i was born asian as a male identical twin and i ha
i was born asian as a male identical twin and i have a rare disorder that makes me have blonde hair my sister was 6 and my older brother was 14 in portland oregon and growing up my siblings took care for me and my brother but i slept with my older brother because i was scared of death one day when i was 2 my sister my older brother and my twin brother went missing while i was sleeping i asked mom and stepdad what happened and then i went to a room and i found my sister braclet on the floor and i saw my brother necklace on the floor too and i was scared so i slept in bed with my teddy bear and the next day my parents stabbed me to death and my body was wrapped around plastic and my body was put to the basement 4 months later the neigbors found bones inside the pool and called 911 and police arrested my parents and the bones were idenfited as my older brother and sister and my twin brother police found my body wrapped around plastic bag and me my sister and brothers were buried in vancover washigton and parents got sentnced to life in jail
The first memory I have is fear. Not the fear of monsters under the bed, but a primal, all-encompassing terror that clung to me like a shroud. It was the fear of being alone, of the dark, of the unknown. My older brother, Kai, understood. He always understood. He was fourteen, stoic and watchful, his eyes like pools of jade reflecting the anxieties of his younger brother. He’d sleep with me, his presence a calming anchor against the tide of fear that threatened to drown me.
My twin, Leo, was six, a whirlwind of energy and laughter, a stark contrast to the quiet fear that consumed me. He was my mirror, but with a different reflection. He wasn’t afraid, not really. He had Kai, and his own vibrant, untroubled soul.
I was different. I was born with blonde hair, an anomaly in our Asian family. And I had a rare disorder, a physical vulnerability that made me frail, prone to illness. My parents, overwhelmed by this fragile, blonde-haired twin, relied on my siblings. Kai, the ever-reliable elder brother, and Leo, my energetic companion, took care of me, their love and protection my only defense against the world.
One night, the world shifted. I was two, nestled in Kai’s arms, the warmth of his presence a balm against the encroaching darkness. But the world outside our room was silent. No laughter from Leo, no gentle shuffling of Kai’s feet as he moved to check on me. I woke to an eerie stillness, the silence heavy and oppressive.
I asked Mom and Stepdad, my voice a tiny tremor in the stillness. “Where’s Leo? Where’s Kai?”
Their faces, usually etched with concern for my well-being, were blank, devoid of emotion. They only offered me a cold, uncaring silence.
I wandered through the house, the silence a suffocating shroud. Then, in the living room, I saw it – Leo’s bracelet, silver and heart-shaped, lying on the floor. In the hallway, Kai’s jade necklace, the one he never took off, lay forgotten.
Fear, cold and biting, gripped me. I scurried back to my room, burying myself under the covers, clutching my teddy bear. That night, the silence was unbearable, an unwelcome guest that stayed until the morning.
The morning brought a new kind of fear. A fear that tasted like blood and whispered of betrayal. My parents, their faces hardened and cold, held me, their embrace devoid of warmth. I felt the sharp sting of betrayal, a pain that pierced my heart.
My world dissolved into a nightmare. I awoke, my body stiff and cold, a plastic bag tightly wrapped around me. I was alone, the darkness enveloping me, a silent, accusing shroud.
Four months later, the neighbors found the bones. They were Kai’s, Leo’s, and my own. My parents were arrested, sentenced to life in a cold, sterile prison. The world they stole from me, the love they betrayed, was gone.
We were buried together in Vancouver, Washington, our story etched in the cold, hard truth of an unspeakable tragedy. The world went on, oblivious to our silent scream, but the darkness that swallowed us that night remained, a constant reminder of the love lost, the trust betrayed, and the fear that never left us.
