by Willow Rose
The man gasped and let go. He watched with eyes wide open as they crushed the bat, splintered it into atoms in front of him, using nothing but one single hand.
For the first time since the men entered the truck, the twins showed some kind of emotion.
They smiled.
"What the hell…?" the other man said.
For years, the twins had hidden their true strength. They had taken the beatings because they thought they didn't deserve any better. They subdued themselves to others because they thought they weren't worth anything. They thought that, no matter where they went, people would only treat them the same way. But not anymore. On their twelfth birthday, the twins decided it was finally over.
They rose to their three feet like they had done in fighting the vicious dogs, opened their mouths and let out a growl that didn’t sound human at all.
The men gasped and stumbled backwards, but before they knew it, the twins had fallen back to their arms and like a giant two-headed spider, and jumped both of them. With their long nails, they scratched their eyes out, then strangled them both simultaneously with their four bare hands.
34
April 2014
THE MAN DIDN'T FEEL good. He was walking back and forth in his lower deck cabin sweating, rubbing his hands together, and trying hard to not lose control. It was so tough. So difficult for him to keep his thoughts from running off.
Something wasn't right. It wasn't good enough. He looked into the case where his creation lay. Deedee had gotten a new leg and extra skin to patch up where he needed it. But it wasn't good enough. The man had miscalculated somehow. The old skin was falling off fast now, like it was evaporating in front of his eyes. He didn't have enough. He had gotten rid of the girl's body in a hurry, once they started looking for her all over the ship. He had dissolved her with acid in the bathtub and made her disappear. He had scrubbed the floor clean of her blood, so no one would see it. Then, he had disinfected the entire cabin so none of her fingerprints would show up, in case they decided to examine his place.
But next thing he knew, Deedee was falling apart again. It wasn't going according to his plan. He needed to change his plans. Instead of going straight for the face, he realized he needed one more. He needed to act once again to have enough skin for the body. He only took what was on the back and abdomen because of the simple fact that it was the finest skin. And he only wanted the best and finest for Deedee. His skin was going to be soft and smooth as a baby's.
Yes, that was it. This time, he would cut off extra skin for later use.
"Stop walking around. You're making me sick," Deedee said. "What’s the matter?"
"I don't think I feel so good, Deedee. I can't seem to…I can't…I feel like…I need to get more skin for you. It's…it's not enough."
"It's the fever," Deedee said. "You're burning up. It's making your brain mushy. You need to stay focused. Don't lose it. Don't lose control. I need you. Without you to help me, I'll die. You need to do something about that fever."
"I’ve tried, Deedee. I’ve tried everything. But it's just…It's like the pills aren't helping anything anymore. I’ve cleaned the wound, but the infection won't go away. The stitches are very painful. But they're worth it, Deedee. To have you close to me like this…I can't help it, Deedee. I really can't. I…I…Just feel so tired. I need…I don't know what I need. I need to focus…that's what I need. Yes. Yes. Focus. Stay on the path."
"You're losing it," Deedee said.
"NO!" the man yelled.
Deedee went silent. The man regretted his outburst. "I'm sorry, Deedee. I'm sorry for yelling at you. It's just…I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me. You hear me? Don't worry about me."
"As you say. I'll try not to."
"You have plenty of worries of your own," the man said, trying hard to sound convincing. "It's all about you, remember? I'm doing all of this for you. Don't you ever forget that."
"I know."
"Good. Then we're all good. I'll get you one more donor. Maybe I'll get you a new arm this time, huh? I think you could use that. And then patch you up where it’s needed." The man smiled, trying hard to not let Deedee know just how bad a condition he really was in. There was no need for him to know that. He would only be saddened. The man really didn't want him to be. He wanted him to be happy. Like in the song they played constantly now. Happy. Happy. Happy. Because I'm happy. Happy. Happy. Happy.
Yes, the man wanted Deedee to smile and…laugh. He wanted him to laugh with happiness.
"I would like that," Deedee said. "I would really like that."
The man burst into a manic laughter. He shook his head to try and get rid of the tic in his right eye. "Splendid. That's settled then. I'll get it to you right away. First, we have a delivery to make."
The man put on his black coat and covered Deedee up underneath, while whispering:
"See you later."
35
April 2014
VICTOR HADN'T MOVED an inch when I got back to the suite. He didn't even look at me when I came through the door. Christoffer was in his room.
"Hi buddy. I'm back," I said and sat on the couch next to him.
A new program had started on TV. It was another one of those about deformed children born all over the world. He seemed to be all into it. I exhaled and tried to watch some of it, but found it hard to look at all these misshapen children…some with four arms, other with huge lumps growing out of their heads. They even showed pictures of an Indian man who had lived all of his life with his twin inside of his body. Now, it was time for it to be removed by the doctors.
I felt slightly nauseated. I looked at Victor instead. How badly I wanted to hold him in my arms and stay like that. I kept thinking about Mr. and Mrs. Alessandrino and the look I had seen in their eyes. The look of despair. The look of hopelessness. Losing your child had to be the worst thing in the world. I was so lucky to still have both of mine. Even if our circumstances weren't perfect.
