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Disclaimer: The following content may contain elements that are not suitable for some audiences. Dark themes such as kidnapping, drugs, self-inflicted injuries, rape, supernatural phantom, murder, mutilation of an alive and dead body, and death are involved in this story. This story is a work of fiction and is to be taken as such. It is not the intent of the author to endorse the actions or events that take place in this story. Furthermore, the events described in the story are completely fictional and are to be taken as such. Any resemblance of the characters within it to actual individuals is purely coincidental and unintended. Accordingly, viewer discretion is advised.
Summary: A pair of twins are kidnapped and locked up and forced to serve the desires of a psychotic madman until one of the twins reached her breaking point.
Dizzy and confused, the girl got up. Except, she couldn’t. Her hands were locked in handcuffs, she couldn’t move. In her stomach, panic seeded itself.
“Where am I?”
Then, a voice from across the room.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A man, across from her, said in an eerily strange and calm voice.
“W-who are you?” Her voice dried and parched for water. What? What was going on?
“No need to worry, my dear. What’s coming next is only natural. What I’ll have done to your sister, I’ll do unto you.”
“…huh?” Wait, what? He’s going to do what now? To who? Her sister? Does she have a sister? Wait… she shot up from bed, the handcuffs clanking against the metal frame of the bed.
“You!” Her voice roughing out in protest as she tried to scream. The man before her standing tall and still, oozed calmness.
“You remember.” He said completely composed as if he was expecting this.
Yes, she remembered. She remembered it all now. She and her sister was outside playing when a man grabbed them both. Her eyes widened. They were kidnapped. That was why she was locked up, chained to a bed. Her voice hoarse from dehydration. Her memory fuzzy and unclear because he drugged her. On no, her sister. Where was her sister?
As she was about to say something, the man made his move. He turned around and left the room. She stared at the door. Where did he go? What was he doing? Was he waiting for her to wake up? To tell her something? To tell her what? What had he said to her? He was going to do what? Her sister? To do? To do what to her sister? A small fear in her stomach. She didn’t understand. What, what was he going to do?
Terror, fear – she breathes heavily. God. What was that maniac going to do? Pulling against her chains – the handcuffs, the metal frame. She couldn’t escape. The handcuffs dug into her wrist, pick circular made it mark onto her skin. She kept pulling and pulling and pulling and pulling, but to no avail.
Desperate, very desperate, she couldn’t stop the bad feeling she had in her stomach. Stopping, slumping down. She caught her breath and looked at the handcuff on her left hand. She was never proud of her short stature, but now? Her hand slim, her wrist slimmer – she had an idea.
With a hard look in her eyes, she clenched her teeth and pulled as hard as she could. Pain flickering behind the glimpses of her eyes. She soldiered on, even as the steel handcuffs scratched against her hand, her knuckle, turning it raw and pink. Then, she got it off. Her face was half amazed that she actually got it off and half in anguish as she looks at the handcuff on her right hand. Taking a few shaky breaths, she did the same thing and got the handcuff off.
Getting off the bed, she slowly walked to the door. She raised her hand, sore and raw, to turn the knob – and it was locked. Dread filling her heart. She looked up and noticed something. A window at just her exact height, as if it made for her exact measurement. She could see out of it.
Paralyzed by what she saw, she froze. Gulping very audibly in that small room all by herself, she couldn’t stand the sight. Was it just a dream? A nightmare? Her sister bloody and bruised as the man throw her down on the bed. The man tearing at her little sister’s clothes, she screamed. She screamed, shouted, shrieked, cursed, plead, begged for the man to stop. Turning the knob, banging her fists on the window, kicking the door – it all did nothing to deter the man as the small room she was in was soundproof. No one on the outside could hear her, no matter how loud she screamed, how loud she banged at the window, or how loud she kicked the door. The only one who could hear her desperate, pitiful cries was herself.
She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes and sobbed. The man undressed and thrust into her little sister’s unmoving body. Her little sister’s arm weakly went up to the man to try and make him stop. He did not stop. She felt tired and sore and dehydrated and hungry and and and… Her hands hurt from breaking out of the handcuffs, her arms hurt from banging on the window, her legs hurt from kicking the door, her heart hurt from the sight unfolding before her eyes.
But, a small, persistent fire burns at her heart. Breathing heavily, she lifted her forehead and smashed it against the window. Ignoring the pang of pain, she continued to slam her forehead against the window. She lifted her forehead up and down, again and again, and again and again until she could slam no longer. The window soaked in a fresh coat of her blood. She laid her forehead against the window and stared at the man through the blood, through the glass. Beneath the skin, her blood boiled. Blood flowing down from between her little sister’s legs. She said to herself, over and over again. She will kill him. She will kill him and kill him and kill him and kill him and kill him and kill him and–
Her eyes dark, two bottomless pits of black, singularly staring at the man. Her dark eyes stared as if mesmerized.
