I lasted two sessions before swapping places with Abel, who enjoyed the game of becoming me. I scoffed at the memory of the psychiatrist’s stuffy office and the idiot doctor who thought he was treating me the entire time. Or worse yet, my parents drove us both there but didn’t notice which son went into the room. On the other hand, I should thank them if they weren’t already dead. The doctor’s ignorance and my parent’s idiocy gave me the idea to make sure that from that moment on, Abel and I remained one hundred percent identical. If he cut himself and it turned into a scar, I’d purposely cut myself in the same spot. When I broke my left arm falling from my bike, Abel followed suit and fell the exact same way I did, so our breaks would be as close as possible to matching.

We may have been two people, but we slowly became one person to the rest of the world.

I picked up the expensive professional camera and took pictures of the woman from every angle. I wanted to capture this moment. The last image I took was of her eyes, and I made sure to get close enough to see all the detail.

Setting the camera aside, I softly whistled Edelweiss, the lullaby that my mother used to sing. My lip curled as I remembered exactly what it felt like to cut her tongue out and how her voice was no longer soft and beautiful as she choked around the blood pooling in her mouth. Sadly, she’d already been close to death by the time I got to have any fun. It had been important to me that she understood who and what I was as she reached for me, silently begging for help. Abel had lost his cool and decided to kill her. Not surprising with my brother, and that was when I put my rules in place that he needed to follow.

I quickly adjusted my cock in my jeans as the image sent a shot of adrenaline through my body. This woman hadn’t screamed as sweetly as my mother had. No one had since, and it was always disappointing to think that the best kill I’d ever experienced was already behind me. Then again, like plucking a virgin’s cherry from her pussy, maybe it was always the first time that was the best.

I designed all my tools. Each one was specifically crafted to fit my hand and be used for a specific purpose. My favorite tool had a curved end to the blade, like a subtle scoop. Picking it up, I held it in the light, admiring my invention.