My stepfather b:ea:t my twin sister and me every day because our fear gave him pleasure. One night, he b:ea:t us both unconscious, dragged us into the emergency room while my mother whispered, “They fell down the stairs.” The doctor examined the identical b:ruises on our bodies, locked the door, and told the security guard, “Call 911, immediately.”

The last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me was my twin sister, Chloe, screaming my name in the hallway.

The last thing I saw was our stepfather smiling as if her terror were a performance he had paid to witness.

Edric Kaine never struck us because he lost control, as control was the entire point of his existence.

He chose the hour, closed the heavy velvet curtains, removed his gold wedding ring, and told our mother to turn up the volume on the television.

Then he made Chloe and me stand side by side while he deliberated on which one of us would suffer first.

We were seventeen and identical enough to confuse every teacher we ever had, but Edric always knew exactly who was who.

Chloe begged for mercy, but I simply stared at him with everything I had left in me.

He hated my silence more than anything else in this world.

“Are you still pretending that you are brave, Faye?” he asked that night while pacing in front of us.

I tasted the copper of blood in my mouth and answered, “No, I am simply remembering everything you do.”

His predatory smile faltered for a fraction of a second because he was not used to being watched back.