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[the-cat-towel-cupcake-spear]

The Separation

Mr and Mrs.Thompson where waiting at the kitchen table for Victor when he arrived home. As soon as he went through the door, Francine took his satchel from him, and Anne rushed him into the kitchen. Neither one could look him in the eyes, and wouldn’t say anything. Anne shoved him into the room and closed the door behind him. 

Mr and Mrs. Thompson sat together on one side of the table, and a single chair was on the other. Victor felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Come, sit son.” his father told him. Slowly, Victor walked up to the table and pulled the chair out, making a dull scraping noise against the floor. As he sat down he could feel himself shaking. 

After a moment of silence, Victors father spoke up. “Victor, we have made the decision,” he paused and looked to his wife for a moment, before turning his attention back to Victor, “To send you away.” Immediately Victor stood up and yelled, “What?!?” Angrily, his mother stood up and slapped him on his bruise again, “Sit down child! And you would do well not to raise your voice at your father! Your in enough trouble as it is.” Victor slumped back down and rubbed his cheek, beginning to think the bruise might never heal if this kept up. 

Mr.Thompson breathed deeply, then continued, “Your great uncle runs a school for troubled boys. We are sending you there to live with him at his school in light of recent events.” Then his father reached under the table and picked up a brown valise, sliding it over to Victor. “You have fifteen minutes to pack what you want. Then I will be driving you off.”

Victor felt as though he couldn’t move, as if he was glued to the chair. He couldn’t believe what his parents were telling him, wouldn’t believe it. He didn’t even know he had a great uncle, let alone one with a school for mental boys, and he was to go live with him? This must be some sort of joke. That would be it. A cruel trick. Any second they would tell him it wasn’t true and that they would never dream of doing such a thing. As the silence drew on, Mrs.Thompson became impatient and shoved the valise further, onto Victors lap. “Hurry on with it already boy!” With shaky hands, Victor picked up the bag and went up the stairs to his room. 

As he looked around his room for what he was sure would be the last time, he noticed Victoria wasn’t there. Sighing, he went around collecting things he thought he might need. Filling up the valise with clothes and some toiletries. Then he went to his bedside table and opened up the little drawer out of the side. From it, he took three things. A fancy blue pen with the letter V written on it in golden cursive, which had been a gift from Victoria, a beat up old stuffed dog he’d had for as long as he could remember, and a small framed photo of his family in front of their house. 

As he picked them up and looked over them, his mother shouted from downstairs. Gently placing the last three objects on top of his clothes he clicked the valise shut. With a heavy heart, he walked to the door of his room, and gave one last sweeping look inside, before walking out and down the stairs. 

His mother and both nannies waited standing at the open door, through which Victor could see his father, already in the car, waiting for him. Anne had a small tear in her eye, which she wiped away with a handkerchief, and Francine stood stone faced and tall. Victoria was still nowhere to be found. 

“Where is Victoria.” Victor asked when he reached them at the door. “In the guest room upstairs, far away from you until this is all over.” His mother snapped. “I want to say goodbye to my sister.” Victor said staring his mother in the eyes. “You will do no such thing. Now get out of this house.”  Victor tried to run back up the stairs, but his mother grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He struggled against her, grabbing at his collar, and kicking his legs, shouting, “I’m saying goodbye to her!” but his mother would not let go. She tossed him out the door onto the dirt path, covering his clothes and face with earth. Victor turned around just as she tossed his valise out the door, and it collided with his stomach. He doubled over and felt his eyes water. His mother made a humph noise as a way of a final goodbye to her son, and slammed the door. 

Victor sat in the dirt, clutching his valise over his stomach, hating himself for ever cutting his sisters hair. For ever even dreaming of it. For getting himself into this whole stupid mess to begin with. After a few minutes, his father shouted from the car for him to hurry up. When Victor still didn’t move, he sighed in exasperation and lifted the child off the floor, practically dragging him into the car, then went and threw his valise into the back seat. 

Looking up longingly at his home while the car started to pull away from the drive, Victor noticed a figure in one of the windows. It was Victoria, standing there, watching the car from the guest room. Victor squinted and tried to get a better look at her face, could that be a tear running down her cheek, or was he just imagining things? The car turned around and then the house was behind them, and Victoria was out of sight.

