Seventeenth Birthday. It was my seventeenth birthday when it happened. It was cold, wet, sticky. I knew what happened to her, I knew what happened to my sister, but I’m too scared to say anything. They want me to tell, but I just can’t. This is a secret that I’ll not only need to take to my grave, to take to my life in hell for eternity. Why wouldn’t I? Of course. What she has done when she was alive, what she has done when I was with her. How many times had she had done it, how many times she still is to this day. I’m constantly with her now. She and I had gone through many things since my seventeenth birthday. Perhaps-- perhaps I can tell them all that we did together. I truly hope that while I’m writing this, we both die at once. That way she’ll be safe. My Alice, my horrible, horrible sister Alice. What fun we had, what horror we had gone through.
What should I say? What shouldn’t I say? What if I say the wrong thing? What do I do then? I’m very scared; very, very scared.
My seventeenth birthday was like any other. The birthday party was humble. My crush Alex was there, my best friend Linus, my frenemy Max and my Mom. I heard shots in the wind, they died, and Alice came and dragged me away.
For some reason, I didn’t cry. I didn’t think she was evil. I didn’t think she would do these things just for the hell of it. There’s a reason for everything. Who knew what was going through her head, who knew what was going through my mom’s? My crush? My friends?
There was so much dullness in Alice’s eyes. I don’t think I recognized her. Her hair was black as coal and lied down on her shoulders like a log. The white streak on her hair popped out like a diamond. I didn’t think she could get any paler. I missed the times she was blond when she had both of her piercing green eyes when she used her intelligence for the sake of being a famed valedictorian, rather than being-- someone throughout the war, doing what she needed to do.
The war was vicious, and I’m glad I wasn’t picked. I wonder, however, what would have happened if we lost? Would I be there? Would I not? The point is, she was picked, what she needed was his brother now, not the ones she had just killed, just her brother that she trusts so much.
I respect her trust, but am I scared? Yes! One hundred percent yes I am scared of her. However, I respect her trust.
Her Ph.D. in Physics and Biology was enough to keep her wits about no matter how old she was. When I saw her lab, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. A few vials, trinkets, some severed body parts, or all creatures, whatever she needed for work was there. I knew how much she was funded for. Her newest technology and her newest goals amazed me; I’m sure it would amaze anyone. I’m 28 now, she’s 37. I continue watching her do these things because I can.
How long can we keep doing this? If she dies first, would I need to kill myself? If I die in my sleep, so I pray she does too shortly after? Our goal is to die at the same time, but do what we can to live.
What can we do to live?
What can we possibly do while we live these beautifully horrible lives?
If anyone ever reads this, which I doubt, I’m going to tell you all that we did, and I will make sure that I’ll keep my promise that I have kept for 11 years.
That one curse that I will need to keep for a very, very long unforgiving time.
~ Dimitri Kenneth Becking, The Scientist’s Brother