Francis whistled happily while preparing a new batch of croissants. The afternoon sun shone through the windows of the bakery, and it enlightened his mood to no end. The radio was on in the kitchen, sputtering some plain news, and the Frenchman didn't truly listen to it. It was more of a constant background sound than anything. Well, until the speaker announced something quite unusual.
"... it is the third murder in two weeks, the culprit wasn't arrested yet. There was no witnesses. We only know that the victims were barely identifiable due to cruel methods. The police didn't find any clue..."
"My, my..." Francis giggled softly. 'My my' was an expression he had borrowed from his wife, Alice. "... Hm, this is no time for giggling."
He sighed. Three murders in two weeks, now that was worrying. What caused shivers down Francis' spine was when the speaker reminded him that these murders had been committed very near. In the town where he lived, with Alice, and their twins, Alfred and Matthew. Francis and Alice had been skilled enough not to scare the kids about that, but still warn them about 'strange people following you or offering you candies'. The cute seven-year-old boys had rolled their eyes and promised they would be careful when going to school. But now there was no way Francis would ever let them go to school on their own again. Whoever it was, he or she had killed three persons without leaving a single clue. Three persons that apparently were not linked, said the radio... The Frenchman tried not to panic, and to find reasons to feel safe. Francis and his family lived in the suburb, and the murders had been perpetrated downtown. He smiled a bit. Yeah, the murderer obviously targeted people downtown. But it wasn't that far away... the family lived close enough for Francis to work downtown. The man sighed and furrowed his brows again. No matter what he thought, he couldn't get his mind off the recent murders. The rest of his work day, even though it lasted two hours only, seemed to have no end. Francis was extremely worried about Alice and the children. He just couldn't help it, he loved them so much. His beautiful wife who made... such delicious... um... scones. And his two wonders. His boys. The hero with diabetes and the asthmatic lumberjack-to-be. When finally he was able to close the bakery, Francis unconsciously hurried home, breaking speed limits unknowingly.
He found his loved ones in the kitchen, Alfred and Matthew were doing their homework on the table while Alice was sacrificing a chicken to Satan – or at least it looked like it, judging by the smell, the weird color in the cooking pot, and the dark look on the woman's face. The Frenchman smiled. Just as usual. He ruffled the boys' hair playfully.
"Hi boys."
The kids answered with two wide smiles and happy greetings. The man then stood next to his wife and wrapped an arm around her waist.
"What are you doing exactly ?"
All he got was a glare and a huff. He chuckled softly and pecked her cheek, then started giving her instructions to avoid burning that poor helpless chicken, and together, they managed to cook an edible meal. Probably not the most delicious things ever made in this household, but still edible. Alice shooed the boys away, and started dressing the table while they put their school stuff away. Francis brought the last touches to their meal, and the happy family all settled down, chatting about their respective days while they ate. Matthew said the teacher had told him not to take part in the soccer match because it was too tiring, and it had made him sad. But Francis cheered him up by promising he would play soccer with him and a few friends if he wanted. But he also said the teacher was right, and that he would have to stop as soon as he would feel out of breath. Matthew nodded cheerfully, he was already happy just to know he would get to play. Alfred complained that he didn't get to eat a second slice of cake at the cafeteria. Alice suggested with all the seriousness of the world to make a salt cake so he could eat it without having to worry about the amount of sugar in it, and Francis grimaced. The two started fighting playfully about Alice's cooking skills, and the kids kept on chatting like nothing was happening. It was a normal day with the Bonnefoy-Kirkland family.
The children were allowed to play in their room a little while their parents were washing the dishes. Then, they brushed their teeth and washed their faces, were kissed good night and tucked in their beds. After that, nothing more really happened. Alice just said she was dead tired, and to be honest, Francis was too. They went to bed as well. That was when Francis brought the topic of the murders up.
"Have you heard about the murder ?" He asked softly. Alice cuddled to him and sighed as she nodded. "I'm growing worried, love. I'm scared." She murmured.
Francis stroked her long hair comfortingly, sighing as well. "Tomorrow... don't let them go to school alone, please... Can you drive them here ? I would have done it myself, but you know I have to be at the bakery way too early for that."
Alice nodded against his chest, looping her pale arms around him. The man rubbed her back lovingly, telling her about the many reasons they had not to worry too much. She eventually fell asleep under his loving glance, and only moments later, Francis followed her in dream land.
