The Unborn

“Sophie.” The boy I once knew as my twin brother called my name from the gurney where he had been laying, dead, just a moment before.

My heart raced in fear, “J-Jacob?” I whispered back, hoping against hope that I had imagined it.

“Why are you so afraid of me Sophie, don’t you love me anymore?” As he spoke, Jacob slowly started to sit up on the hard metal surface and the sheet slid down, revealing his face to me.

Or what had been his face, once. Now it was gray and where his mouth had been was now a lipless circle with many rows of sharp, white teeth.

I gasped and staggered back until my body hit the cold door of the morgue. He turned his face till he was looking at me, his eyes now a bright blue instead of their normal brown.

“Your not my brother!” I screamed with all the might a tiny nine-year-old girl could summon.

The thing on the table just smiled at me, “Yes.”

My eyes flew open and I sat up in my bed, shaking from fear. This was the sixth night in a row that I’d had this dream, well more of a memory.

My twin brother, Jacob, had died mysteriously when we were nine and I had begged my parents to let me see his body so I could say goodbye. When I had gone into the room, alone… His body had come alive with something and I had been forced to cut it’s head off with one of the many autopsy saws that had been lying around.

My parents had walked in on me cutting his head off and from that day on I had been kept in this hellhole, aka Larkhill Sanitarium. Six days ago, on my eighteenth birthday things had started happening and I knew that He was coming back for me.

“Oh my god I feel like I’m a little south of my sanity.” I whispered, though because no one believed me, I knew my actual sanity was greatly in question.