The mountains danced and lumbered overhead. Down, up, down, up, down, their massive height capped only by the forests of the clouds. My brother stood next to me and gave me smile and nod. Together our eyes searched their peaks until I came upon her soft image, so pale and small. The nape of her neck was tattooed with roman numerals: the date of her wedding, her first child, and even the day I baptised her. They were just numbers and yet nothing ever spoke so beautifully of envy.

I lurch forward, my steps heavy like the rain that kissed the ground around us. Splash, splash, splash. The wind caught her wispy blond hair and played with the edge of her skirt like a perverted old man.
I tiptoed. One step. Pitter-patter. Two steps. Pitter-patter until I stood in her shadow, so dark, so cold and so comforting.
“You don’t have the strength to kill me,” she whispered.
I laugh, and say, “God is my judge, and he convicts you to death.”
I crushed her. I pushed her and she started falling.
Falling where? Falling how? I didn’t know.
My entire body resonated with laughter and filled with every happiness at the sound of her dancing body.
But she was falling, and I liked it. Pitter-Patter, Pitter-patter, splash, splash, splash.

I wake up. Its morning, or is it night? I’m lying incarcerated on a lumpy bed, with metal bars across the oval window. In the distance sirens scream their shallow whispers. Light filters through the red mist and lands delicately on my bible, my Gods work. There is nothing but me in this room-that is except for the lingering scent of blood. I can smell the blood, the rich-velvet music that flows through her veins. Ba boom ba boom ba boom.

I wake up. “You are sent from hell, … my father is sent from hell”, someone in the distance screams at me. Probably her.
Her abuse characterises most of my mornings. But how petty of her to think that she can change the beast inside me that yearns to discover the truth. 
“Its all in the name of science sweetheart.“
I climb out of my oval window and land with heavy feet on the grass. My toenails dig into the humble earth, and push against the fresh sprouts of grass. Green and blue … grass and sky, they flood my front yard and swim along my driveway until the colours shimmer on my car. I get in and drive to work. 

I enter my workplace, Genetisis, and I’m greeted with a portrait of my brother. He stares down at me from his position high up on the wall. I shake my head and dismiss the hunger and it overwhelms me and I clench the gold cross around my neck and then my hand bleeds as blood lumbers down my wrist with every pulse.
I stride to the bathroom and clean my hands. First I rinse them throughouly for 30 seconds, then use anti-bacterial soap, making sure to apply only 1.5 squirts. After rinsing and towel drying them, I apply an exfoliation cream, which will get rid of any excess dead skin cells, rinse and dry again. Then I slather on a layer of moisturising cream- to keep them soft.
I’m not excessive, you just don’t understand, my hands must be clean.
After leaving the bathroom, I stride through the hallways and then into a lift. It’s clinical and quiet, except for her soft breaths. Her.
While Debussy plays in the background, a red mist comes over me.
We are standing side by side in a box of mirrors. As we go higher and higher the elevator squeals with excitement. Ting, ting, ting!
I turn my head and look at her. My patient, she must be examined.
“Hi”
She turns and looks at me, confused.
“Uhm hi?”
“Im sorry”
And before she has time to answer I grab her fat face and give it a swift nick to the left.
Her body falls to the ground with a thud. Poor thing.
I crouch and lean over her body. The side of her face is forced against the floor by the weight of gravity. Two eyes glare at me; one blue, one green. I trace her face with my fingers, playing join the dots with her freckles.

Reality slaps me in the face.
I’m back to standing next to the pretty girl of two different eyes. The elevator stops with a thump at level 27, and we walk out. I follow her, watch how she walks. Small steps for her small frame. She drags her fingers through her hair and collects it into a bun, exposing her tattoos.
We reach a metal door, sealed by bars and bars of locks. She glances at me and nods towards the lock code. I punch in the numbers 174 and with exasperation; the metal door shifts upwards and allows us to enter.
Inside is a laboratory with white floors, white walls, and white lights.
“Marie can you lay on the bench for me.”
She does as I say.
“What’s it going to be today doc?”
I hesitate.
Throughout my life, I have come to notice that humans experience true fear three times in the average life. There is fear when you are born, kicking and screaming as you leave your mothers womb, abused by harsh lights and squeals of joy from voices so foreign. And of course, there is fear when you die, swept into a void of blackness no deity can control. But there is also fear when the evitable becomes fate.
Today Marie and I will experience all three shades of fear.
“Where’s my sister?” Marie asks.
“She’s at home”
Confused she looks around and notices that we aren’t do a simple examination today.
“What’s going on Dad?”
I pace and watch my daughters brain start to churn and tick, click, click, click.
“When your mother- God rest her soul, gave birth to you and Amy, it was like a blessing; but not in the way you think it was. “
Marie slides off the table and backs slowly to the far right wall. The large oval windows decorates it, and they were foggy with coldness.
“I have always been curious about twins, about how my brother and I came to be so explicitly close that we shared the same amniotic fluid. When he died I began having hallucinations of killing my own daughters. Obviously I am estranged from any human emotion.
Nether the less I have come to the conclusion that these hallucinations are not a burden but a message from God.”
Her hands touch the window, her imprint staining the glass. Marie’s bottom lip is quivering now, teeth chattering. Sharp, short, shallow breaths.
“Dad please”
I continue, ignoring her plea.
“The whole time I was poking and prodding at you, to try and see if there was a way to rewire the brain of a twin- to remove the deep connection. But I was wrong.

I realise now that God needs you up there for a higher purpose, and I am the angel of death that will deliver your birth into another world.”

I lunge forward and wrap my sweaty hands across her throat. I use the back of her head to smash the window and she cries out in pain. The smashed glass shimmers like tinsel in her hair, and the blood illuminates like lights on a Christmas tree. Half of Marie’s body is hanging out the window. She is dazed and in despair because she knows what is coming.

“You don’t have the strength to kill me,” she whispered.
“But darling I do, my hands are clean”.
I let go and she falls. Her body bounces off the railings of 2 balconies below, and then landed with a thud on the hard concrete ground, the sound of her crunching skull ringing three times in my mind.
It was my sweet tune of perverted happiness. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, splash, splash, splash.

I wake up, Dear God save me.