Victor curled himself into a ball and cried the whole way there, which was a rather long way. His father kept trying to get him to stop, telling Victor to think of this like a new adventure he would be going on, and about how he would get to meet lots of boys his age, and how it wasn’t really so bad, but nothing worked. Victor couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened these past couple of days, and how it was entirely his fault, and that he had doomed himself. No amount of his fathers “consoling” was going to make him stop crying.

He only stopped when they finally arrived at their destination. His great uncles school. It was a tall, ominous, black building, with the words, “Amos Aimsworth’s Academy for Mentally Troubled Boys” above the large doors. The school looked more like a very large house then an academy to Victor. He stared up at the building as they pulled into the circular drive. 

Victors father got out of the car and opened his door, handing Victor his valise. Slowly, Victor got out of the car and accepted the bag. His father patted his shoulder a little, then gave him a thumbs up and turned him around, pushing him towards the building. Trembling, Victor walked up the large stone steps to the black doors. 

He turned around to see his father one last time, but Mr.Thompson had already sped out of the drive, leaving only a puff of dirt behind him. Victor stared after his fathers car until he couldn’t even see it’s trail of dust. All the while his eyes watered again, threatening to spill out with more tears. After breathing in a few shuddery breaths, Victor turned to look at what was now supposed to be his new home. 

The place was hardly inviting. The large black doors loomed over Victor, and the whole place gave off the feel of sadness. Very badly did Victor want to run after his fathers car, but it was too late, and if he did catch up, he doubted his father would simply let him return home anyway. Victor stared at the doors a few moments longer, before lifting up a shaky hand. He sucked in a deep breath, and gave the door three small knocks. 

At first, nothing happened, just silence. Then, Victor heard shuffling behind the door, and the sound of muffled voices and footsteps. The left door slowly creaked open, showing a dark room. So dark, Victor could hardly make out what was inside. Hesitantly, Victor stepped over the threshold, and the door was immediately slammed behind him, closing him away once and for all, from the life he used to live. 

[the-cat-towel-cupcake-spear]

The Deed is Done

Victor thought through his plan again and again for the rest of the day. Wondering whether to go through with it or not. He was distracted, lost in his thoughts, so much so that others seemed to notice. His mother pestered him about how he never listened when she told him three times to get ready for bed and he still sat on the couch, staring into space. 

By the time nine pm had come around and he was cleaned and dressed and lying in his bed, he was still unsure. He lay awake, thinking it all over, while his sister drifted off into sleep. He finally came to his decision at around 1 am. Slowly, he got up and looked over at Victoria, confirming she was asleep. Quietly he dropped to the floor and fished out his mothers sewing shears from under his bedside table. 

It was so quiet in the room, it seemed as though you could hear Victors heartbeat as he walked across the short space between their beds, and stood over his sister. He stood for a few moments, watching her sleep. Then, with shaky hands, he reached out to her. Carefully, he grabbed a small handful from Victoria’s silky hair that she had spread out on the pillow before falling asleep. 

He could see the scissors glint in the moonlight, and heard the crisp clipping noise as he closed them on this first chunk of hair. The hair drifted down slowly, and hit the ground noiselessly. Victor grabbed another chunk and cut it at a different angle, then another and cut it close to his sisters neck. Victoria stirred a bit in her sleep, and Victor backed away from her bed. She murmured something, then went silent again, and Victor let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

Finally, he went in for the last part, her bangs. This cut wouldn’t be so easy to fix with another haircut. Slowly, he lifted her soft brown bangs from her face and snipped one, two, three times in different places. The he stepped back to admire his work. Victoria’s hair was no longer a perfect flow. It was choppy, short in some places and longer in others. And her bangs looked absolutely horrible. Pleased with himself, Victor stashed the shears under his bedside table again, and crept back into bed. 

The next morning, the entire household was awoken by Anne’s scream. When she saw Victoria’s hair that morning as the twins got up, she dropped the red ribbons she was holding and screamed as though she had been murdered. “What have you done to your hair child!” She shouted. Victoria, who has incredibly confused, tilted her head in and looked worriedly at her nanny. “What have I done?” She asked. 

