Page 76 of My Twin Sister

I fight back my nerves with mental reminders of what Frank has done. It powers me forward. I’ve gone over how to do this more than a dozen times. Frank first. He’s stronger and will be harder to overpower if he wakes up. Better to incapacitate him right away and hope that Tina stays asleep.

I watch them sleeping next to each other. If only Tina knew the kind of monster she shares a bed with. I feel the familiar ache of guilt for the part I played. I don’t blame myself the way I once did, but the guilt still lingers.

Before I can overthink and back out, I move swiftly to Frank’s side of the bed and press the chloroform-soaked rag to his face. His eyes shoot open and I see him recognize my face just before his eyes start to roll back. He barely puts up a fight. Would he have been this easy to take down eighteen years ago when I saw him as this unstoppable force?

I don’t have time to think about it. A voice from the other side of the bed sends spikes of absolute fear through my whole body.

“Geny? Is that you? Grace? What are you doing?”

I fling myself over Frank and Tina screams. She scrambles to get away from me, but she gets caught in the sheets, falling onto the floor. She screams louder and I want to cry as I launch myself off the side of the bed and onto her back.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I say, as I fight to get the rag over her mouth and nose.

Tina whips her head back and forth so I can’t quite get her to fully inhale the chemical. She’s stronger than I would have guessed. But maybe I’m not trying as hard as I could be because I don’t want to hurt her. I just need her asleep and out of the way.

She bucks me off her back. I grab onto her nightgown to keep from losing her completely. She rolls onto me and slams her head back, cracking into my mouth. The pain is blinding, but I’m able to wrap my legs around her and hold her in place.

I shove the rag over her face. She claws at my arms and somehow manages to get beneath my shirt sleeve. I can’t see, but I can almost guarantee she’s drawn blood. So much for a clean crime scene. But then her struggle weakens. She whimpers something I can’t make out through the cloth on her mouth, then goes completely limp. I hold the rag in place for a few more seconds just to make sure before letting my arms fall away.

My chest aches with emotion that I then shove down. I don’t have time to feel any of it. I’ll have plenty of time later. I roll Tina off me as carefully as I can and pull her back to the bed. I quickly tie her hands and feet with knots I learned from YouTube tutorials. I finish by securing her to her headboard.

“Stay put,” I say.

I push her hair away from her face and do my best to smooth it down. Then I pull the blanket over her to cover her exposed legs.

Now for Frank.

He’s much heavier. Especially as deadweight. I drag him out of the bedroom, mostly so I don’t wake Tina or force her to watch me kill her husband. She doesn’t deserve any of that. I decided earlier to bring him into the kitchen downstairs. I almost make a change of plans when I’m faced with getting Frank down the stairs, but I can’t go off script now. I fully expect to pay for my crimes, but I don’t want to slip up too soon and jeopardize my chances of finishing out my plans tonight.

And so I get Frank down the stairs. I don’t try to be gentle. With one good shove he rolls down, nearly to the bottom. When he lands, I wait at the top of the steps, my hand on the gun in my waistband. He won’t catch me off guard if he starts to come to.

But he doesn’t wake up. He doesn’t move at all. If his chest wasn’t clearly rising and falling I’d be nervous he was dead. He will die tonight, but not yet.

I’m drenched in sweat by the time I get him tied to one of his kitchen chairs. My hands tremble at the image of him sitting slumped over and bound. It doesn’t matter how hot my anger is or how bad I want him to pay for what he’s done, I’m not a hardened killer or a psychopath.

I’m in over my head and it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

I raise my arms over my head like I do after a hard run. I know how to get my breathing under control. But I don’t know how to continue with what I’m doing. What am I doing? Questioning my abuser? Killing him? Jesus. What have I gotten myself into?

A groan comes from the kitchen that makes my pulse skyrocket. Shit. He’s waking up and I’m still mid-meltdown. I need to pull myself together. I have a plan, I remind myself. I can do this. For Morgan. Brooke. My dad. For me. For my daughter who has never met her family and will never know her grandparents.

Repeating the reasons helps me regain my resolve. I inhale deeply and walk into the kitchen with my shoulders back and my face hopefully not looking terrified.

“Sleep well?” I ask.

His eyes are unfocused. He glances around, seemingly trying to make sense of where he is and what’s happening.

“I thought it was about time we had an honest discussion.”

He looks up at me, disgust thick on his face. That’s okay. I’m just as disgusted with him.

“You’re going to be in a lot of trouble for this,” he says.

I nod. “I know. But that’s a problem for the future.”

“What did you do to Tina?”

“Tina is fine. Safe upstairs. I’m not a monster like you are, Frank.”