Then, a small voice in the back of her head, that was not her own, asked, “What do you want?”
In a low, soothing voiced, she said, “To save my little sister.”
The small voice, hollowly and ghostly, then asked, “Through what means, are you willing to sacrifice for that end?”
In an-almost hypnotized state of mind, she answered, “Through any and every means necessary.”
Soundless. For a moment, her mind was as empty as space.
Then, the small voice came back. “Yes. You will do nicely.”
In her left hand, a half-torn card came into existence. She gripped the card unconsciously. Quiet and inaudibly, she muttered out a sentence. Then, as she reached for the door with her right hand, a pale-blue ghost-ish hand followed her motion and hovered over her right hand. As she made to turn the knob with her hand, the ghost hand made to turn as well – and unlike her previous attempts, the doorknob turned.
Sweat dripped down his chest. He thrust, and she twitched. He was right. Saving the best bite for last was the correct move. The sister, the older sister, he couldn’t wait to have her. He thrust again, and she twitched again.
This one broke too easily, the man thought. Weak-willed and weak-minded, unlike her older sister. She was strong in both body and mind. He briefly touched his broken nose. Yes, she was strong. He made a mental note to break her hands before he did her. Determined defiant, unyielding. Now, that one, that one he couldn’t wait to break.
Stopping for a second to take a breather, he grabbed his drink from beside him and took a big gulp. Though, he hoped that he didn’t give her too many drugs. That would ruin his fun. While drinking, he noticed that the girl beneath him had a wound on her right hand, a slice across her palm. The man doesn’t remember how that happened. Maybe, he overdid it?
Then, just as he was about to resume his previous activity, an unnaturally cold hand stopped him. Forcibly turned, he froze upon what he saw.
Standing there was the other sister, her forehead raw and gaping and bloodstained knuckles shaking at uneven intervals. But what chilled the rapist to his very soul was her face – completely void of feeling and emotions. Her eyes were two orbs of a bottomless pit, it was as if she was staring at his soul, his stained and filthy soul.
How did she escape? He looked behind her. Handcuffs hanging loosely on the metal frames of the bed. The window on the door was covered in blood. The door wide opened The doorknob broken. Broken? How did–! He looked back. He can see the girl’s arms hanging by her side. But then? What was that cold pressure on his shoulder? He looked and saw a white-blueish and see-through hand. With his eyes, he followed that hand. It was connected to a long arm that was connected to a large, feminine body that was hovering over the girl. The man stared blankly at the phantom before him, and then looked closely at the girl’s hand again. This time, he looked past the bloody knuckles and the uneven shaking and saw the girl was gripping tightly to a card in her left hand. It took him a moment to realize the implications of which a thing and when his brain connected the dots, it dawned upon him.
“Oh, how unlucky. You are a Vincere–!” He never got the chance to finish his sentence. Because at that moment, the ghost maiden that was hovering over the girl, grabbed both of the man’s shoulders, and with inhuman strength, tore him in half, right down the center. Ignoring the blood, guts, and organs leaking out, the phantom tossed the left side of the body to the wall. Now, left with the man’s right side body – the girl crossed her arms and watched as the specter strike the body repeatedly and violently. The wraith punched, thrashed, pummeled, assaulted, and clubbed at the body again and again. All the while, blood-drenched around the area. As blood splattered on her face, she had a small smile. The phantom continued and kept at it until the body became an indistinguishable pile of gush, similar to how a spider would look like when stomped on repeatedly. Then, once satisfied, the ghostly apparition dropped the mangled piece of garbage and left it there on the floor to rot.
She looked at her little sister’s unconscious body on the bed. For the longest time, she stared silently.
She then put down her half-torn card on the bed. Through a high window across the room, moonlight shined down and lit the spot where the sister laid down her card. On the card, the name “GEMINI” and underneath it was the drawing of a pale, ghostly feminine woman. That was all to be seen as the other half was torn off. The phantom grabbed the half-empty mug on the side and smashed it open. Now, as if the spirit knew exactly what the older sister wanted, the ghost slowly sliced open the left palm of the girl all the way across.
Now, making her way across the bed, the older sister, with her cut bleeding across her left palm, grabbed her little sister’s right hand, her cut bleeding across her right palm. The older sister then put her bloody forehead against her younger sisters, and with their blood flowing along each other’s open wound through their open palm cut, she made a vow. With the phantom of Gemini acting as her witness, from one twin to another, the older twin sister promised to her younger unconscious twin sister that this will never happen again. She promised to always make her happy and that no harm will ever come to her. As her sister, her twin sister, she promised that they will forever be together, in this life and the next.
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