By that time, Francine and Mrs.Thompson had arrived to see what was the matter, and Mr.Thompson followed soon after. All three adults gasped when they saw her. “Her hair! Her beautiful hair! Look what’s happened” Anne kept shouting. “What’s wrong with my hair?” She shouted back. Francine rushed off and came back almost instantly with a small mirror. This time, it was Victoria’s turn to shout about her hair. 

“Why would you do this darling?” Francine asked her. “I didn’t I swear!” Victoria shouted as her eyes started to fill up with tears. “The who did?” questioned Mr.Thompson. Then, Mrs.Thompson shouted, “You!” and marched over to Victor, who was standing by the closet pretending to look for a shirt. Grabbing him by the shoulders she spun him around and slammed his back against the wall, pinning him there. “Why would you do that to your sister!” She shouted. 

Victor, who was in quite a bit of shock, stared blankly at his mother, mouth slightly open, repeating “I- I-” With nothing else. Mrs.Thompson shook him by his shoulders and asked again, “Why?” Finally, Victor managed to sputter out, “I’m sorry.” 

Victor had never expected things to go like this. Seeing his sister break down crying the way she was made him realize what a huge mistake he had made. “I’m sorry.” He repeated again, and he tried to walk over to Victoria but Mrs.Thompson held him firmly in place. While the two nannies tried their best to comfort Victoria about her hair, Mr and Mrs.Thompson had formed an accusatory half circle around Victor, looming over him, filled with anger. Mrs.Thompson kept yelling at him about how horrible he had been and how he had behaved like an absolute monster. 

In the end Mr.Thompson was the one that said the things that finally broke Victor too. “What did your sister ever do to deserve this?” At that, all eyes in the room swiveled to Victor, waiting for an answer. After a few moments, he whispered, “It’s not about what she did anymore. It’s about what she didn’t do. About what she’s never done. About what nobody in this house ever did.” Then Victor fell to his knees and broke down crying too. 

However Mrs.Thompson wasn’t having any of it. She dragged Victor up to his feet and smacked him across the face, right on his bruise. When Victor instinctively moved his hand up to to his face she slapped that too. “How dare you do this to your sister!” She spat at him. “Just look at her! She’s hideous!” At that Victoria looked at herself in the mirror again and wailed, “It’s true! I am!” and began her sobbing all over again. “You are a horrible horrible little boy and you should be ashamed of yourself.” Mrs.Thompson said finally, then ran off to the nannies to help comfort Victoria. 

“What were you thinking Victor?” Mr. Thompson asked him, but Victor couldn’t bring himself to respond, and just stared at his sister being hugged and comforted, while tears dripped down his cheeks. Finally, Mr.Thompson said, “Well come on, you don’t have forever.” Victor looked up confused. “You have to get to school. And by the looks of it your already very late. We will give you your punishment when you get home, but now what’s most important is that we get you as far away from Victoria as possible.” 

Victor couldn’t believe his father was telling him to go to school at this time, but he could tell he wasn’t joking. Slowly, Victor finished getting dressed, and collected his school bag. He got one last look at Victoria crying, before he was shoved out of their room and the door was locked. Downstairs, he was given no breakfast, but a late slip for his teacher, which read, 

“Dear Mr.Merkowitz, we regret to inform you that Victoria will not be joining her class at school today. Sometime last night, Victor attacked her. She will face long-term damage to her appearance, and we can not even begin to discuss the impact this has made on her mentally. Please be sure to give Victor the standard punishment for a late student.” 

In the back of his mind, Victor couldn’t help but think this was all getting a little too dramatic, but it’s not like he was going to say anything. Besides, he was too sad with himself to pay that thought much mind. As he walked closer to the school, he lost some of his sadness, becoming nothing more then hollowness. He arrived at the school at 10:30, and didn’t even feel anything anymore when his teacher scolded him for being late, and was “Severely disappointed and appalled by him.” He just slugged off to his desk. 

Victor didn’t feel anything for the rest of the day until recess, where he tried even harder then usual to not be noticed by the other children. That didn’t stop them from noticing him though. He was walking along the side of the school, and was so lost in himself, that he didn’t even notice he had stumbled into an unseen dead end corner behind the school. He didn’t realize until too late, when he heard a familiar calling, “Hey pretty boy!” and felt his stomach drop to the floor. 

