ice pack over his already swollen eye.

"You are always there for me, Andrew." Alex says weakly, breaking the silence. Andrew gives a nod as he checks for other injuries. "Why though? You know I killed her. So-"

"You didn't kill her!" Andrew snaps, cutting off his brother. "It wasn't your fault. Don't listen to him."

Alexander was surprised at his brother's outburst. He was more the quiet and shy one of the two. Yelling was something that he never usually did. A small smile comes to the boy's lips as he brought his brother in a hug and embraces him.

"Thank you for always being on my side..." He whispers.

"Always." Andrew replies as tears started escaping his eyes.

They stayed together the rest of the night and fell asleep in each other's arms when they went off to bed for the night.


White, powdery snow fell gracefully from the morning sky as the two boys sat on a blue bench in the park. The park was recently built in their neighborhood and it was their excuse to finally get away from their abusive father. They sat there side by side in big brown coats, black gloves and beanies, and a scarf wrapped around each of their necks. Andrew's was blue and Alexander's was red. Though Andrew wasn't in the mood to go out in the cold, he wouldn't dare leave his brother's side. He was scared something would happen to him if he wasn't around. He was scared to lose him.

"I hate them..." Alex mutters, breaking the silence.

Andrew follows his brother's eyes to a happy family playing in the snow. There was a couple and their two children. A boy about twelve and a little girl who seemed about six. They were working together to build themselves a snowman.

Andrew frowns before turning to his slightly older brother, confused. "Why?"

He watched as his brother smirks and that something evil seemed to lurk in the air. He gave him a chill. He then notices his eyes seemed darker than usual. Almost black.



The sound of gun fire rang through the house. The fourteen year old Andrew jumps out of bed and runs down the stairs waiting for the worse to appear. He stopped mid-way to see the horrific sight waiting for him in the living room.

His father lied dead on the floor with a bullet hole straight in the middle of his forehead. Blood leaked out of the wound and stained the wooden floors below him. His mouth was gapped open as if in shock and his eyes were rolled back in his skull.

Andrew cover his mouth and nose as he felt like he could hurl at the terrifying sight and the reeking smell of blood and death only made it worse. What scared him more was the one who shot him. He looked at the entrance to the kitchen to see Alexander standing their shaking like mad. In his trembling hands, was the pistol he used to shoot down their father.

"A-Alex..?" He stuttered. He couldn't believe what his own twin had just done.

Alex's head jolts to the staircase to see his brother crouched behind the railing, staring at him in fear. Alex's scared expression turns into a terrifying and satisfied grin. "I did it.. I did it, Andrew! I killed him!" He cheers then a creepy, high-pitched laugh follows. "I killed him... I killed him.." He repeats under his breath, but as many times he said it, it only made him enjoy his work even more.

He IS a killer...

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