1.5:

At this point, when I go to sleep each night, my dreams are just flashbacks. All of my thoughts even stay with me when I'm awake. They are frequent during the day, and vivid when I go to bed.

Especially in the beginning, when I first moved down here, things were really bugging me. I was having nightmares about the birth, and worrying about the twins nonstop. The process of having the girls really was... awful. I've never felt pain like that ever in my life. It was so horrible, and so scary. I felt like everything below my chest was on fire... and like I was being ripped in half. But, I knew I had to do it... it's not like there was a way out, and that was probably the scariest part for me. The pain, the hurt, the possibility of losing my own life was unavoidable. Sometimes it's still hard to think about. But, wonderfully enough, 31 was right about looking at the baby and just forgetting all about it. I was able to look at my two beautiful daughters and fully see past the hurt. I didn't really think about for a bit until all of my thoughts came back. But really... despite the pros of the situation, I just still think about the pain sometimes and I just don't know how to put the agony into words.

What happened to me was unexpected, and extremely hard to go through, especially towards the end. But, I suppose that because of it, I'm much stronger now. That doesn't mean a thing though. It doesn't make up for how I've felt since then either. The last time I saw the girls, more than three years ago, they were only infants, and I doubt they have any memories of me. They barely know anything about me, even now. Even though there hasn't been any contact, they are my children and I miss them horribly. I don't really even know them, but I carried them and had them... and I love them. I will always care about them no matter what. I'm a mother who hasn't seen her children in years, but I wish more and more each day that I could hold them and just be there for them, because I know that their lives would be so much easier if I was in them. I'm sure it would ease their minds so much to know that they have someone who's there. A part of me regrets my choice of leaving at least once a day.

I mean, might as well just have abandoned my children. Pretty sure what I did falls into that category, even though I partially did this for their safety. I really am a terrible mother, if you can even call me that. I've lied to them; I've left them behind. I pushed them out of my life when they were the most vulnerable. That was a choice I made when I was exhausted and overwhelmed, and there isn't a time where I wouldn't take it all back. I wish that they were in my life every single day. The only thing I can be at peace with about my decision is that I did leave them with 30 and my closest friends, who I know are all capable of making sure the twins are safe and in excellent care.

I will admit, I've tried connecting with them a bit. When they were little I would knit clothes for them, and have 30 deliver them. I'd have him tell the girls that I had made the clothes while I was pregnant. When they asked why I had made so many, he'd tell them that I didn't have much else to do during the time. Funny enough, they would think I made so many because I knew I was having twins. Not that that's true... I actually had no idea. My only clue, which I never really picked up on, is that I had gone to my final appointments after escaping the prison, and 2 looked at me, surprised that I had gotten bigger than expected. I just figured it was a big baby because 30's a big guy - really tall, broad shoulders and stuff. But no, we got the unexpected. And as long as my daughters are happy, I guess that's what matters.

I hear water dripping in the compound, so I get out of bed and grab a vase. I look through our rooms, trying to figure out where the drip could be coming from. Considering that it's January, some of the snow melts at this time of year, and we occasionally get leaks because of it. I enter our living room, to see that the drip is on the far side, right near our radio and monitor. I bend down and place the vase under the spot in the ceiling where the water appears to be coming through.

30 regularly tells me about the girls. Over the past few years, he's updated me almost every single day, telling me what they're like and all the funny things they say. He told me that the one who looks like him is taller, and the one who resembles me is shorter. He thinks that's funny because of our physical differences, and how they've managed to show through genetically. I guess you just can't escape some things.

A few days ago, 30 told me something I was actually really happy to hear. I think he thought I was going to be upset, but there was no reason for me to be mad. I mean, we established the whole "Don't tell the twins anything about their parents" situation... but at this point, I really don't think there's any danger to worry about. I did what I did in hopes to protect them, but it's been so long that I doubt there's anything to worry about. 30 accidentally told them about me, but that's okay. They have some comfort, but I doubt it'll be long before they figure out the next half. 20 is smart. She probably already knows that 30's her dad. If they do figure it out... I'll be really happy. I wouldn't mind it at all. I did a terrible thing and they deserve to have a real parent in their lives. All I've done is screw that up for them.

