Damned English teachers!!!!

Lol.

Okay, here we go...

Blood Sisters

They looked really innocent. Twin sisters and best friends, what could be more charming?

They were identical, wore the same clothes, did all the same things.

All the same things.

Victoria and Rachel grew up with their parents, their father, an alcoholic who hit them often, spilling blood more often than not, their mother, depressed and refusing to acknowledge that abuse.

That was when it began.

Once, when the girls were seven, they were down at the river with the family dog, Wolf.

The girls were alone with the dog.

Sandy was scratching Wolf behind the ears.

Wolf was also a frequent victim of domestic abuse, and had been cut behind the ears recently by the twin’s father, who was drunk and savagely hit the dog with a pair of scissors.

As Victoria scratched the creature, the wound opened slightly and blood dribbled out.

“Rachel!” Sandy called to her sister “Wolf’s bleeding!”

Of course, they had seen blood before, and seen blood leaving their own bodies, but they had never seen anyone else bleeding though. It seemed like an intimate process, taboo, something personal.

The twins watched in a mixture of horror and dark delight as Wolf whined in pain.

This became a regular thing, the twins were fascinated.

However, eight months later, they had bled Wolf too many times, and he died.

So what could they do? They were obsessed; they had to see blood, to see it leaving the wound.

They would capture small creatures, mice, rats, anything, and take them up to their attic bedroom. From there, they would hurt the animal, just enough to break skin, then they would watch in fascination as the animal bled. Most animals would last at least five or six sessions, however sometimes they would catch a stray dog and drag out its pain for months.

By the time they reached their eleventh birthday, they had led over 100 animals to a slow death.

Eventually, there was nothing else to bleed.

The girls slipped into a depression, and could not be roused out of it. It, mysteriously, lifted suddenly when their drunken, mean father disappeared mysteriously, and his body was later found in the woods, drained of blood.

But then, once more, there was nothing else.

Soon after, Victoria and Rachel were put into an orphanage, after the police determined their mother took her own life, bleeding messily all over the floors.

Death seemed to follow the “unlucky” twins, bodies of fellow orphans being found dead in the toilets.

Shoddy police work left the girls looking innocent, but Victoria and Rachel weren’t stupid, and they knew the police weren’t completely stupid either. They would be discovered if they didn’t find another way. Another way to feed their addiction.

So they had to find a place to get rid of the bodies. And as long as they prayed on other orphans, people who no one cared about, no one would come after them.

When the girls turned fifteen, they left the orphanage, still as pure as newly fallen snow, and found work, and a home. Things went slowly at first, but they soon had a custom made house, fit for a murderer.

Everything was normal in the house, except in the basement, where there was a huge bath, a tank, a pump, a manhole and various awful looking items.

Every so often, they would invite a wondering child or a homeless person into the house, and make them a delicious looking meal, which was poisoned with enough rat poison to knock a person out and drag them down to the basement.

From there they would gag them, strip them and chain them to the wall.

Usually the victim would wake during the first stages of the bleeding, would regain their senses soon after and begin to panic right after getting their senses back. But it was useless.

The girls would drain them of their blood, watching in delight as they were drained of blood, the blood flowing into the bath.

They would they unshackle the corpse, and lay it in the bath, floating in it’s own blood, and pump acid into the bath. Then, wearing tin masks to avoid inhaling the fumes, they would sit and watch the body dissolving. After that, it was simply a matter of using a jack to tip the bath and pour the congealed mix down the drain.

So things went on, day to day. In public, they were ordinary women with ordinary jobs. Rather rich women, who seemed to have no need to work, but ordinary women none the less.

Downfall came one day, when a victim survived the attack.

John Smith, a rich widow, was wondering the streets. His wife died recently. He had been so upset, she was everything to him. He left the house – he couldn’t stand it. Then he saw them. Two women, beckoning to him.

He approached them, who seemed to think he was a tramp. They welcomed him inside, presented him with a traditional home made meal. He was so sleepy, he took a bite

Suddenly, John was alert again. The food… It was poisoned! He leapt from his place, knocking over the table and ran from the house.

Soon, the police came to arrest the twins, who went quietly as they heard the police raiding the house.

The girls were sent to court and tried together. When Rachel was asked why they had killed so many people, she replied, “You do not understand us. You never shall.”

They were separated, sent to different prisons, isolated from everyone else. They knew better than to try to escape, it was all over. Neither twin was even let near other prisoners, in case they tried to kill them as well.

Things went on, day to day until they both died quietly, at peace at last in their prison cell beds.

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