It was the name a few boys called him. The worst boys called him. The most extreme ones. “What are you doing out here all by your lonesome?” The leader, Jack, shouted at him. Victor stayed with his back towards them, not responding, hoping that by some miracle they would leave him alone. Of course, they didn’t and the second in command, Piers, shouted, “Hey he’s talking to you!” and reached out, grabbing him by he hair and pulling him around to face them. Victor let out a small “Ahh” when his hair was pulled and the group of boys snickered. 

“I noticed your pretty little sister didn’t show up today. Where is our darling Victoria anyways.” Victor kept his mouth shut and stared Jack in the eyes. “Not talking are we?” Jack asked. “Well I don’t expect you to know, it’s not as if your own sister even talks to you is it?” The other boys snickered and Victor already felt some tears forming, but tried to remain calm. 

Unfortunately, Jack noticed. “What, are you gonna cry?” He asked tauntingly. “Did I hurt poor baby Victors feewings?” Victor just stared at the ground, praying a tear wouldn’t slip down his cheek. Jack and his gang didn’t take well to being ignored, and Piers pulled Victor by his hair and shouted into his ear, “Are you deaf or something? Answer him!” Victor still stayed quiet, the only sounds coming from him being shaky breaths. Piers threw him away and he stumbled back a few steps, nearly tripping, but the two other boys who had made their way behind him, Latham and Donovan, caught him and shoved him back towards Piers and Jack. 

“Do I have little pretty boy tongue tied?” Jack asked, moving close to Victor and grabbing him by the collar, pulling him a little. Victor still stayed quiet. “Well do I?” Jack asked again, growing impatient. After another stretch of silence, Jack shouted, “Dammit you idiot whats wrong with you?” and kicked Victor under the knee, so that he stumbled to the ground. “Are you so dumb you can’t even answer a simple question?” He shouted again, kicking Victor in the stomach. 

Victor hunched over and grabbed his stomach, but still remained silent, and didn’t even bother getting up. Latham and Donovan heaved Victor up off the floor and held his hands behind his back. Jack punched him in the stomach and asked, “Has it been so long since someone actually talked to you that you’ve just forgotten how?” Jack punched again, and then a third time, and all through out the only noise Victor made was a little groan whenever a fist made impact. He could feel tears sliding down his face, as he tried to double over but kept getting pulled up. 

Fed up, Jack grabbed Victors hands himself and held them tight. He pushed Victor to his knees and wrapped his other arm around Victors throat. Victor didn’t even struggle against him. “Say something!” Jack shouted. When Victor didn’t respond he tightened his grip. “Come on! Say something!” Still no response. Jack tightened once more, and Victor could feel himself getting light headed and dizzy. He still said nothing, and didn’t try to stop Jack suffocating him. 

Realizing Victor was a lost cause today, Jack let go, just as Victor was running out of air. Victor collapsed to the ground and heaved in a big breath, then curled into a ball. “Lets go boys!” Jack shouted, and he Piers, Latham, and Donovan rushed out of sight leaving Victor gasping on the floor. When Victor was sure he was finally alone, he finally let out all his tears. Sobbing in a ball by himself until the bell rang and he had to go in. 

He went through the rest of the school-day on auto pilot. Wishing it would be over faster so he could go home. Unfortunately for him, home today would not be a place you would want to return to. When he arrived, he found his mother and father sitting in the living room, on the couch, waiting for him. They had their punishment.  

[the-cat-towel-cupcake-spear]

The Fight

At first, the twins did everything they could to avoid each other, leaving rooms when one walked in, and sitting on opposite ends of the classroom. However, just like Victor’s bruise, things started to get nastier. It seemed that every time the mark became a deeper shade of purple, the fight got worse. 

No longer did they play together after school. Instead they glared at each other when they passed in the halls. No longer did they whisper goodnight to each other at the close of each day. Instead they prepared for bed in silence, making rude faces or mouthing rude words while the nannies weren’t looking. When they were forced to interact they were snippy and cold. 

When Victor offered Victoria a slice of toast one Saturday morning at breakfast, with a face that looked like it was daring her to fight him, she cut him off with a “no” before he could even finish. “Fine then.” he responded, dropping the plate back onto the table, making a loud banging noise. “Victor!” their mother had screeched. “No need to be rude son. Apologize to your sister.” their father had commented, looking down at a newspaper. Victoria had sneered at him and he got up so violently it shook the table, and stormed off up the stairs. “You get back here this instant young man!” Mrs.Thompson had yelled after him. “Ugh never mind mother.” Victoria had groaned, leaving her parents at the table too. 