I grabbed my phone and found Maya's number. I looked at it for a while, biting my lip. Should I call her? I desperately wanted to. But I was also afraid of smothering her. Of pushing her further away by not giving her the space she needed. She was doing well, according to her posts on Facebook. I had nothing to worry about.
But I miss her so much. It's eating me up. Just one call? Just one quick 'hi are you alright, I miss you,' call? That can't be so bad can it?
I exhaled and put the phone down again. No. I had to be strong. She wasn't going to pick up anyway. I would just end up leaving one of those silly embarrassing messages that would make her roll her eyes at me.
Oh my God. I even miss her eye-rolling.
I walked out on the balcony where the sun was still strong in the clear blue sky. I closed my eyes and let it warm me up. I had missed the sun. Winters in Denmark were brutal. It felt like months since I had last seen the light from the sun. It was so bright, so life-giving.
I sat in a chair and enjoyed it for a little while. Thoughts flickered quickly through my mind. It hurt me to think about those parents in the suite not far from mine who were still waiting to hear news about their daughter, while we moved further and further away from where she could possibly have fallen in the water. It was cruel.
I kept returning to the Colombo family. Victor told me she had killed herself because she couldn't bear to go on without her son. I found it to be a very drastic and slightly unlikely explanation. I mean, at least wait till you get some answers, wait till you're certain he is really dead.
I didn't understand it. It made no sense. Victor had told me Mrs. Colombo had known that her son was dead. He had repeated it twice. I didn't understand how she could have known it. I mean, there was always hope, wasn't there? Did she just conclude it like Mr. Alessandrino? Just because she had a pessimistic nature? Was a hunch really enough for someone to kill herself? Even in Mr. Alessandrino, there had to be some hope, right?
I opened my eyes and looked out at the moving ocean. I kept imag
ining the girl falling from the railing. Would the fall kill her? Maybe not, but she would probably drown, right? The water was warm, though. Maybe if she was a good swimmer? If a boat picked her up?
I shook my head. No. It had happened in the middle of the night. In this darkness, she would be more than lucky if a boat was able to find her. It wasn't very realistic.
I turned to walk back to Victor, when suddenly a loud scream resounded through the walls of the ship.
36
April 2014
I STORMED INTO THE hallway, carefully closing the door till it locked behind me, so no one could get to Victor or Christoffer.
The screams came from further down the hallway. I ran towards the sound and stopped at Mr. and Mrs. Alessandrino's door. It was ajar and Mrs. Alessandrino was kneeling on the floor while screaming. She was holding something in her hand. A photo.
"Mrs. Alessandrino," I said and came closer to her. Mr. Alessandrino was standing behind her, not uttering a word, but with a look of terror on his face.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
The woman stopped screaming, she threw the photo on the floor and threw herself into the arms of her husband. He seemed to be in shock and hardly moved. He didn't even put his arm around her. She sobbed and screamed into his shirt.
I picked up the photo and looked at it. Then I gasped. "What is this?"
"It's her," Mr. Alessandrino said, emotionless. "It's a picture of Francesca's chopped off leg. It was pushed under our door a few minutes ago. When we opened the door, no one was there."
I felt sick to my stomach. I stared at the picture. The leg was smeared in blood. A cut off bone stuck out on the top where it had been sawed off. "…but? …Are…are you sure that it is her?"
"Positive," Mr. Alessandrino said. He was staring right through me. His look was empty. "Look at the scar on her knee. She got that from falling from a tree when she was eight. Eight stitches. I took her to the hospital myself."
A lump of tears grew in my throat. I had no idea what to say. Mrs. Alessandrino was crying hysterically. People had gathered outside the suite. I could hear their voices asking what was going on.
"Emma?" one of the voices said. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw my dad. "She's dead," I whispered with a shivering voice. "Someone killed their daughter." I showed him the picture.
"Oh my God," my dad exclaimed.
He closed the door behind us, telling people to go back to their suites and leave the family to their grief. I grabbed Mrs. Alessandrino and helped her to lie down on a couch. My dad helped Mr. Alessandrino to sit down.
"I'll call for the ship's doctor," I said, and grabbed the suite's phone on the wall. I dialed zero to reach the receptionist and told her we needed the doctor immediately. A few minutes later, he knocked on the door. I opened it and let him in.
"What's going on?" he asked. His gentle eyes smiled compassionately.
I explained what had happened. "I think they might both need a sedative. I don't want either of them to do something they'll regret later, if you understand," I said, thinking of Mrs. Colombo and her possible suicide. "And then, I think it’s time to call the police."
The doctor nodded. "I'll take care of it."
"Good."
I held Mrs. Alessandrino's hand while the doctor sedated her. I couldn't stand the look in her eyes. Such misery. Such anguish. "I have to get back to my son and his friend now. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you," I said.
