Bad Blood

The End

I was covered, head to toe, in vomit. My breasts were hanging out of my top. I hadn't showered in a week and I hadn't slept in two. And I had never been happier. It was as though the twins had been missing all my life and now they were here and I felt complete. Though I was exhausted beyond anything I could've imagined, each time one of them woke in the night, I felt pride.

We had moved back home just a matter of days after their birth, neither of us having been there for nearly five months. Dan had carried both boys in their car seats into the house while I hobbled behind. Major abdominal surgery was not fun. All I could do was lay on the sofa, being fed cups of tea and toast whilst feeding two incredibly hungry boys.

Jaxon and Chase were identical. But just like when they'd been inside me, each was totally different. Jaxon was awake, constantly. He needed to be wiggling or making noises, constantly. But Chase was happy to just lay and watch the world go by, hardly ever crying. And in each of them I saw both myself and Dan. They had Dans blue eyes and my light hair. Even if I said so myself, they were beautiful.

'Why is there a banana in the microwave?' Dan asked me, holding up the offending item with a confused but sleepy grin. I couldn't answer that question. I was delirious with exhaustion. And I knew he wasn't far behind. He was an amazing father. He never shied away from nappy changing or burping duties. And he was so patient with me even when I was sobbing because I'd leaked milk through yet another t shirt.

We had so much help. People seemed to be drawn towards babies and twins even more so. The one time we'd left the house to go shopping we had been hounded by dozens of people. We took advantage and went for a coffee in a Starbucks in town and got half an hour to read the papers and actually eat and drink while strangers wanted to hold our amazing babies. Jazz, Olivia, Woody, Isla and Rod were round pretty much every day to help with housework and washing clothes. I couldn't believe how many clothes they got through. If Chase wasn't throwing up then Jaxon was out poo-ing a nappy. They were like a comedy tag team duo. And I wouldn't have changed them for the world.

My favorite time was bedtime. In vain, we had attempted some sort of routine, where we'd bath them, I'd feed them and we'd put them to bed. After the third night of them not settling down, we'd just taken to going to bed with them snuggled on our chests. Dan would sit up with his glasses on, reading a book or his laptop open on his knees and one of the boys sound asleep against his bare chest. And it was that moment when I'd watch him and realise just how blessed I was.

But the trial and my arrest was a dark cloud over us. Every single day I expected the police to come bursting through the door to take me away. We'd heard nothing from the court about Dans charges being dropped either. Every day was spent on edge and by the time the boys were eight weeks old, I'd had enough waiting.

'I'm gonna go down there and hand myself in and get this all over with.' I'd thought long and hard about it. I couldn't live with the not knowing when our family would be torn apart. I had finally confessed my plan to Dan while in Mothercare buying extra socks. Little boys did lose a lot of socks. I'd become paranoid that people knew who we were and what we'd done. It had been all over the tv a few months ago. Or maybe people recognized Dan from his band. Or maybe it was because we had twin boys screaming the place down.

'No! Don't do that. The longer we wait, the better our chances.'

'I confessed to murder. I doubt they are gonna just forget about it.' I whispered as I flicked through the feeding bras.

'Why don't I ring Gary later and see what he knows? Don't go doing anything stupid, again.' He warned me, but with a sly grin on his face.

He did as he'd promised and I did as I had promised too. All Gary said was that they were waiting for DNA analysis and an expert on car crash investigation to get back to them before they could make a decision. Something about being able to tell who was driving a car by the markings on the road. I had everything crossed that their expert was bad.