Of course, the twins were not used to fighting, and at small moments during the day, it would slip their mind. Victoria would save up a story from one of her friends to tell Victor, only to remember a second later that he was her mortal enemy. Victor would find a pretty, smooth stone, and put it in his pocket for his sister, then remember she had betrayed him and chuck it at the school wall. These moments only made them feel worse and hate the other more. 

Victoria waited and waited for Victor to apologize, but Victors mind was nowhere near an apology. He dreamed up a million and one ways to punish her but they all seemed to extreme. He didn’t want to hurt her really, just wanted to show her how hurt he really was. Then, one afternoon, he hatched a perfect plan. 

Victoria was away at a piano performance with Mrs.Thompson and Anne. Victor and his father were sitting in the drawing room, while Francine was preparing dinner. Victor was struggling to read a book as Mr.Thompson nagged him about his hair. How it looked messy and uneven, and how he aught to be ashamed, walking around with hair like that. Asking him why his hair couldn’t be nice like his sisters. That sparked a little idea in him. 

Abandoning his book he set off through the house, looking through the drawers. Finally, he arrived at his parents bedroom. Sneaking in quietly, so as not to alert his father, he crept over to his mothers sewing materials, which she kept in a box by their bed. Rummaging around for a minute through pin cushions and half finished embroidery, he stumbled upon what he wanted. 

He heard knocking and shuffling downstairs and hurried off to his room, slipping his prize under his bedside table. Victoria had arrived home, and he could hear his mother downstairs gushing about how amazing she had been. Victor smiled to himself and got up to go back downstairs, thinking, “Why make my hair more like Victoria’s when her’s could be a little more like mine?” 

[the-cat-towel-cupcake-spear]

The Birthday

It was a fine spring afternoon when the problem first began. A peaceful kind of day with butterflies and sun and a warm breeze. Really not a day you would want bad things to happen on. 

Victor had had an especially hard day at school, and though he claimed to be fine, the big red bruise on his cheek and his small limp said otherwise. Anne, one of the nannies, who was the second nicest person the Victor after Victoria, had given him a bag of ice to hold to his cheek. Fussing about how his bruise made him look like some sort of criminal. That’s how the twins ended colouring on a large sheet of paper in the kitchen instead of outside. Victor couldn’t play many things while holding his melting pack of ice to his face. 

The twins where still enjoying colouring though. Doodles of cats, trees, dresses, cakes, and a number of other things dotted the page. Games of tick tack toe and hang man had been scribbled out. And Victoria had even managed to draw a realistic looking apple with her pencil crayons, which of course Anne had swooned over while she started up dinner. The two children where now working together to draw a character from their favourite book, and they were quite engrossed. 

Suddenly, their other nanny, Francine, burst into the kitchen shouting, “Anne! Anne! What are you doing? Have you forgotten the time? It’s nearly four o clock!” Anne gave Francine a startled look for a moment, before gasping and dropping the knife she was cutting an onion with. “Victoria!” she exclaimed. Victor and Victoria both stared at their nannies. “What?” Victoria asked. “The party!” both nannies exclaimed at the same time. Victoria let out a little gasp of her own and her eyes widened. “Rose! Her party! I’m going to be late.” She jumped off her chair and rushed upstairs to her bedroom, Francine and Anne following close behind. 

It seemed Victoria had been invited to yet another party, this one for a friend named Rose. Victor remembered the box sitting on the counter, with a shiny silver bow stuck on top, and a sticker saying, “For Rose. From Victoria.” Sighing, Victor heaved himself from his chair and limped upstairs too. Looks like he would be left alone again. 

He waited outside their bedroom while the nannies put Victoria into her party dress. When he entered, the nannies were just leaving, off to fetch some special ribbons to go with the dress. “Do you have to go?” Victor asked. Victoria sighed and said, “Yes Victor. I do. You ask that every time I have a party.” Then she got up and brushed past him to the closet, mumbling about being late. “Have you seen my new black shoes?” She asked, rummaging around the bottom of the closet. “Yes, they’re still in the box remember? On the shelf at the top.” Victor reminded her. “Are you sure you have to go?” He continued, “Why can’t you just miss one party?” Victoria walked past him again box in hand off to her bedside drawer to fetch a pair of socks. “Yes Victor!” She said, more exasperated this time. “Please I’m going to be late, I don’t have time to argue with you.” Defeated, Victor left the room calling, “I’ll get you the box then.” Through the door. 

