Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight, The Joker, or To Kill a Mockingbird
Andrew says that Mother deserved it, that she should have seen it coming. In being my brother, he's probably just trying to protect me from what we've done. Maybe Andrew's right, maybe Mother brought it on herself. But, now that the deed is done, I can't help but to think that my brother and I were completely wrong in doing this.
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"I've told you two again and again! How many times must I repeat myself? Your father was nothing but a basket case scoundrel, who's probably dead now, for all I care."
"But Mother, don't you think it wrong that you isolate Maggie and I from the rest of the world, mostly just because you don't want us to meet out father by chance? Seems pretty paranoid to me."
For as long as I care to remember, Andrew was always arguing with our mother, especially when it came to me and Andrew wanting to go out and find our biological father.
"Of course I isolate you! Look at yourself! There's no way that those scars could possibly be hidden. People would stare, and purposefully make you feel horrible about yourself. People are one of the worst inventions ever created. Haven't I told you that time and again, as well?" Mother had exploded. And upon doing so, she didn't take care to think about her words before she said them.
Knowing that what my mother said had a lot of potential to threaten my brother's then calm demeanor, I peered at Andrew over the top of my favorite book, To Kill a Mockingbird.
Andrew's face quickly grew red – almost purple – and he started to clench his fists, digging his sharp fingernails into his palms.
I didn't hesitate in going around the kitchen table to where he stood, and said, "Andy, she didn't mean it! Please, just cool yourself down. Don't let it get to you."
Mother had soon realized what she had done, and desperately tried to amend herself.
"Now, Andrew darling . . . you know I didn't mean those things. It's just that sometimes you anger me, and make me say those nasty things that I don't really believe," Mother said, starting to look very frightened.
My brother has the worst temper of the two of us, but both of us are prone to . . . outbursts, let's just say.
Now, at this point, I was still my usual calm self, that is, until Andrew started to persuade me otherwise.
He took his glare away from my mother, pasted a sweet smile on his face, and said gently, "Maggie, don't you agree with me? I am your brother after all. We're almost 16 years old, and yet neither of us have so much as gone outside without our mother. All because she doesn't want us exposed to other people, namely our father."
I looked up at him, for he was a couple inches taller than me, and gave him a questioning look, because at that point I still wasn't sure where he was trying to get at. Our mother, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing.
"Andrew Nathaniel Williams, don't you dare! Do you have any clue about what the hell you're potentially going?"
"Of course I do mother, I know exactly what I'm doing," Andrew said, with a menacing tone.
He then turned back to me with that almost overly sweet smile of his.
"Maggie, pay attention to me. Mother keeps us away from the world because she also thinks that you and I are too ugly, and would just burden people even more. She never grants us the freedom we deserve."
As Andrew said this, I slowly became more and more angry. In my mind at the time, what my brother had said rang true. I started to think that it was incredibly wrong of our mother to decide whether or not I was good enough for the rest of the world. I could feel my face grow hot, just like my brother's.
Mother let out a small gasp, as she witnessed the rage growing even greater between Andrew and I at the way that she hid us away.
"Maggie! Don't listen to him! I know that you know he's completely wrong in his thinking. Children . . . No!"
Our mother said these last words as Andrew grabbed her. She was not a physically strong woman to begin with, so he easily overtook her.
My mother started screaming, but not for help. That would have been of little use, because the closest house was over a mile away. We lived in the countryside a few miles away from the metropolis of Gotham City. What she was saying in her screams was that after whatever we were about to do to her, us children would soon regret it.
Later on, her last words would prove to be extremely true.
As Andrew held Mother down, I looked around the kitchen. I found the most perfect thing there, an electric meat-carver.
This contraption consists of two very sharp, serrated blades that move back and forth, parallel to each other. You plug it in, push a button, and the blades start to whir to life.
When our dear mother saw what I had pulled out of the kitchen drawer, she started to scream incoherent words.
As I started the knife up, my brother talked calmly over my mother's screams.
"Mother, this is our last resort. You made us do it. If you had only just let us go find Father, you wouldn't be in the predicament you now find yourself."
He then clamped his hand over Mother's mouth, just in case somebody heard her by chance. Her eyes were wild with fear as I brought the fast-moving blades closer. She flayed her limbs frantically, but Mother could not outweigh my brother's strength.
Sanity returned to me long enough to hesitate, and my hands began shaking as I bent down on my knees.
Andrew looked kindly at me, and placed his free hand over mine to help guise the knife.
"Oh, dearest Mother, why are you being so serious?"
I giggled.
Mother stopped screaming and started to sob hopelessly.
Andrew's hand guided my own, so that the knife moved closer to our poor mother's throat.
And the knife grew closer.
And closer yet.
Until it finally reached the vulnerable flesh, and sliced it open.
Mother started screaming in agony.
The knife went easily into her neck, so I hardly needed any help from Andrew.
Blood squirted sticky-like upon mine and Andrew's hands, in our hair, and even on our faces.
We stopped carving halfway through our mother's neck.
She had long since stopped screaming, and it looked as if her face would be frozen forever in a look of horror.
I clicked the off button on the knife.
My brother and I stopped for a moment and watched the blood pool around her brunette head of hair, and eventually the blood spread to our knees where we were sitting next to her, on either side.
"Andy . . . "
Mother's kind brown eyes now acted as mirrors by reflecting everything in front of them without actually taking anything in.
Andrew lovingly pushed his mother's eyelids down, to take away the sight of those unseeing eyes.
Then I started crying.
Our momentary insanity had been broken.
My brother lifted me to my feet, and attempted to comfort me. But, when I stood up, I looked into the window over the sink at the darkening sky, and caught witness of our solemn faces. Our dirty blonde hair was sticky with blood, and our light freckles were speckled with it.
I then looked up at my twin's brown eyes, my mother's eyes, and he looked back into my steel gray ones.
"Mags . . ."
I looked back to the window.
I cannot know what my brother was thinking, but I do know that at that time I started to feel what Mother said we would – regret.
Author's Note: Please review! I won't make any more chapters if you people don't send me reviews. This is my first time attempting fan fiction, so don't flame. Constructive criticism would be appreciated.