Mrs. Alessandrino shook her head slowly. I could tell the sedative was already kicking in. Her eyes went numb and the gloom lightened, as she slowly drifted away. I felt my dad's hand in mine.
"Let's leave them to their grief," he said.
I nodded. It was the right thing to do. We could check in on them later.
I placed the photograph on the table for the police to find. I was starting to look forward to getting off this ship. Once the police were notified about the murder, they would definitely order the captain to find the nearest harbor. I was hoping it wouldn't take too long. I wanted to leave, to feel solid ground underneath my feet again. I didn't feel safe on this ship with a murderer on the loose.
37
April 2014
MY DAD WENT BACK to my suite with me. I was shaking all over.
"This is terrible, Dad," I said, and opened the door.
Victor didn't look away from his TV. Christoffer was lying on the bed in his room, reading.
"I mean, those poor parents."
I grabbed two beers and some chocolate from the mini-bar and handed it to my dad. We sat on the couch next to Victor and drank in silence. I felt horrible. My dad put his arm around my shoulder.
"This trip was a mistake," he said. "It was a disaster waiting to happen. I never should have bought the tickets."
"Don't say that. It isn't your fault. You did everything you could. You ordered the best suites and treated us like royalty. It's not your fault all this happened."
"It's not just the killings. I mean, that is terrifying, don't get me wrong, but I guess I should have known better concerning you and your mother. I should have known it was too early for you. I know you're still angry with her for leaving, but…," my dad paused and drank.
"But what, dad?"
"I just thought that, if I'm able to forgive her, then you should be too."
I rubbed my forehead. A headache was starting. "I know. You're right. It's not that I don't forgive her, it's just that I don't feel like she is really trying hard enough."
My dad gave me a look.
"Okay, you're right again," I said. "I do find it hard to forgive her for what she did to you and me. She wasn't even there when I went through the divorce and finding out that Michael was cheating on me. Then there was all the stuff going on with Victor and running to all the doctors. I could really have used a mother back then."
"You had your dad."
"I did. And you were great. I couldn't have done it without you, thank you. But a mother would have been nice to have as well. Now, it's like she doesn't understand anything."
"Well, do you really think she would have gotten it back then?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know how your mother is. How do you think she would have reacted to the fact that Michael was cheating on you?"
I ate a piece of chocolate, while realizing how right he was. "She would probably have told me I hadn't done enough to hold on to him."
"Exactly. And to all of Victor's problems? What would she have said to that?"
"That I hadn't disciplined him enough. Oh my God, Dad, you're so right. It wouldn't have been any different. As a matter of fact, she would only have made my life even more miserable than it already was. I had this picture of her comforting me and taking care of me, but that's not how she is."
"I love your mom, but when it comes to her daughter, it's somehow never good enough. Nothing you do is good enough for her. It's not one of my favorite traits of hers, but I can live with it," he said with a light chuckle. "You have to understand where she’s coming from. Your mom thinks criticizing you helps you. She thinks it will toughen you up. That's the way she was brought up herself, so she sees nothing wrong with it. I know for a fact that she is very proud of you and all you have accomplished. She just never tells you that."
I stared at him in surprise. "Guess I should be careful to not make the same mistake with my daughter too then, huh?" I said and ate the last piece of chocolate.
"That sounds like a plan."
I looked at the TV screen where the documentary was still running. Now it was showing pictures of a pair of conjoined twins from Rome that, for years, had lived in and terrorized the streets of the city back in the eighties. Many people thought they were a beast escaped from hell and feared to meet them, since the rumors said it meant certain death.
I looked at the pictures from back then. A bad photograph, taken by tourists, showed them in an alley going through a dumpster behind a restaurant.
> I shook my head, thinking people were stupid with all their superstition. Then I paused.
"What's wrong?" my dad asked.
"Photograph," I mumbled.
"What about it?"
"Mrs. Alessandrino received a photo of her daughter's cut off leg. Mrs. Colombo was certain her son was dead. Why was she so sure that she would kill herself?"
"You think she received a photo as well?"
I put the empty beer bottle down. "I need to check something. Could you stay here with the boys?"
"No problem."
38
April 1984
AT FOURTEEN YEARS OF age, the twins were terrorizing the streets of Rome. At least, according to the citizens.
Before running into the streets, they had killed them all. Just like in the fortune teller's prophecy, the twins had killed every gypsy in the gang that morning in the parking lot. Like a mighty spider, they had jumped the roofs of the trucks, swung themselves inside the open windows and massacred the men and women who had tortured them and kept them locked up for years.
Then, they had disappeared into the streets. They lived in the dark alleys, staying clear of people, and eating trash out of the dumpsters behind the restaurants. Soon, rumors started running about the beast from hell, the two-headed spider mutant that was rampaging the small streets of Rome. Some said it was a large animal, others said it was a vampire or a mutant rat. It was even said to maybe be a mythical creature, like a sphinx with the body of a lion and a human head, or a Scorpion man, half scorpion, half man. No matter what kind of creature it was, most stuck with the theory that it was very dangerous and came from the pit of hell.
