My name is Kellie, but I didn’t have a name, not really, nothing I was ever called by except by one. I was usually called you, her, or whatever; unlike the golden haired boy Kenneth; he wasn’t blond though. He was the son, apple of Mother’s eye; he was protected from her nightly actions. Kenneth reminded her of the man she had once loved who had left; I reminded her of the hate she had for herself. Kenneth was locked away; safe in his room, while the men and some women came and went; I was used, abused, and lost my innocence before I was even old enough to understand why. Then Mom died; the man beat her and cut her to ribbons just outside of Kenneth’s room. He came after me, but I was too fast, his pants at his ankles I struck. It was the first time I turned my knife away from me; I stabbed the man good, cut off his bits and crammed then down his throat all the while I stabbed him all over. Covered in liquid red; I let brother out of his room and let him gaze upon the massacre. The coppers reported it as it was Jon kills hooker, daughter kills bad man in self-defense. We were placed with an Aunt and Uncle who were no better than Mom had been; they were abusive drunks who only cared about the money having us in their house brought in. I dispatched them one evening during a particular intense beating session; again it was penned as self-defense by then we were a sorry lot. Miserable kids; covered in scars, with no socialization skills what so ever. To protect us, and more so me I let my fists do the talking; Kenneth retreated into himself like a tortoise afraid of the world. I had no love for my brother because that emotion is foreign to me; I had only seen it on the telly, or read it in books. Kenneth’s stresses caused him to have multiple seizures and he was diagnosed as epileptic. I could feel it when he was about to seize; the only part of the twin connection we shared was the ability to detect one another’s impending pain, and current pain. We were officially damaged goods; no one would want to adopt us and no family members wanted to put up with us either. The last place we were placed was a group home for special needs children; the older kids were bullies, and the guardians were oblivious and over worked. After a particularly bad incident; I had broken a boy’s jaw, and fractured his arm, I was about to gut him when I was stopped. I had been defending Kenneth from the older brute; and the younger kids backed that up, but I was deemed too violent to be with others. The courts had no choice, I was innocent, but unable to function properly out in society; I was locked away, and Kenny was able to do what he pleased.
I grew up in locked wards; the meds did nothing to calm my need to lash out if cornered; or if seized by a panic attack. I learned how to avoid the brain melting drugs; and flushed them at every chance. When I was good; I was left alone able to watch television or read the papers. When he could or would Kenneth kept in touch by letter or my phone. After he started working at Fort Haven Hospital he kept in touch less and less; seems the medical center was the last stop for med students who kept messing up at other hospitals. It was laughable thinking about a teaching hospital for med school rejects, and drop outs.
I could feel his isolation; but there was something else like a glimmer of sunlight on a dreary day. In one of our last phone calls he spoke of a woman named Catherine; I told him she would be trouble, and that she would be like all the other people at that place, spoiled, entitled, and all around bad people. He insisted she was different because she would say ‘Hello’ and ‘Good-bye’ to him and she never called him Freakdog like the others did. His reasoning was simple, dangerous, and laughable; he figured she would protect him like Mother did, or like I did. This Catherine didn’t care about him; she was only being nice to the poor little degenerate that cleaned up after her and her group. Soon he was going to get hurt like he always did, and he would retreat into himself. He may not have sensed in, but I did, inside him was a stirring darkness that wanted to emerge and hurt. He had always combated that inkiness by hurting himself. I had been the same until she discovered the release of hurting others was more satisfying than self-inflected pain. I knew something had happened when I woke up in the night; rattled by a dream, and the feeling that I was drowning in fire. I lashed out and spent a long time in isolation; where I felt strange and heavy at first, then something happened and a rage burned in my chest. It was not my rage, but Kenneth’s which somehow was flying free at last.
