Strolson Twins

Twins

Well, this is a book. Obviously. 

It's a book about my twin and I's life.

What more can I say?

Anyways, here is where it begins.....

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Alex's POV

"Mom! We're home!" Asher yelled.

We walked through the doorway of our apartment, coming face to face with our dog, Dutch. He was a huge Great Dane/Border Collie mix. (He looked like a Border Collie with the size of a Great Dane.)

Dutch whined and growled softly, which was weird. He was usually a quiet and loving dog. Probably never growled at us a day in his life; best dog a boy could have.

He scratched the ground and spun around in circles.

Asher looked at him, puzzled, "What is it boy? What's wrong?" he asked.

Dutch ran around us and nudged me forward.

"He wants us to follow him," I said, drawing conclusions.

Asher nodded and Dutch took of through our medium sized British apartment. We were hot on his heels. Dutch stopped at our bathroom door and started clawing at it frantically. He whined and sat on his hunches, head hanging. Asher put his hand on the handle, turned the knob, and pushed it open.

Dutch streaked into the rather large bathroom, he took off straight towards the bathtub. We followed.

If we had only known what was in that bathtub, we would never have looked. It scarred me.

As the naive kids we were, of course we looked. Asher gasped and I screamed at the sight.

Our mother lay, covered in blood and pills, dead. Her wrists slit and gushing. A colander of happy pills lying on her stomach and spilling out the evil white tablets.

I knew that she hadn't been the same since our father had died in a car crash three years. But, we had both thought she was healing and moving on. I mean, we had moved to this city in Britain and started over. She got a good job and we went to school.

I hadn't thought that she was depressed and would take such measures.
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Four hours later, our mother was declared legally dead.

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Six days later, we packed our bags and headed to Uncle Steven's house.

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Uncle Steven was a racist bastard. So, he had to pass us onto another relative.

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Two months later, we were passed to our batshit crazy great-aunt Mable. In Canada.

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