Thinking about all is this kind of tires my brain out, and I usually take a nap after. Yes, I still get varying amounts of flashbacks, but it also occasionally clears my head and makes me feel better. I just want to go back and fix things. All I could wish is that there was something I could do.

I go back into the bedroom and lay my head down on the pillows. Sometimes if I lay still on my bed while I'm thinking, I can hear the sounds of Romulus just above the ceiling, and I can pretend that I'm still there, living the life that I should be.

1.5:

Of all the memories I've had since moving to the underground, one of the most vivid things I remember is one night in specific. I was the way I felt that I remember the most, rather than the actual doings. I know for certain that it had to happen though. My mind and body were beginning to conflict. I had had the girls a little more than two months before, and I had gotten the majority of my strength back. I could walk just fine now, without my legs or hips aching. I could jog and I could actually put a moderate amount of strain on myself. I knew I shouldn't do it often, so I restrained myself. There was no reason to be running around or whatever anyway. I just needed to take it easy, and try and get my life back to normal.

Back to normal...
Everything that had happened to 30 and I really disturbed the balance in our lives. I had a bad feeling about the trip, especially because that thing was still out there. I had no idea that she had already payed a visit to Romulus, specifically the medical center. I didn't know that I was already trapped. The formula was already circulating in my bloodstream. It was too late for me. By the time the 20th came, and 30 kissed me and left out the door, my destiny had changed. My life was now headed down a very different path.

Our routine left with him. Nothing was ever the same.

It had been more than a year. We settled into our new home, and after a few weeks, my health had come back well for the most part. I was ready to live again. 30 has been constantly watching me, and monitoring my health. He became surprisingly controlling for the first bit of time, but I didn't say anything because I knew he was looking out for me and didn't want me to get hurt again. By the two month mark, I could just about take care of myself. 30 returned to work each day, and he and the others began raising the girls. We were almost back to the way we were... almost.

There was still something we hadn't returned to. More or less, I think we were a little scared to go back to the way we were. I asked 2 about it right after I had 45 and 20, and he told me (with a serious blush) that I'd be just fine and that there was nothing to worry about. Once all the pain left my body and my stomach scar wasn't so tender, the only thing I could think about was 30. When I was only eight or nine weeks pregnant, 31 was telling me that majority of the focus goes to the baby, so there's really no couple's time or anything like that. She said it was something she and her husband struggled with for the first few months, just being alone together and stuff. When I was laying in bed, and could barely move my legs, I thought all about how 30 and I would be okay, since we're down here and the kids are up on the surface, so there's not too much to worry about. I was really getting antsy. We'd barely even touched each other... and it had been over a year since we last went to bed together with intimate intentions. I felt withdrawn and deprived. My body was constantly aching for it... it was hard to think about anything else except him. The opportunity was there for us, considering we'd begun living alone, but 30, surprisingly, was reluctant. I think he wants to, but I think because of what he saw during the birth, I think he's terrified of something going wrong again. I didn't know what to do or how to feel about, and it was beginning to affect my mood. I was afraid it would start affecting our relationship too.

Everything that happened with the baby really made me feel close to him. Safe and secure too. Things felt okay because we just shared the most special thing two people can have together. Everything was pretty okay in that department. But physically, I felt detached. I missed feeling so close to him. I was ready to go back to it. It was safe at this point. This was something we needed.

I still remember what we were wearing that day. He had on a black suit. He wore one like that each day, for the people around him believed he was mourning. He's still getting used to lying. It's was really upsetting him last week, but he remembered why he was doing this.
I had on a short tank top and a long skirt, both pieces being black. The scar in my stomach was clearly visible. I wasn't exposing myself in hopes to send a message, it was actually just really hot underground, and my clothes felt especially soft. Despite the pressure of asking, as well as the heat, I felt really confident that day.

