Twin Life

Chapter 3

No.
No......
No no no.
No. No. No. No! Noooo! NO NO NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
"BRITTANY!" I screamed! "Britt!!!!"
I just fucking KILLED MY SISTER. I.... I didn't mean to! I thought it was just gonna be a quick little fight!
I quickly got some T-shirt of hers and wrapped the back of her neck and head with it. If I call 911, I'll get sent to jail and be an obvious suspect. Where the fuck do I put her? A tsunami of panic hit me. Well, at least her maid wasn't here.
Ding Dong!
My heart descended. Great. Just great.
I rushed to find some gloves. All I found were Brittany's gloves for winter. Good enough right? I put them on, lifted up Britt's upper body, and dragged her to the closet. I rushed to her bathroom to see if there was a first aid kit even though it wouldn't be any use because the bitch is already dead. There were band aids, bandages, and cotton swabs. I rushed back to her and took care of the wound on the back of her neck. The doorbell rang again. Finally, it was secure enough to stop bleeding. I laid her body against the wall, exited the closet, and closed the door. I washed the gloves and my hands. The bell alerted itself for the third time. Do I just tell the person Brittany isn't here?
Wait a minute.... why don't I just pretend to be Brittany? I searched to see if she had any blonde wigs. Luckily, she a collection of them in different colors. I put my hair in a bun, fixed up the wig, and threw it onto my head. I looked at the mirror. Wow, I look just like her!
The doorbell rang for the fourth time. I ran downstairs and scurried to the door. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I peeped through the peep hole to see if it wasn't some creepy fan trying to attack Brittany. It was Mark Wayne. Mark was Brittany's 27 year old boyfriend; he was Caucasian, 6'1, had brown hair, brown eyes, and big muscles. He was an actor who met and costarred with Brittany three years ago in a bestselling movie where Mark played the main character and Brit played the main character's best friend. In real life, the two fell in love and have been dating since. He is nice, but very superficial and loves being the center of everything. I first met him when Brittany brought him over for Thanksgiving and he wouldn't stop chatting with the entire family about how amazing his yatch that he spent a bunch of money on is.
I took another deep breath, then opened the door.
"Marky-poo!" I said in a cheerful, vague voice. Brittany always calls him that.
"Wassup, Brittany Bitch," Mark chimed in.
He leaned in for a kiss. Oh shit! What do I do?
"Uh," I said, stopping him and jerking my head backwards. "Sorry, not feeling so good."
"Oh, okay," he said.
"What brings you here?" I asked.
"Uh... you told me to come over, remember?" Mark replied. "It's been a while since we've seen each other since we have been so busy."
"Oh, right," I said. "Sorry, I've been so busy. Come on in."
Come on in??? Shit, how do I get him to not find Brittany? Like, the ACTUAL Britt?
"So, uh, if you're not feeling well, want me to make you some soup?" Mark asked.
"Oh no, that's okay," I answered. "I'm not that terrible, I just wouldn't want you to catch anything. So, um, how have things been?"
"The movie we're making is AWESOME!" Mark exclaimed. "It's where a bunch of evil robots take over the world and the main character and his nerdy friends get together to try to stop them, and then..."
My mind drifted off as he went on to talk about a stupid film I didn't give two shits about. I kept wondering about what to do with Brittany. Oh, gosh, why didn't I just leave everything alone? Why did I have to get violent first? Then it hit me that our last moment together was fighting, saying horrible things, and her posting that video. Oh my gosh, why does she have to be such a difficult person? I, ironically, began to think about moments where she and I got along and were each other's best friend, which unfortunately hasn't happened in years since like our later years of high school. The first thing I thought about was when we got snow and we were about four or five years old. We were so happy and full of life that day; we made snow angels, a snow man, hot chocolate that we drank by the fire place, had a snowball fight, and we went sledding. We were inseparable as little kids. The good flashbacks made me somewhat wish she never became famous; the only great thing about her fame was the money that was brought in and helped the family a lot. We got several vacations, shopping trips, help with school, and met some celebrities. Still what's happiness without your sister's love?
"...It's going to be so awesome," Mark continued. At least that's what I heard when I was done being distracted with my thoughts, but I pretended like I was listening.
"That's wonderful, Marky," I said, touching his veined up arm. Wow, those are some nice muscles. He must work out a lot.
Then he brought out a bag of something.
"Alright, clear the table," he urged.
Oh, what was going on? Were we about to play a board game?
"You ready?" he asked.
"For?"
His lips curled into a smirk and then he chuckled. "What is your maid still here or something?" he asked.
I was confused. Then he pulled out a ziplock full of something that looked like white powder, and then a mirror.
Oh, no.......
Oh, fuck.....
Brittany, what the fuck??????!!!!!

Then he started playing rap music on his phone.
"You wanna go first, this time?" Mark asked.
Seriously, Brittany???? Now Brittany being so distant towards me and the rest of the family started to make sense. She was out here doing crack!!!!!!!
"Uhh... uh... I decided not to do any of that anymore," I stammered.
"I thought you texted to bring the drugs," Mark said.
Jesus, Britt.
"Yeah, well, I changed my mind," I said. "Don't wanna turn into those celebs whose careers are destroyed and whose faces get all tight and shit."
Mark just shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you get bad withdrawals, you know where to find me." He poured the cocaine out and sorted them into lines.
Jesus, is every celebrity a crackhead? I mean really, Brittany? What bad shit is going on in your life that you gotta do drugs? The most famous child actress and socialite? Eh, she probably wanted to become skinny or something.
"Want me to put on a movie?" I asked Mark.
"Sure," he said, as he was about to snort the cocaine.
I flipped on whatever was on and sat back nervously while watching Mark do his intense sniffing. Man, this is... weird. I wonder what's going on in Mark's life to make him do drugs, too. I, along with the rest of the world, thought he was just this perfect, good-looking young famous guy who smiles and acts in stuff. Hmm, maybe fame is too much pressure for Brittany and Mark. If that's the case, why don't they get therapy or something? Maybe I should see if there's an interview of Mark discussing dark, sad things from his childhood that not many people know, but I was still confused about Britt. Well, we were distant for a long while; how well do I really know my sister?

Fifteen, minutes later, Mark got passed out from the drugs and was snoozing away. I checked his pulse; no more dead people on my watch. Good, I felt one. Now time to get back to Brittany. I carefully lifted my butt up from the couch, making sure it didn't move too much. I tip toed up the stairs as quietly as I could.
As I entered Brittany's room, I turned the lights on and made sure the curtains were closed. I quietly opened the closet to see her deceased body still slumped inside. Oh gosh, what have I done. I examined the bandages and saw not that much blood on them. I checked her pulse.
Oh my, gosh.
I felt something!!!!