Twisted

My parents were murdered. That was one of the facts that defined me, that helped shape me into the girl I was. My very life was lead differently due to this fact. I lived with foster parents. Some of me was always scared that the killer would jump out and attack me – he was never caught and thrown into jail, like he should have been.

I was the one to find their bodies, when I was only fourteen. I was just a child. The grief and horror changed me completely – but, like a child, the first thing I did when I saw them was scream. I cried and screamed and shook until my sister came running. She didn’t react as I did – her face grew pale and she went still, stiff and staring. Her reaction somehow snapped me out of my immature breakdown and I told her to go to the neighbours, call the police, the ambulance. She did, like a robot.

As I stared down at their bodies, my cheeks still tear stained and my throat sore, I promised them I’d never cry again. For my sister, who now needed someone older to look up to, for my dead parents, who wanted me to be strong – or, at least, I thought that was what they wanted. I promised I wouldn’t cry, not until the killer was caught and got what he deserved.

I stood there and stared, like Kalista had, my lip trembling, remaking the promise over and over until the police and the ambulance arrived. They wrapped a blanket around me; only then did I realise I was still shaking. And they moved me away, but by then my promise was strong as steel.

Ever since that day, it seemed like bad things kept happening to my sister and I, testing how strong my promise really was. But I kept it, even when my foster dad hit me for the first time, even when people at school targeted me with snide comments and glances that said more than anyone dared to voice; I never cried when they split my sister and I into two different foster families, Kalista living on the other side of the town, although she insisted on going to the same school as me. There were only two high schools anyway, one that connected with a primary school which was where we both attended.

We mostly kept in touch through phone, as we both had mobile phones. I had been given one on my fourteenth birthday, only shortly before my parents died. Kalista was given one from her foster mother on her thirteenth birthday.

I didn’t like the school we were sent to and neither did Kalista, but we didn’t complain much. We did the work, kept our grades up – well, I did until senior year. My very last year and I just couldn’t really deal well with it. I had thought the petty bullying would lay off after a year or so but it didn’t. Kalista’s mother was threatening to cut off any contact between us after I finished school, besides phone conversations. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that when Kalista turned eighteen, I’d be able to see her but that wasn’t for four years.

Kalista’s foster mother – Carly – thought I was a bad influence after the incident between me, Kalista and a guy my age called Derek. But what she saw and what actually happened were two very different things. What she saw was me encouraging Derek and my sister to “put on a show” for me. What actually happened was rape.

So my senior year didn’t turn out all that great. I decided to repeat it and I knew I wasn’t the only one repeating. I didn’t think there were many, though. And I decided I wouldn’t mess up my second attempt, even if the bullying continued, even if Carly kept threatening.

Another thing that wasn’t all that great was my appearance. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I was ugly – I just looked kind of strange. I had bright red hair that fell to the middle of my back. My strangest feature was my eyes – they were yellow. They attracted many stares, especially because they were bright, not dull, not dusty, but a fiery yellow – like cat eyes. Sometimes, people remarked that I’d look like a ghost because of my pale skin, but my bright hair and eyes made up for it.

My clothes didn’t help my case – I was provided with ordinary, bland clothes. Jeans, plain shirts, those kinds of things.

The town my sister and I lived in was small, situated next to a river and a forest. It was secluded and secretive but everyone knew everyone else. Secrets were hard to keep in such a small town.


It started on the first day of my second senior year.

The first day started off ordinary enough. I walked to school, wearing my usual jeans and t-shirt – the school didn’t enforce a school uniform, although there were always restrictions on what to wear. I didn’t have a car or license despite being almost eighteen. My foster parents thought me capable without a car and if I was honest, I was. I didn’t need a car, though I wouldn’t mind one – or at least a license.

I felt the loneliness settle in the second I arrived at school; I could hear laughter around me, chatting and catching up friends. I was the only one by myself, no friends around me, no one I knew well enough to even say hello to.

I met up with my sister at lunchtime but we didn’t stay together for long. She had friends waiting for her, expecting her to be with them on the first day of school. I was the one who’d found my parents’ dead bodies; I was the freak. Kalista had missed out on most of the bullying and I was glad for that.

As I was walking away, someone accidently – or maybe on purpose, I didn’t know – bumped into me and I fell over backwards, hitting my head hard against the concrete. A gasp tumbled out of my mouth and a pain suddenly erupted in my chest. Trembles shook my body uncontrollably, any attempts at standing back up being fumbled by them. My vision started to blur and then, the madness began.

I thought I was in the forest, trees around me but a conversation was being held there. I couldn’t see the two men talking but their voices were carried to me like leaves on the wind. “It’s already happening,” was the first whisper I heard. The man’s voice was a creaky whisper, holding secrets and untold messages of a man aged before his years. “I can feel it. We have to meet her soon. Tell her...some of the story.”

“Aren’t we supposed to meet her on her eighteenth birthday?” It was a different whisper this time, another man with a whisper that still held secrets but wasn’t so creaky. “Or at least, I am.”

A sigh fluttered by, almost unheard, swept away by the wind. “I guess that’s how it’s supposed to go,” the creaky whisper admitted, “but what if she sees? Anything could happen if she doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“I don’t think she will. I mean, seeing before their eighteenth birthday is really rare, right?” The whisper was uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure he was right, as if he was questioning a rule that had been drilled into his brain since he was young.

Pacing started up, footsteps rustling through the fallen leaves and twigs and low plants. Part of me wondered in a passing thought if I was going crazy. A man appeared in my vision and all I saw was black hair and green eyes before he spoke and I realised it was the second man who spoke. “I think she’s already seen.” And he looked straight at me; the second my eyes connected with his, a rushing started up in my eyes and I was thrust back into reality.

I sat up straight, gasping for breath. My eyes couldn’t stay still. People were crowded around me while terror coursed through my veins, fiery hot. I could see my sister’s face and many of my teachers but I didn’t even care. I had to get out.

I pushed up from the ground and ignored all the whispers of, “Freak!” I didn’t know what I’d looked like while I was in that...forest place and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know. Shoving my way out of the growing swarm of people, my mind numbed over in a state of white terror. I couldn’t tell what was scaring me so badly; all I could think was a repeating instruction. Get out, get out, get out, get out get out getoutgetoutgetout.

Involuntary tears stabbed at my eyes but I blinked them back quickly, unwilling to break my promise over a hallucination.

I sprinted from the school, hair whipping out behind me and my feet slamming down onto the ground. I kept running, despite no longer being in the school, despite no longer being overcrowded with thoughts and people. My mind went blank and it was only then that I understood Kalista’s love for running; she’d always just said it cleared her mind. I usually never liked running.

I stopped abruptly. I didn’t know where I was and my vision was blurry. Everything seemed to be moving around. Shivering, chills ran through me, up and down my spine and right down to my fingertips. I spun around, panic whirling through me like a whirlwind.

Falling to the ground, I pressed my hands over my eyes, trying to force away the headache caused by the moving world. A sick feeling in me told something was happening – something bad, something frightening. Lifting my hands from my eyes, I froze, the world stilling and suddenly going eerily silent. There was something in front of me, something I hadn’t seen since I’d seen my parents.

A blood encrusted knife. And I knew it was a threat.