I remember how he stood, back to me, taking off his cufflinks in a quick manner so that he could cool down. He huffed and puffed about the stresses of work, and trying to hold our big lie up. I told him to relax, and he said he'd really try.

It was quiet for a few seconds.

"It's been almost two months, you know."
He just sighed.
"I do know... but you're just still so... fragile. It's not that I don't want this, it's just that I can't let anything ever happen to you again."
"I'll be okay. Everything will be alright, I swear... In truth, it's driving me nuts inside."
"Me too..."
"Well then, why don't we?"
"I'm worried. I don't want anything to hurt you. Me, a baby, some red-eyed monster, I don't care who or what it is."
"You won't hurt me. You never have, and I doubt you ever will."
I just hugged him, my left cheek pressing against the center of his back, and he stayed quiet, breathing slowly, thinking carefully.
"This sounds pathetic, but... please?" I ask. "We can just... be careful. You're stressed, I'm stressed, we need this. We can just stop if we have to."
He sighed again, and looked at himself in the mirror for a few more moments. That was when all the feelings came flooding back. He turned around with what was almost a smile on his face, but not like the way it used to be. But even that lasted only a second. 30's arms made their way around me, one hand on my back, the other grabbing tightly onto my hip. He kissed me, and not too lightly, either. I just pulled him in as tight as I could, inviting him back into the way we once were. He smiled, He picked me up as if I were his bride and he put me down on our bed gently. He looked ready, but there was such a lingering sense of worry that I could almost hear the thoughts in his head.

As we unwound ourselves, I began to wonder if my body were still the same. When I was pregnant, my senses felt so much more heightened. I felt like I could see clearer, feel deeper, and hear into rooms down the hall... My bones felt looser, and despite the pain, I felt such an odd sense of beauty within myself. I wonder if that's still there.

It felt different. Not bad, but different. I feel like I had healed, and that I was safe again. I felt emotionally stable, like nothing could ever hurt me again. All I thought about was him, and how it felt to have him so close to me again. I kept my eyes closed, just readily letting it happen. I could feel everything, something I don't think I could sense before. It was never bad, ever, but everything I felt that late afternoon was beyond anything I could remember. Optics completely shut, I could feel his gestures so specifically that I think I overwhelmed my own body. I could feel the slightest touches, and the hard pressure of his hands on me. I could clearly feel the warmth of his breath on my cheeks, and the feeling of his lips against the side of my neck. I could feel sensation so much more deeply, beyond anything I could do before. I didn't feel back to normal. I felt better than that.

We just laid together afterwards. Neither of us said much, but it was okay. I could feel the sides of my face hurt a little, just because I couldn't control my smiling, or any of my verbal expression just a few moments before. It almost felt strange to have gone back. It had been so long, I almost forgot what made it so nice.

I miss the world. There are so few things I've been able to still enjoy. So much of the things I loved are above the surface. There's so much that I've left behind. I've gone off the expected path, but I still do not believe that I'm lost.

30:

"Be careful." 24 chuckled, while he wrote equations on his chalkboard. "You guys are settling back in, but be warned... our biology tries to get us to continue."
"Continue... what, exactly?" Eh, I know the answer. I kind of just want to see if he'll say it. I'm too exhausted to really fully listen anyways, considering I'm taking care of 1.5 as well as the twins. It's a bit stressful, but I know it'll all be okay soon.
"Having children, obviously. It's this weird need to just... not stop. It's much stronger in women than in men, but still, try to keep your hands off of each other. It'll be a challenge, I'm sure."
"She's barren again." I say quietly. "There's nothing to worry about."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah, 2 told us so. She had some tests done."
24 says nothing, pondering my words, and apparently my facial expression too.
"So you two have returned to your old ways?"
"Yeah, and I couldn't be happier. I don't have to wish for anything anymore. I have my daughters. 1.5 is safe and healthy. We can just go back to what we used to be without me feeling like there's something missing."
"Good for you, then." he laughs.

