A short story, of Sandra and Elaine.

I've been an artist all my life. My mother had once found me drawing in the carpet when I was four, the light of the sun casting shades into the shag. Pushing one way and pulling another. A flower. A bird. A heart. I was just a child, and we were just a family in southern Milwaukee in the numbered streets that my mother would pull out the pepper spray in. My father told her to buy me some paper. She did. There were other things I noticed about the world around me, aside from where the sun cast. I noticed the shimmer of the blonde hair that parted flatly over her shoulder. I noticed the patchy facial hair on his face that never grew in quite right. I noticed his curls that always tightened into perfect locks. This is what I've noticed about people, and the small things that make this world pretty.

We all get jealous sometimes. Some simply shrug it off while others are consumed by it. This is the story of two brains in the same body. Delilah is the pent up rage that Madeline refuses to let surface. One day, even the best of us snap. Madeline does. What will jealousy push her to do? (Caution; trigger warning, self mutilation. This story does not condone self harm.)