Francis was standing in a very dark place. Actually, he had no idea where he was, could not tell how big the room was, not even if it was a room in the first place. All he saw, in front of him, behind him, next to him, above and under him, was darkness. Nothing else. He tried to take a step, and noted with a kind of relief that his movement was not hindered by anything. However, he had no landmarks, thus he didn't know if he actually had moved forwards, or backwards, or if he had moved at all. It was a very unsettling feeling, a mix of disorientation, dizziness and... fear. This situation was genuinely and legitimately scary, in a very vicious kind of way. The kind of fear that runs up your spine in chills and ends up stinging in the back of your neck. Francis felt watched. As if someone – or something – was taking pleasure seeing his own angst. He heard a soft, innocent laugh. A child's laugh. Matthew's laugh. Then Alfred's laugh. Strangely, it didn't soothe him at all. He gulped and hesitantly called their names, his voice echoing deeply as if it didn't come from his mouth. The laughter continued. The Frenchman's breath became difficult and shaky from the fear. He felt like his children were endangered. Taking a deep breath, he started walking, until he found himself in front of a glass house. The kids' soft voices had grown louder, and seemed to come from the building itself. The man took a step inside, seeing his reflections everywhere on the walls. He sighed shakily. At least he knew where his feet landed now. But the uncomfortable feeling was only stronger. His heart threatened to burst, thumping madly against his ribcage and shaking his bones. The fast beat was becoming unbearable, blood rushed to Francis' head, and the low ear-crushing hits mixed to the sweet but loud laughter drove him crazy. He fell to his knees, holding his head between his hands, crying from the pain and pure terror. Suddenly, everything was silent when the two boys' reflections appeared in the many mirrors, making Francis jolt violently and shriek desperately.
"Hello, Papa !" Alfred said. "You look scared, so scared. Aren't you happy to see us ?"
Francis turned around, expecting to see the twins standing behind him just like the mirrors showed it. But there was nobody. His eyes widened with fear as he turned back to see the reflection facing him.
"You know, we found a way not to be sick anymore !" Matthew cheered cutely. Alfred nodded in approval, explaining. "See, Matthew needs new lungs and stuff ? And I need a new pancreas."
Francis stared at the images silently. For a few seconds, the only audible sound was his erratic breathing. The boys smiled happily, maybe too happily. It was creepy. Then they both started ripping their clothes off, and the man jerked back nervously, waiting for what was to happen next. He couldn't do anything but wait. However, as he thought he couldn't be more afraid of everything, the two adorable children in the mirror ripped their chests' skin off. Francis felt sick and he shrieked again, covering his mouth with his hands. He could only watch in horror as the skin was torn so easily, with no apparent sign of pain from the boys, his boys. Alfred gripped his ribs and started snapping them apart with a force that didn't look human, while his brother searched through his guts with an amused smile on his face, looking like he was barely tickling himself. After a short while, Alfred was able to pull his breathing organs out of himself, simply ripping them off, and his breathing became husky, he quickly became as red as the ground was from his bleeding. Meanwhile, Matthew plucked his own pancreas out, creating another blood pool under their feet. Francis tried to look away, but he couldn't find a single spot where the reflections were not insolently continuing their frightening ritual. The two boys offered their organs to each other, and their faces suddenly became as white as freshly fallen snow before they collapsed, shiny tears trickling down their cheeks.
"That's too bad... we didn't succeed... in fixing... each oth..."
Francis jolted awake, bathing in sweat. Alice was awake too, giving him worried glances. The lights were on. The blond man looked around, slowly understanding he was in his bedroom, with his wife, whom he had woken up by stirring and whining like a frightened puppy... and that this had been a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Without a word, he hugged Alice tenderly, seeking comfort. For once, the woman didn't huff, and she just hugged him back comfortingly. After a while of silent cuddling, she asked him things people usually ask in this kind of situation, like 'did you have a nightmare' or 'are you alright', even though the answers were super obvious. It was the kind of question you ask to comfort people. Francis answered with hums, the kind of sounds that are not a positive nor a negative answer. He stood up, and said he was going to check on the boys. He was still frightened from his dream, and hesitated before opening the door of their room.
The man smiled fondly when he found out everything was normal. The two adorable children were sleeping in their bed. Francis watched Alfred for a while, sprawled all over his bed, his pillow on the floor and his blanket half under his head, half on the nightstand. His dad carefully put everything back in place, tucking him into bed without waking him, then walked to Matthew. The little boy was curled up into a ball, completely hidden under his blanket. Francis pulled it down a little to reveal his sleeping face and allow him to breathe properly and sighed. He noticed the shutters were open, and of course, closed them, even though the sight of two kids sleeping under the moonlight looked adorable. The Frenchman left the room silently and padded back to his own room.
He smiled half-heartedly at his wife as he settled back into bed. This wasn't the first time he had such nightmares. It was the third, actually. He started to think he needed a psychologist, but he didn't have time to see one because of his job. Running a bakery had always been his dream, but it ate a lot of time and was exhausting. Alice stroked his hair softly.
"What are you thinking, honey ? You look worried." she asked unusually softly. Her husband gave her a small smile and told her it was nothing. That it was probably that murder thing that was occupying his mind and giving him nightmares. The woman nodded, finding this hypothesis plausible. They both fell asleep more or less peacefully, hoping things would settle down soon.