We lay in our bed, without too much of a sound. 24, being the genius that he is and whatnot, was onto something - as I lay on my back, I feel such a deep need brewing in my upper abdomen. I firmly believe that I can control it, but yet I still feel like my soul is going to rip itself from under my skin. I breathe deeply a few times just to hope it leaves me be... but it doesn't.
"What's on your mind?" 1.5 whispers. "You seem tense."
"I am, but it's too early in the morning."
"To early to be tense? Oh, my dear, it's never too early." she jokes, shifting closer to me. My brows tense up as she moves closer.
"I'm just... feeling something too strongly for my own good. My mind and body aren't exactly cooperating."
"I think I know what's on your mind."
I lift myself up a little, so that I can look down at her expression.
"I've never felt like this. It's like there's some kind of wild, rabid animal bouncing around in my chest... raging around, trying to escape from my insides."
She pauses, and just cocks her brow at me, smiling.
"I bet you think it's only you." she mumbles. "I'm the one who had the kids here. Have you ever considered that I might be aching for this so bad that it's physically painful?"
I look at how the sheets fall over her, draping over her shape very nicely. I see the shape of her arm, and a lump at the end, shifting around a bit, trying to hold herself together.
"I... no." I lay back down. It takes me a moment to realize that though she didn't say it to me directly, it seems that we're on the same page. I just lay my head back for a moment, wondering whether I should just keep to myself, or resolve our heightened tension by just actually just carrying out what she's asking me for.
Of course, though my body is pushing me right now, I still look over at her and feel a strong love that is so tightly bound that I am fairly certain that it cannot be undone by anything in the world - no person, no vaccine, no earth-shattering event.

