Jason made his way quickly along the sidewalk, cursing under his breath. Had he any idea that the work meeting would be so late, he would have called home. It was now pushing on midnight, and his cellphone had died.
Jason scanned the area with green eyes, desperately searching for a payphone. His chances of finding one seemed slim, as he had entered the quieter part of town. Jason groaned, dreading the inevitable encounter with his furious wife.
Looks like somebody's sleeping on the couch today...
Just as Jason gave it up and resolved to just walk home, he tripped and stumbled, sending his phone flying into the grass. He sighed, and trudged over. As he knelt to pick it up, he heard a loud, but distant bang. Jason glanced up, and saw an old, most likely abandoned shed. Another crashing sound came from within, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
Jason stood up slowly, hand closing around his phone, eyes locked warily on the beaten up building. He approached it slowly and with purpose, his steps quiet and deliberate.
As Jason got closer to the building, his stomach lurched nervously – were those footsteps he had heard?
Jason neared the door, and simply stood in front of it, thinking about how stupid this was. It was probably just a dog, or a raccoon, or –
Yes, those were definitely footsteps.
Jason took a deep, quiet breath, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing, his palms slick with sweat. He rationalized that he would just look in, put his nerves at rest, and leave all this foolishness behind him. He exhaled, shook his head firmly, and shoved the door open, rushing into the shed with quick, firm steps.
Jason was..shocked, and utterly horrified, by what he saw.
The body of a man, disheveled and blood-soaked, lay sprawled face up on the floor. He was shoved carelessly to the side of the room, no effort made whatsoever to conceal the sickening display. His pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, his wrinkled shirt clinging to him with a combination of blood and sweat. His glassy, dead eyes were wide and terrified, his mouth hanging open in an eternal monument to his final emotion. The man was covered in cuts and already-forming bruises, the most prominent of which being a thick gash on his neck, cutting in deep and leaving his head hanging on by a mere flap of skin. The man must have been drug over to his current place, for there were dark trails of red smeared on the ground, leading from his body to the middle of the room. It was obvious that he had put up a fight, for there were lines and splashes of the vile liquid decorating the walls. The part that stood out the most, however, was the large “R”, drawn in thick streaks with the poor victim's blood.
And there, standing in front of the window, were two children. A boy and a girl.
Their backs were to him, and they appeared unnervingly calm in the midst of this horrible scene. They were so...young, looking to be about ten, maybe eleven. The girl stood to the left, her long, dark hair flowing down her back, shimmering and silvery in the moonlight. Right next to her, to the right, stood the boy, with the same silvery black hair, cut much shorter. They were the same height, with the same pale skin. In the girl's left hand, which lay at her side, was a gun, and in the boy's right, a large, bloody meat cleaver.
The boy's left hand was clasped firmly in the girl's right, and they appeared about to climb out the window, but stopped at the sound of his footsteps. Simultaneously, they glanced over their shoulders, revealing glowing, identical gray eyes. At the sight of him, the twins glanced knowingly at each other. Suddenly, the boy raised their clasped hands and spun the girl, in a way that reminded Jason of a ballerina, and she was facing him, the gun raised and pointed directly at his head.
Jason was frozen in shocked horror at the bloody mess that surrounded him, and now in fear as he saw the young girl's polite, amused smile. His senses came to him, finally, and he tried to get away, stumbling back as his jaw clicked and he shook his head frantically in terror. The female twin's soft, cheerful giggle rang in the silence, as if this was all just a game, and she pulled the trigger, the sound of the shot cracking painfully through the air.
The blood splattered from the wound, oozing into his eyes, and he dropped back, dead on contact.
The young girl's polite, half-interested smile remained in place as she watched him fall. Without a word, Perry spun her again, so that her back was to the room once more.
Mary looked over at her twin and smiled, pleased that he didn't let go of her hand. Perry was smiling also, a polite little smile that was identical to hers.
“Shall we take our leave, Sister?”
Mary glanced out at the night sky, watching the stars sparkle. She nodded.
“But of course, Brother.”