The Little Debbie Murderers

Ch. 2: Psychos in the 70's

     Before the unforgivable incident of their sister's murder in the winter of 1978, Barbara and Carol led the lives of typical high school girls. Typical sociopathic high school girls, that is.
Being fraternal twins, the two of them didn't look much alike at all. Carol with her thick, light brown hair coming down straight and ending in a slight curl. Her large, honey-colored secretary glasses resting on her nose and a jawbreaker or sucker in her mouth as often as possible. And Barb, or "Barbie" as Carol liked to call her, with her dark, wavy hair and front bangs ending at her eyebrows. They were both beautiful and both mischievous but both in completely unique ways.
It was late summer 1977 when Barb and Carol dwelled in their shared bedroom, thinking about their senior year which was to start the next day. Carol lay on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed and her feet up in the air, leaning against the wall. Barb sat opposite her with a bored expression on her face. She watched Carol's eyes as they moved across the room. Barb always felt envious of Carol's ability to remain quiet and calm and still for long periods of time. It made her seem smarter and all-knowing, but Barb would never say that aloud. Just then, the phone rang in the kitchen and Barb stood up to go answer it while Carol had no reaction at all.
"Hello?" Carol listened to the voice of her sister in the kitchen. "Hey! Yes. Yes, I can. Where? Oh, perfect! Yes I'll be there. Okay. Bye." As the sound of the phone being hung up on the wall registered in Carol's mind, the footsteps of her sister approaching quickly did too. Barb peaked her head into the doorway. "I'm going out," she said. "I'm taking the car and I won't be back 'til way late."
"Good for you," Carol muttered with a sucker in her mouth. And with that, Barb rolled her eyes and walked away. Carol waited for the slam of the front door and when she finally heard it, she perked up and plucked the sucker from her mouth. She walked over to the sliding door closet, grabbed a pair of shoes, and put them on. Then, she stepped out of her air-conditioned, 50's model house and into the humid New York summer air for a walk.
     She took her usual route; down the path behind her house and through the woods a while until she reached the lake. As she walked through the trees and brush, she picked up rocks and threw them. She laughed under her breath when she accidentally hit a bird. It wasn't injured badly, but she hoped it had been. Carol didn't have much remorse when it came to causing others pain. In fact, the last she could remember caring about a living thing was when her parents used to take her and Barbara to the mall on the weekends when they were little.
     They used to pass by an adoption center every time they went and Carol would always run up to the window and see a small scruffy dog that she considered to be her own. She gave him the name "Fritter" and she would beg her parents to let her get him until her dad would snap and cause a scene.
     "Now that's enough Carol!" he'd say. "I don't want to hear another word about it! End of story." For the rest of the day, Carol would be silent. She feared her father when he yelled, but after the fear faded away, all that was left was anger. Even so, she repeated her begging every time she saw the small dog. Until one day, she ran up to the window, and it wasn't there. When she asked the woman by the door where he was, she replied harshly, which shocked little, six year old Carol.
     "He's gone. Had to put 'im down 'cause nobody wanted 'im. Was an ugly little bastard anyhow," she chuckled. Tears filled Carol's eyes until she could barely see and a devastated expression took over her face. But something clicked in her brain in that moment and her expression suddenly changed. She was angry now. Furious. She turned to her parents who stood a few feet away and she looked her father right in the eyes with a mad stare that would have startled a wolf.
     He seemed scared for a moment but then he collected himself and said briskly to young Carol,"Let's get going now." Young Barbara had watched this interaction, focusing hard on how the energy around her had shifted from light to dark. She looked into Carol's eyes; once deep and full of emotion, but now blank and cold. She felt Carol's every emotion so deeply, so intensely as if she were Carol herself. And with Carol she had changed too as if remaining sane while Carol transformed into something dark and insane would have caused her extreme physical pain. They were one, in a way. And as one they mutated into a new kind of human. One without a conscience. One with no remorse. They would never be the same sensitive, innocent children that they had been that morning when they awoke.