I roll over to look at her, then grab her waist and pull her in towards me. She sighs, and smiles without moving a muscle. I sweep my fingers under her jawline, brushing her soft hair away from her face. She looks at me for a few seconds, more mentally prepared than anything else.
I lean in and press my lips onto the side of her neck. I make my way down onto her shoulder, and as I continue she quietly whimpers with anticipation. I gently place my hand where her ribcage ends, almost as if to get a better grip on her. The kisses continue, but my fingers dance against her soft skin, and down her abdomen. They stop for just a second as they go over the scar, still making me flinch, as it's still new to me. I ignore it, going back to the more important task at hand. I let my digits continue to work downward and into the gap between her thighs. She just stares up into my eyes, waiting readily. My other hand rests on her shoulder, and I can clearly feel the tension in her muscles. I try to just begin slowly and carefully, only touching her lightly. I watch her face as she responds to me - just letting her lips separate to take a deep, shaky breath. I lean forward more to look at her, pressing my fingers against her gently, rubbing slightly. One of her arms makes its way up my back, holding on to me in hopes that we won't have to stop. Our faces get closer together, and I feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks. I close my eyes to try and keep myself collected as possible. I reopen my eyes to watch her response as we go forward carefully, keeping my composure. Her lips press hard up against mine, and as I feel this, my fingers slide up into her. She gasps, unable to do much because of the way she's partially laying under me. All she does is make this sound, and it's hard to decode what it means, exactly. She sounds pleased, and almost surprised in a way. It has this texture to it... and this wonderful timbre that just comes across as 'Oh, finally.' I can feel her body's response at the tips of my fingers. It gets warmer, and I feel a bit of tightening around the ends of my hands. I push my fingers in a little deeper, moving them in a repetitive motion, and she inhales sharply, clutching onto my back tighter. She looks like she's trying to hold any sounds in, hoping to keep herself together. She looks up at me again, eyelids shaking, brow clenched. I just take a minute to admire the way her ribs stick out of her a little when her back is arched. I leave my fingers inside of her, but keep my thumb outside for use externally. As soon as she feels this, she can no longer contain herself. Her breathing gets louder, and her voice and all her sounds just ring inside my head, making me so happy to know how bad she needs me. My whole body feels warm knowing that she's satisfied.
All of a sudden, her fingers dig even harder into my back, and before I can even process it, I feel my back hit the sheets. 1.5 is there above me, on her hands and knees. Her hair falls over her shoulders, and some of the ends tickle my face. She pulls it back, out of the way so I can see almost her full face. I look down at the scar on her abdomen, still slightly fresh. It doesn't even come close to scaring me. To know that she's alive and that I can still be with her is so empowering. To see that a woman so strong and so beautiful and durable stands above me, I feel so grateful and wonderfully inferior to her that all of these feelings I have sort of just hit me at once. As she kneels, and her shadow falls over me, I just grab her shoulders, pulling her in to just kiss her for as long as I can keep her there. I hope I don't kill the mood, I just need her.
We stay that way for probably 10 seconds or so, and then I feel her get tense again. She lets me go, breathing heavy.
"Oh, I can't any longer!" she hisses. "I need you!"
She straddles me, and pulls her hair back over her shoulders so that it doesn't get in our way. I'd recommend to her that she tie it back, but then I think about it and realize that it just wouldn't be the same. She pulls her fastenings open almost violently, as she tries to breathe. I can feel how warm she is against my hips, and that's when I feel my eyes just fixate on her face. Everything starts to feel deep, but it doesn't go all the way. A part of me is in shock from her behavior (enough to where I think I feel a proud, rather goofy smile of my face) - she's so... desperate for me. I've seen her beg for it before, and in fact, it's something I really enjoy. It makes me feel really confident about myself. I've seen her lay on her back, legs open, just so hardly anticipating for stimulation. I've heard her cries, and her pleads not to stop... but this, oh, this... this is new. She's gotten to the point where she's literally stopped me in my tracks to get to where she wants us to be. I almost feel blessed by some god, if any, that she needs me this bad. It just feels so... good. As she bends herself on top of me, I just put my head back, with full confidence, and just relax. This is great.
She frantically undoes my fastenings and adjusts herself on top of me. She places her hands firmly on my chest, and slides down onto me. I watch her eyes as the sensation slithers up her body. She tries to sigh, but she just moans, with this heavy, fierce texture to her voice. I've never even heard her like this before... usually her sounds are so much softer and clear... but this time, she breathes heavy and hoarsely, frenzied on getting her orgasm. She lets herself all the way down, just absorbing all the feelings it brings to her. She grinds her hips up against me working slowly at first, trying to maintain a pace. She breathes hard, riding furiously on top of me, at such a fierce rhythm and with horrible, necessary desire. I cannot read her eyes at such a time, for she almost seems to have gone mindless in the midst of this overheated affair. I grab ahold of her hips, feeling my palms against her velvety skin, but she just shoots me a look and just asks me to let her do this...
She works as fast as she can, trying so hard to keep her breathing going at the same pace as her body. She throws her head back as she holds on for just a bit longer. At last, I see her choke on her breath, and I can nearly feel her insides melting when the tension releases, as she cries out in complete ecstasy and satisfaction. Her eyes roll up, and her fists clench as her mind blows up on the inside of her head. Her legs shake as her voice echoes through the underground, and then it's over. She sighs, out of breath, and collapses on top of me, with a tired, contentedly overwhelmed smile on her face. She just lays there without any sound except her breathing, for a few minutes or so.
That was even satisfying for me, and I didn't even hit the end or anything. She looks at me, realizing this. Though tired, she smiles at me, rolling off of me and onto her back.
"Here." she says. "I've had it my way. It would be wrong to not let you feel like this too. I can still do this, I have the energy."
"You don't have to."
"30, I want to. I want you to feel this good."
We just exchange approving glances, and I move back to the way we were at the beginning - almost fully on top of her, but not entirely. She tells me that it's alright, and I position myself properly. I look down into her eyes, shrouded in a dreamy gaze. I hold onto her side, and it's then that I realize that in this idea of newness, the two of us have barely changed a bit - and if we have, it would be a lie to say that it wasn't for the better.

1.5:

This was my choice. This is who I am now.

I could just go on and on and on but I've regretted the decision I made every single day since I got down here. I know I've said it before and I will say it again. I wish I could just take it all back.

