For me, this piece is a bit more fun than it is scary; I love scary twins and axes and blood splatters, so it hits a lot of my favorite tropes. I had a lot of fun with their hair and outfits as well! Obviously The Shining twins are rightfully iconic and infamous, but the girl on the left is serving some Red Guard mid-Cultural Revolution vibes. I think what’s so compelling about scary things, from True Crime to horror, is that sense of lacking bodily autonomy, but sometimes it’s cool to lean into the aesthetic of it as well.
I let the silence overtake me then, as space and time grew quiet and alone. A dark void surrounded and filled me as the black grew into existence, and I knew that we had done this. We had stirred this darkness, stirred it and fed it and made it grow, and it consumed us. Slowly, desperately, and terribly, it consumed us.
The silence drives me to desperation. I am here in the dark, with little left of life but a desire to end the madness. Here is my final hope, my last call into the darkness that crawls ever closer to me. This is my recollection and record of the nightmare that has beset us all, and left us, far from one another, alone and quaking.
My skin has taken upon it a pallor like that of the grave. My eyes, peeled wide from staring into darkness have gathered beneath them bags of tired blood and weakened plasma, the children of my rampant insomnia. My hair is filthy; my skin is made-up with the dust of these long dead passages. My fingers are cut and callused and my nails are but brittle, receding refugees of cracked cartilage. I have not the beauty I once did. I have become a rotten ghost, a pitiful creature, and a terror to the eyes, but nothing compared to what moves in the darkness around me.
Delilah would do anything to see her sister again, even if it means walking into a strange and dangerous world.
Trigger/Content Warning: Sexual Assault
She saw the boys surrounding her sister. She saw her sister’s face bloody and beaten. She saw bruises covering her arms. And then she heard her scream. One of the boys dropped down in front of her, knife in hand. He spread open her legs.
And then Delilah shot up in bed, the heat from the sun already beating down heavily upon her forehead. Fear found its way into her sweat. It dripped into her eye and made her jump. She rushed over to the phone to call her best friend.
Dante reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of pink-rimmed glasses, handing them to Delilah. He smiled.
“There’s nothing to be scared of, D. You think I’d let you get hurt?”