When I finally was able to return to general population I saw in the paper that a man had been thrown out at Fort Haven Hospital; he was in a coma, the circumstances of his situation and injuries was unknown, but the theory was that he was some drunk druggy due to the toxicology report. Was the staff that blind or uncaring to recognize one of their employees, even if he was only a janitor? I knew this was not his doing, but the work of others. Kenneth had a need to be accepted, and was easy to trick, he had never drank a drop of alcohol or tried drugs after seeing what it had wrought upon us in our youth. Then people at the hospital started turning up dead in horrific ways; the first two was chalked up to a Security Guard that had snapped. The rest were gruesome acts that had the cops scratching their heads. The last story about it was dealt with a girl named Catherine who was caught on camera beating one of her classmates to death; during the interview she confessed that she and the others in her groups had been the cause of Kenneth’s coma. He had caught one of them stealing drugs from the pharmacy; they had tricked him into drinking drug laced alcohol, it and the flashing lights at the disco had caused one of his seizures, he had fallen and hit his head. She told some story about giving him experimental drugs that given him the ability to have out-of-body experiences and he could possess others and make them kill. The girl was clearly nuttier than a fruit cake; and she proved it by attacking the detective on her case, escaping custody then going to the hospital to kill Kenneth as well as his doctor. She was apprehended seconds after she had killed the Doctor.
Catherine was to be committed to the criminally insane ward in the same hospital as I was in; she was going to pay for what she had done to Kenneth. She should be in the express lane to the death chamber on death row in prison. I had no love for the idiot, but he had been the only family I had left. The day she was admitted on the same day I received Kenneth’s belongings; they took most of it away except for his medical alert pendant. I was able to keep that one item; because I palmed it when they were not looking. On the way back to my ward I saw her; the wretch that killed my brother, she looked up as she saw me. Her nose started to bleed and she had the gall to smile at me; I wanted to rip her to shreds right there and then. Then I felt something; it was Kenneth he was near even though I had been told he was dead and cremated. I looked at Catherine as her nose bled and she looked at me through her bangs and she appeared to be struggling with herself. She gritted her teeth; the blood staining those perfect pearly whites; she twisted and struggled with the orderlies.
“Freakdog…” she uttered in a gravelly voice.
I went at her despite the barrier between us; I wanted her dead. Even now she still uttered insults about Kenneth. I was hauled off to isolation to calm down. They pulled her away onto the secure ward; the heavy multiple set of doors closing and locking behind her. Later that night alarms went off seems Catherine got loose went on some sex crazed rampage after escaping her room she allowed herself to be violated in all types of ways sexually; before killing again then cutting herself up with a pilfered knife, and then finally being subdued by the staff. She claimed that she couldn’t be blamed for any of it; she screamed to anyone who would listen that it had been Kenneth.
Sitting in isolation I now know it was him; for I feel him inside me, we are back together as we once were in the womb. His last little bit of revenge; Catherine once so pure was a dirty as the rest of them. She will never be free; and she now bears the scars Kenneth had, and she remembers everything now the humiliation, and the killing. I am told she won’t stop screaming and raving; driven crazy at the actions driven by her body, done to her body, and the frustration that no one will ever believe her about the out-of-body traveling Kenneth. She is allowed no visitors even though two of them try to see her; one’s a blonde and the other is an older white haired man. When I look at them my nose starts to bleed; I see a red mist and I know what Kenneth is thinking. The blonde girl won’t be long for this world, and she doesn’t really deserve to live. The white haired doctor had nothing to do with his death, but he is guilty of not seeing that his students were abusing their time at the hospital.
“What are you looking at nut job?!” she says to me once day when she catches me staring.
I just smile at her; knowing her end is nigh, but I turn away as the tricking blood starts to run out of my nostril.
Later in the night he leaves, and I hear later that the girl, Kim, killed Doctor Stegman and then sliced her face up and nearly off. The detectives chalked it up to a mental break due to her heavy drug use; she died of a massive infection brought on by her wounds.
I look out the window the sky is clear, and the sun is shining. Part of me is excited the outside waits; warm weather means girls in less attire. The me part of me loathes people of any type, closeness, contact, and the prospect of conversation. Life is complicated, but for now the red mist is at bay, and the only person to die in the pitiful hospital bed was a nobody called Freakdog