The sound of thunder growling like a ravenous beast merged with the beating of a droning downpour. I attempted to mask the intimidating noise by holding my pillow over my head. I had an acrimonious feeling that the storm was a foretoken of tragedy; hearing a bloodcurdling shriek didn’t calm my nerves. Despite the fact that it was rather warm in the house, shivers ran down my spine when I noticed my identical twin sister, Mallory, wasn’t beside me. Assuming the worst, I kicked off my bed covers and darted through the hallway in my bare feet. When I reached the family room, I gasped as the excruciating reality hit me like a bullet to the heart. The white carpet was stained with red; I was too late.
A tear trickled down my cheek. The girl’s facial expression was serene; I would have believed she was asleep if it weren’t for the black blood encompassing her. The cuts in her skin told of a messy end to her life. My feeling of shock turned to anger as I directed my attention to Mallory, who was standing over the young babysitter’s bloody cadaver.
“You promised you wouldn’t kill anymore!” I reprimanded with rage.
“You ruin all the fun, Maggie,” Mallory huffed in annoyance.
I shook my head in disapproval as I snatched the bloody knife from her red hands. “You’re ten! Out of all your idiosyncrasies, this is the most disturbing. What will Dad think of the stains on the carpet when he gets home from his business trip tonight?”
“He won’t know, sis,” Mallory assured me. “Let’s dispose of the body. I promise this is the last time.”
I grumbled in exasperation. My sister never kept her word. I recalled how our fascination with murder began. When I was five, there was a girl in my kindergarten class who looked almost identical to me. I loathed her; I felt as if I were sharing my identity. One day at recess while the kids were going inside, I grasped a pair of scissors in my hands and silently crept up behind the girl. I put my hand on the girl’s mouth to drown out her horrific screams as I dug the blade into her back. A sense of power overtook me; her dreadful shrieks sounded like a soothing lullaby. I dragged the limp corpse to the curb like she was a piece of trash. The scene was horrid! It looked as if she were run over by a car with nails protruding from its tires. Luckily, that’s the tale everyone believed. 
I only exposed the truth to Mallory; she was intrigued by the fact that I got away with murder. She was envious and desired to do the same. The next time our dad went on a business trip and left us with a babysitter, she took her chance. Murdering babysitters became a sick game of turpitude to us. The thought of getting caught soon dawned on me, so I urged Mallory to cease the killings. As I hovered over the body of another lifeless babysitter, it was evident that the promise was ignored.
I grabbed the body’s wrists, and Mallory seized the legs. I flinched at the warmth of the cadaver’s fingers. When I opened the front door, an icy wind greeted me by slashing at my face. We dragged the body out the door as a curtain of rain decanted over us; the rain washed away the black blood on the corpse. Dark clouds concealed the sky and only allowed few rays of meager moonlight to shine past the barrier. Even the sky mourned our babysitter’s death.
My sister and I grunted as we continued to haul the body through the grass and onto the street. We planned to dump it into a river a few miles away; that was always our strategy. My bare foot landed on a sharp pebble as I reached the edge of the road. I collapsed to the ground and gripped my foot in pain. When I had let go of the corpse, its head slammed onto the street with a menacing cracking sound.
The rain blurred my vision, and I could barely make out the faint headlights advancing toward me in the distance. Panic swept over me; our deadly secret could finally be revealed! The driver slammed on the brakes, and the car swerved toward me on the slippery road as I flailed my arms up in defense. A squeal left my lips as trenchant pain shot through my body. I soared through the sky before skidding to a stop on the road. My lungs felt as if they were pinched shut. I strained to yell for help, but my voice drowned out against the sound of the rain. I vulnerably lay on the road, awaiting death. Why didn’t Mallory help me?
A man frantically jumped out of the car and hurried to my side. He cursed himself under his breath as he brought his phone to his ear. My world spun, and I fell into a state of unconsciousness. When I came to my senses, I was lying in a bed in a peculiar room. The jejune bedspread matched the pale walls, and steady beeps filled the room. My entire body ached all over; I felt as if a hammer had been repeatedly smashed into my skull. I finally got what I deserved. My father stood over me with a hangdog appearance. He tenderly squeezed my hand and apologized a million times for accidentally hitting me with the car.
“Pumpkin, I just have one question,” my dad tensely stated as he let go of my hand. “Why was your babysitter’s body beside you on the road?”
“It’s Mallory’s fault!” I blurted out. “Mallory murdered her! I’m innocent!”
  “Maggie,” he choked out as he glanced askance at my hand tainted with black blood, “Mallory was run over by a car five years ago and died. Don’t you remember?”