The archive of the forgotten

THE TWINS part 2

I sit up and wipe the tears off my face and look at one of the walls, the walls are scretched to resemble the tree from Gustav klimt, I smile, we would work on it everytime we would be locked in here. I remember spending nights in here and even though we were tired because we hadn't slept in days we would keep eachother awake because we were frightened we would get hypothermia. I remember everytime we were here. I am not insane, I sigh and crawl towards the wall and trace my finger over the carvings I sigh and lean against it, as if it is the only thing that can give me warmth right now. I smile and the tear falls down my face, there were good times, there were bad times, there were good times that a normal child wouldn't call good times. I smile but I was happy at those moments, the moments where we would find rusty bikes in the forest and being stupid enough to ride them, the happiness I had when we would run off to the village and do things that weren't legal, I loved making murals, but Loïc just came with me to keep me in check, there were good times, stealing cigarettes from our parents, forgetting a lighter. We would run away from the house every weekends, at weekends we were hardly home, we spent all our time in the forest and at the green lake. We switched our suit jackets for a leather jacket over our dress shirts and ties. He wore a loose fitting leather jacket, I wore either a suit jacket that was made of leather or a very tight one. Under our black trousers we wore either black shiny doc martens or high blue and red converse, he wore the right red one and the left blue one and I wore the others. I remember all the times we were playing and joking in the woods, we would fight each other with sticks which always resulted in one of us somehow falling, there was so much innocence in the fact we thought that was normal. We quite liked our life, we had each other, that was enough, we had no desire for other friends. We were perfect friends, we would run throug the woods even if our ankles were broken, we would wrestle with each other and we would throw the other in the lake if they lost and the weather was nice enough, but you could try to run away to avoid that, it really depended. But there was a beauty in being so free before returning to that prison.... We had no rules to follow here. I sigh and smile, I remember the times it was raining and we skipped stones over the incredibly big lake, you were always better at that, I remember the time I hugged you so hard you forbid me to hug you for a whole week, the way you used to pretend to have the urge to strangle me if I said something stupid or shaves the sides of my head again. I remember always carrying you over my shoulder while you relaxed your whole body as if you were pretending to be doll I chuckle, he was a strane fellow. We explored the old "Haunted house" other kids were afraid of and made it our club house, we discovered a little hiding place under the roots of a tree, we would call that tree the Klimt tree or the hiding tree. I frown, hobbits hide.....under the roots of a tree, klimt tree is the space under the roots of a tree, it is next to the green lake, where we used to be happy. I chuckle, the good times really were good, stealing biscuit from the cupboards, or even better still, chocalate, we knew we would be punished but the indulgance of that sweetness was simply enough to fuel us. I remember how we used to draw tattoos on the other's skin to hide the scars and bruises that were currently the worst....

I sigh, how am I romanticising the torture that has been my childhood? How can I forget the way she heated up an iron cross and burned it into our skin, or the way she would take your hand and simply put it in the fireplace, either in the ashes or the flames itself. She loved seeing us scream because of burning. And when we would insult her because of that or use profanity there were two possibilities, she would let you drink soap or diluted bleach. I still remember the way it scorched your throat, it was impossible not to throw up, but we learned not to because we would have to eat it again.... The bleach was worse though, it made you so sore you couldn't eat for days without hurting yourself, you could not drink a glass water without having the urge to throw up, you could hardly talk or cough. You would also get aan enormous headache. She also loved starving us, we would never get the same food as out parents, we would only get scraps and eventually even those scraps weren't even meant for us anymore, because they bought a hunting dog. I dig my nails in my palm, I killed that dog after he had bitten my brother so bad he had drawn blood. I did it in a rage but I am quite sure I do not regret it, even if it lead to a torture of beating and burning. My brothers pain was worth more than the life of a goddamn dog who helped torturing us. I remember that my brother and I knew first aid perfectly, we would basically nurse the other back to health everytime something would happen. We knew we would be okay eventually, we had each other, I sigh....I no longer have him. I remember the day after I killed the dog we were sitting at the edge of the lake, there was a heavy fog over the beautiful conifer trees. I had immense trouble breathing and I was in terrible pain, I looked at my brother, he was smoking a cigarette and I wondered if he was crying of if there simply was something in his eyes. "Loïc?" He looked at me and he smiled, "If I ever beg to be killed....will you please kill me?" He chuckles "I would really prefer if you wouldn't ask that at all." He said with a smile, I would comb my long hair with my hand and I took a deep breath. "Yes, I would do it." "Pinky promise?" He interlocked his pinky and kisses his hand. "Pinky promise" I would have never thought he would be the one who would be dead before I could even ask him. I wonder if he is in heaven, I wonder if heaven really exists, I wonder if she really believed we were sinners or it was a simple excuse.