By the time Victor returned, gift in one hand, ice pouch in the other, Victoria had slipped on a pair of fancy white frilled socks and shiny black Mary Jane’s. She sat on her bed, while the nannies hurriedly styled her hair. He waited on his bed while they finished, and as soon as they were done, the nannies rushed out of the room to prepare something else. Victoria had bent to look under her bed, still mumbling about being late, but also finding her purse. Meaning to hand her the gift when she got up, Victor made for Victoria, but he tripped over an unseen book on the floor, and fell into her instead. His half melted ice bag landed on her, leaving a wet patch on her dress, and he dropped the gift as he stumbled. 

“Oh Victor look what you’ve done!” Victoria shouted at him. “You’ve ruined my dress!” She exclaimed pulling at it and looking at the large wet mark. Victor sat on the floor in shock. It took a moment for him to respond. “I- Sorry Tori.” He said, using his nickname for her. “It’s okay! It’ll dry off on the way there wont it?” But Victoria had ignored what he said and scrambled for the dropped present, examining the box. “You’re lucky this wasn’t ruined when you slipped too.” She said finally. “It’s not that big a deal Tori, really.” Victor started, trying to calm her down, but it did the exact opposite. “Not that big a deal!” She exclaimed. ‘It’s a very big deal! I have to get this present to Rose. It’s her birthday and you’re making me even later then I already am.” And maybe it was because of the stress of being late, or the fact the Victor had gotten on her nerves, or a little bit of both, she added. “Oh why should I explain this to you. You wont understand. It’s not like you ever go places.” 

Victor had stood up again, and just stared at his sister in silent disbelief for a moment. Why would she say that. “I go places...” He responded quietly. “Really Victor? Really? Where, the doctors? You don’t go places. Why? Because you don’t have any friends to take you places!” Victor felt tears starting to fill up his eyes which he silently cursed and wished would go away. “...I have friends...” he said, his voice quavering. “Of course you do.” Victoria retorted sarcastically. She had found her bag and slipped the gift inside, making for the door. Then Victor, who had finally had enough with this day, snapped 

“I’m sorry I’m not perfect like some people!” He shouted at her. She stopped at the doorway. “Victor” She said. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything good enough for you, your Highness. I’m sorry I can’t wait on you properly like everyone else. I’m sorry I can’t treat you like the spoiled brat you are!” A few tears slid down his cheek. At the final sentence, Victoria turned around. She looked at him with cold eyes and said. “Your mean. That’s what you are. And that’s why you don’t have any friends.” Victor looked at her, stunned for a moment, before shouting one last time, “I have friends!”. The two stared at each other. Victor with tears streaming down his face, and Victoria with a blank expression, hiding how hurt she actually was. 

Suddenly, Anne called Victoria’s name from the stairs, warning her that she was going to miss all the best parts of the party if she dawdled any longer. Victoria gave one last look at Victor, and said, “Excuse me but I have to go. I was invited to a party. And if you did have friends, you would have been invited too.” Then she ran down the stairs to Anne and Francine, who had done their best to ready themselves quickly, and went off to the party. 

Victor sat down on his bed, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes and sniffling. “This wasn’t fair. None of it ever was. And all of it was Victoria’s fault.” He couldn’t help but think over and over. And he vowed, right there, that he was going to get revenge on his sister. Meanwhile, Victoria’s mood was sour during the whole party. All she could think about was how rude Victor had been to her. She vowed not to talk to him until he apologized to her, and to certainly not be the one to apologize. And so, the war began. 

[the-cat-towel-cupcake-spear]

Victor and Victoria

Victor and Victoria Thompson where born mere minutes apart from each other, in the same hospital, from the same mother. Only they were born in different years. Victor, in the last minutes of December 31st, and Victoria in the fresh morning of January 1st. 