My life has become so plain and simple that I wish I liked change. I've trapped myself, and the only way out is just so hard. I lied to so many people. I broke their hearts because I made the ridiculous decision that staying underground for the rest of my life would be easier than coming clean. I wish I could just admit to them that I was struggling because I was expecting a child. I just had so much on my mind, and I had no idea what to do. I lied to the people I promised to protect, and then to make things worse, I abandoned them. I left them all behind without answers because it had been such a rough sixteen hours.

When I first got down here, I just stayed in bed. I rested for fourteen hours at a time, from 8 PM to 10 AM, still sitting up in bed even when those hours were up. My arm was hooked up to an IV, giving me pain medicine and helping me get the blood I needed back.
After a month I was able to get out of bed and sit on the couch and whatnot. I wouldn't be able to walk that much, the only occasion in which I did was when 30 snuck me down here. My legs were killing me after, and the scar on my abdomen too. When I was able to sit around, I came to the realization that I'm actually a shut-in now. I stay inside all day while my boyfriend is at work, and only rarely do I ever go out. If I do, it's at night, like at 1 or 2 in the morning. Otherwise, I'm just here. So then I just decided that I had to find a hobby to keep myself from going insane now. God, this was a bad idea.

I knit and I sew. I knit so much. 10 came down all the time and gave me loads of her extra fabric. So, with a growing pain in my heart, I did the one thing I could think of to contact my kids - make them clothes and have 30 deliver them as they grow up. I tried to knit them baby clothes in plenty of different colors. I knew when they were babies they didn't really know who I was or what happened to me, but I just hope the gifts gave them I sense that I care and that I'm not fully gone, I suppose you could say.

Sometimes I still sew a variety of items and give them to 30, so he can say he found them and hand them over to the twins. Sometimes they ask questions about me but he just answers them simply. Sometimes I still think that 30 worries that we're danger. I love him till the end of time, but after everything that happened three years ago he's just never been the same. He's so bent on keeping me safe that he puts it above logic sometimes. I'm very afraid of the lengths he might go to in order to protect me. I do not doubt that he'd put me above his life if he ever had to.
I hate thinking like that. I don't ever want to lose him. I believe that if something bad were to happen we should fight together like we always have. I'm not weak, and I know that's not what he worries about. Maybe we'll talk about it someday.

Three years passed ridiculously quick, and I've tried to re-normalize as much as I possibly can. I'm just stretching my back in the bedroom when 30 comes home, already talking about the twins is soon as he knows I'm awake. It's so good to hear about them, but it gives me aches in my chest because of how badly I miss them. 30's told me so much about what they're like, and I just want to meet them so bad. I just wish I could give them both hugs and tell them that everything's going to be okay. I wish they didn't have to suffer. It's all my fault. They don't know the real story, and I hope they find out someday. They don't deserve to be hurt. The deserve to know the truth. I hurt my own children when they were just hours old. I left them behind. They've only ever seen me once.

Oh, god... what kind of a mother am I?

Sometimes when I'm alone I think about it too much and I cry a lot. How did this ever happen? No one on this earth could have envisioned what the future would be like and came to see this. I know that I separated myself from the twins because I figured it was for their own good... but I feel so guilty. I feel like a huge part of who I am has been removed. Why did I ever do this? I didn't think it'd ever feel like this.

I am 1.5. I've separated myself from my entire world. I left my friends behind. I abandoned the settlement that I made a vow to keep safe. Out of my own selfishness, I left my significant other with our children, only ever taking care of them for about a day. I left everything behind in hopes to feel better, when (with a few exceptions) the way I feel inside now is the worst I've felt in my entire life. I've hurt everyone, and I have barely anything now. I'm alone. But this was my choice. This is who I am now.

45:

20 comes running in the room, shouting and losing her cool, flinging her arms around as she scampers in. I'm in a pretty mellow mood, so her yelling is messing me up a little bit.

