⨠twins are fun until theyâre not â¨
Okay, before anyone comes for me with pitchforks and a âuH aCtUaLlYâ, let me just say:
I love my sister. I love Tanya. I always have.
But also: I have never wanted to crawl inside a pumpkin and die more than I do right now.
My twin sister Tanya and I? We were that pair.
Not the creepy Shining twins, not the psychic âI have a headacheâWAIT you do too??â twins, and definitely not the witchy âwe sense each other across timelinesâ twins.
Just⌠regular, boring, absolutely identical twins.
Like, IDENTICAL identical.
Carbon copies. Copy and paste. Control-C, Control-V.
Except she has a tiny mole under her eye.
That microscopic dot was the only thing separating:
⢠her (Tanya, chaos in human form)
And of course, as children, we exploited that like the morally gray gremlins we were.
Swapped places at school? âď¸
One of us going to the dentist for the other? âď¸
Taking each otherâs exams? DOUBLE âď¸
Gaslighting teachers? Absolutely âď¸
Being tiny con artists? Thriving âď¸
Our entire brand could be summed up as:
âhaha letâs play a gameâ
(which, in hindsight, shouldâve been the first red flag the universe mailed us)
I grow up, meet Henry â the man, the myth, the jawline.
Heâs adorable, sweet, hot enough to fry an egg on, whatever.
Tanya meets⌠no one important. Because men were her hobby, not her end goal.
Cottage in the Cotswolds, spooky vibes, family outing, red wine, spider-shaped cakes. Like, picture a Pinterest board designed by Tim Burton on a sugar high.
Weâre tipsy, weâre messy, weâre feral.
Tanya and I make dinner, weâre having fun, weâre teasing.
She winks at me across the table:
âHappy Halloween, sis.â
And like the dumbest bitch in the United Kingdom, I whisper:
âLetâs play a game.â
Spoiler: I shouldâve shut the hell up.
Second spoiler: This was the last time I ever said that sentence without wanting to projectile vomit.
Mess with Henry a little.
Laugh about it in an hour.
Cute. Harmless. Sisterly mischief.
Except Tanya went method acting with it.
Like, calm down girl, heâs my boyfriend, not your scene partner.
She started nibbling his neck â HIS NECK â and I was like âokay haha too far Tanya what are you DOING?â
âCome on big boy, time for bed.â
We do pranks, not primal mating rituals????
Henry gets up, all shy and red, following her like a confused baby deer.
Iâm frozen. Iâm horrified. Iâm about to write a complaint letter to God.
Iâm waiting for her to break character, for him to come out mortified, for the joke to endâ
Like a basketball practice level of banging.
I storm the room, fling the door open andâ
Not even something I can emotionally categorize.
His hands around her throat.
Henry looking up at me like a golden retriever who successfully fetched the ball for the first time.
And proceeds to monologue â MONOLOGUE â like a Bond villain about how:
⢠He and Tanya have been having an affair
⢠Theyâve been planning to kill me
⢠He couldnât wait anymore
⢠âItâs what we wantedâ
⢠We can âfinally be together properlyâ
⢠And oh yeah he wanted to fake a skydiving accident as my future death, so thatâs cute
I helped him bury my sister in the woods because self-preservation > ethics.
(Yes, universe, I get the joke. You can stop now.)
I pretend to be Tanya forever.
Snipping loose ends like a suburban mafia wife.
I am thriving in my morally ambiguous era.
My twin daughters are staring at the woods like two tiny Victorian ghosts and one goes:
âMommy⌠Tanya wants to talk to you.â
And Iâm like â haha WHAT? :)
And I swear I hear footsteps.
If youâre reading this, just know:
She was planning to kill me.
Henry was just influenced by her poisonousâ
I looked up to admire him a second ago butâ
I didnât hear him stand up.
Why can I feel breath on my neck?
Why can I see someoneâs eyes
reflected in my laptop screen?