When they where younger, they meant the world to each other. They slept in cribs on opposite walls of a room together, which later became beds. They played together all the time, building imaginary worlds of their own. Some even say they could think matching thoughts sometimes, and could communicate without words. 

However much they meant to each other though, the rest of the world didn’t seem to hold them to the same value. Even though they were both beautiful and nearly identical, Victoria just seemed to be more beautiful. This is where the trouble first began. And even though the twins had two nannies and two parents, Victor always seemed to get less of everything later. From the moment of their birth, Victoria was always just... better.

She could often be seen sporting ribbons in her silky brown hair, which the nannies loved to style everyday. Meanwhile Victor seemed to hide behind his shaggy mop of hair, which often was neglected to be cut, and hardly ever styled. Victoria was always held more, and coddled as a baby. People who visited loved to coo at her, and Victor was often left in the corner, alone. Victor was always fed last and given less to eat anyways, leaving him slightly underweight. And Mr and Mrs Thompson could never seem to stop comparing the two. Praising little Victoria for her rosy cheeks, or the way she laughed, or any other thing she did, for it all seemed to be perfect. Bragging about her to their friends, often using Victor as a benchmark to show just how truly amazing his sister was. 

As they grew older, their differences only grew bigger with them. Victoria kept herself perfect and proper. With flowing hair that her nannies continued to style, perfect marks, many talents, and lots of friends. She was often out of the house, at parties, performances, or club meetings. On the playground, she was always surrounded by her posy of friends. It seemed every girl in the school wanted to talk to her. Her clothes where always spotless and her work was always completed on time. 

The same could not be said for Victor. His hair never got styled, and his marks where nothing remarkable. As for talents, he could play the flute, but nobody seemed to think that was very cool. He hardly ever left the house, but it isn’t even like he had anywhere left to go. Friends where something he didn’t really have apart from Victoria. Instead of surrounded by adoring friends like his sister, Victor could be seen doing such joyous activities as walking along the edge of the yard, observing the bugs and occasional toad, and the activity he seemed to engage in the most, being picked on. 

Victor was weak and skinny, his clothes were always too big on him, which made it seem worse. He had longer hair then average which was never taken care of. He hardly talked to other students and had no friends. This made him perfect for bullying. Some boys on the playground even made a sport out of it, Victor hunting. They would band together to chase Victor down, ambushing him in secluded corners of the yard. Taunting him they would pull his hair, jab his ribs, and shove him around, with the goal of making him cry. When they weren’t Victor Hunting they found other ways to torment him. Constantly tripping him in the halls and on the blacktop, making his knees covered with bruises and scratches. Tipping his books out of his hands and closing the playground entrance on him, to watch him bang on the door to be let in. The teachers all seemed to turn a blind eye to what Victor went through, and students who didn’t harass him hardly ever stepped in to help, including his sister. Even though her popular status could have saved him instantly, she never once went to help him. 

In fairness, Victoria was quite unaware of the extent her brother suffered. She knew he was a bit odd and lonely, and that the other boys liked to tease him, but she never realized how bad it was, or how much it hurt him. It would have saddened her greatly to know the truth of it all. While they were at home, Victoria payed attention to Victor. Home was the one place Victor had a friend, and the two would play for hours, just like they did as babies. They were the best of friends, sticking by each others side, doing everything together. Sharing secrets, dressing up, and hosting imaginary tea parties. But as soon as she arrived at school Victoria seemed to step into a different world. How could she pay attention to her brother when there was so much going on, and she was right at the center of all of it. 

And Victor himself was very good at hiding his emotions. Every time he would gaze longingly at Victoria and her friends, or be left out of a birthday party, or was given less food, or was picked on, he would push his feelings deeper. It existed in him like a dark, angry, spiteful, depressed coil, tangled up and shoved deep deep down. He kept that coil away from people, but he couldn’t keep it hidden forever, and one day it was bound to bounce up and out of him. That is where our story truly begins. 

[the-cat-towel-cupcake-spear]

This is my first time on Tumblr

This is my first time ever on tumblr so all of this is extremely new. I like writing stories and thought I would make a blog to post ongoing or short stories in. Just little things to get my creative juices flowing. This will also be a place for me to try new things and write whatever I feel like. I think this could be super cool, but I also have no idea if I’m doing any of this right. I’m going to go and write a story now before any of this becomes even more embarrassing, so bye.