"45! 45! I found something! It's important, come look!"
I get up off the couch, out of my half-laying position.
"Damn it, what's going on?"
"It's important! I found a picture of MOM!"
"Oh shit, let me see it!" I sit up, actually interested in what
"Look!" she unrolls it quickly and spreads it out on the table in front of the couch. It's a pretty big picture - about the size of a small poster.
I look at it closely. There's mom, in color and everything. White hair, grey fabric just like us. I'm really quiet for a minute because I'm taken back from seeing her in color, laid out so close to me. My shoulders get kind of numb, and I feel like I need to cry. Something about her just seems so perfectly hurt, even though she's smiling in the picture. She stands turned about three quarters of the way, tall and proud. Her hair falls nicely over her shoulders and keeps going until it reaches her hipline. One of her eyes is covered by her hair, presumably because it got destroyed in a fight way back in the day. I wonder how she managed to do that. She wears a black shawl covering her body, ending at her calves, and smack in the middle of that shawl is us. She's got a pretty good size baby bump, and she has her hands holding the dress just so you can see the size of it. I don't know how to react. I'm ridiculously happy to have seen this photo... but mom's not here, and we're the reason for it. She was beautiful and she was smiling big in the picture, but she's gone. I can't imagine what she was thinking or what she was looking forward to. It makes me just want to cry about it for a few hours. I know I don't seem like a very soft person to my friends. They all think I'm pretty tough and that I don't have a lot of feelings, but when it comes to mom, I really do. I never even met her but the thought of not having her really upsets me. The thought that she's dead just makes me want to hide. I just wish there was something different, or something I could have done. And there's so much mystery surrounding her too. I just wish I knew what she was like... I know 20's the genius who's figuring everything out, but I just want to know. I wish we could just find out without this damn cloud of confusion surrounding her. I wish I could just see her for her.

My dad is an entirely different story. We don't know a thing about him... he could be anybody. I don't even want to get into all the possibilities... but if we ever find him, I'm going to find out the truth.

"I talked to 30 a little while ago, and I got some information out of him. It was... stupid, but I suppose it's helpful."
"Oh jeez, what did he say?"
"He stopped in the library a little while before I found the picture. I told him what I was doing and we starting talking about mom, and he kind mentioned that mom getting pregnant with us was sort of intended to be a... going away gift... to whoever our dad is."
"Oh. Well, shit." I stretch my shoulders out. "I uh, I'm kinda starting to get the feeling that mom slept around a little bit because she could - well, I mean, before karma got her, of course. You getting that feeling too?"
"Eh, here and there. I still have faith in her, though." 20 laughs a little. "But hey, that might be a really big help for us. It'll help us space out what happened while mom was carrying us, and of course give us a general conception date. If we know anyone who knew her who was born around that time, we could have an answer."
She starts rolling the picture back up, when I notice an orange smudge in the back of the paper.
"20, hold up." I put my hand on the paper. "What's that?"
"Oh, goodness, I thought it was just a smudge!"
"What's it say?"
We both lean in closer, squinting to try and make out the scribbles.
"I-it says... 1.5... seven months. January nineteenth, year three."
"So, someone took this picture of her on her birthday."
"Yeah but..." 20 pauses, looking really unsure, and as if something just clicked in her head. "I'm... confused. Something doesn't add up here."
Then I think I get it too. How could she be showing that much if the picture was taken in January, but we were born in August?"
"Yeah, you're onto something." I tell her.
"Wait... so, if it if takes nine months to have a baby, and we were born in the eighth month of the year, then she should have gotten pregnant with us sometime in early December. But... if what 30 said is true, then that doesn't make any sense. Based on the date on this thing, she could about seven weeks at most. I mean, look at her - look at that bump! I mean, it's not super huge or anything, but there's no way anyone could be that big at seven weeks, even including the factor of us being twins. This is... this really strange."
"Maybe mom wasn't normal."
"Well, she clearly wasn't, but... what do you mean?"
"I mean like maybe she was pregnant with us for more than nine months."
20 gets up and then just kind of stops.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe something happened... or..."
I stop listening to 20 because I think we need to take this a little bit at a time. I want to find out but I think overwhelming ourselves is only going to be bad for our mental heath. Thinking about this as much as we do is getting exhausting. I'm so ready to know the truth, but I feel like there's still so much that we can't know right now. What I do know for certain is that we have a long road ahead of us.

TO BE CONTINUED