Dead

2┊Twisted

I frowned and tucked my legs underneath me. "Isn't dad coming home?"

Her pale face blanched further, blending in with the ashen hue of her lips; I noted, with mild interest, that there was a smear of scarlet on her lower lip from where she had gnawed on it incessantly.

"He's on a business trip and won't be back for another three weeks." Her words sounded so robotic, so mechanical that I almost felt a simmer of sympathy for her; she was a pawn in her marriage and had absolutely no control over her own life, hence her obsession with controlling mine.

Phoenix's jaw tightened. "It seems like he's been gone just as much as I have this past year."

"Amen to that." I muttered in agreement.

A shadow appeared from the corner of my eye. I turned, fully aware of whom it was; my other brother, exactly forty-two minutes younger than Phoenix, his twin and complete opposite.

"Max sit down. You're late for dinner." I rolled my eyes at the uneasiness she struggled to conceal and leaned back slightly, apprehensive of his composed demeanour.

Maxiumus, though I despised calling him that, seemed perfectly content with leaning against the door frame – I'd forgotten how tall he was. He and Phoenix were eerily similar and yet different; they shared the same iridescent eyes I envied, the same wavy hair though Phoenix's was platinum-blonde and Max's was dyed as dark as night, his platinum roots showing now though, and same high boned structure. Yet, they had morphed into completely different people during their lifetime.

He folded his arms across his chest and caught me staring. "Indigo," he greeted, "I see you succeeded in avoiding your older brothers in school."

I gave him a tight smile, ignoring the wrench of shame in my stomach. "I did."

My mother made a small noise of disapproval. "I really can't seem to recognise you with that new hair, Maxiumus. You had such beautiful hair." She sounded as though she was mourning.

He stared at her, long and hard. "I'm sorry you don't approve."

"Never mind - I made yours and Phoenix's favourite today – chicken pot pie." Her voice was tightly tuned.

Max shook out his dark hair, raising an equally dark eyebrow at us all - at our tense composures. "I'm not going to bite you, mom."

She laughed woodenly. "Sit down. Over here, come on."

Max paused, growing pale. His entire body began to shake. "M-mom I can't. It's there." His eyes widened farcically. Framed with the dark lashes he inherited from my father, he looked the ultimate 60's movie star in a horror movie – except this was reality.

I felt my stomach knot at the use of it's; Phoenix glanced at his twin wildly, sceptically, untrustingly. "Max, stop it. There's no-one there, it's in your head. Remember what the nurses said: take deep breaths. There's no-one there. Come on, repeat that with me: there's no-one there, there's –"

Maxiumus glanced at his brother fleetingly, his expression a mask of uncontrived insanity. Then, he began laughing. "I'm joking. There's no-one in my seat, I know that. And as for the nurses," he stared at his twin seriously. "They're full of rubbish." Stepping over to his seat, he slipped into it mutely.

My mother, who'd been holding her breath and chest in that moment, let out an inaudible lungful of air, watching her son take his place at the table. "Jesus, Max. You have the face of an angel and the heart of the devil."

He regarded my mother seriously. "I wouldn't talk like that if I were you, mother. Wouldn't want it to come true, right?"

Phoenix broke in furiously, eyes flashing like scintillating pieces of glass catching an electric blue sun. "Max, stop it. You are literally twisted, you know that? I don't think making jokes about something like this is funny. Not anymore."