Since a couple of days, I’ve been waking up in random positions or locations.

Once, my limbs were knotted together in a ball; this contortion was maddening for long seconds; painful, too.

There was a time, maybe yesterday or the morning before it, when my eyes creaked open to a scarlet red celling, whose surface peeled off a dry powder.

It concerned me, as mine was a dull gray, tattooed deep on my pupils. This sight, including the faint smell of mint spread in the room, however, was foreign; a splendid way indeed to rewire my brain.

As worry bit on my skin like poisonous vines, I recalled a detail, the missing puzzle piece.

The twins, Mae and Mia, had an uncanny addiction towards mint scents of all kinds; thus, they would spray the aroma in their flat’s every corner. Upon having this thought, traces of worry vanished, as a faraway memory would.

I slept in the twins’ spare room. Anxiety turned into peace of mind. The situation was a perfect as one could be; I loved them, after all.

A freezing breeze struck my cheek, irking enough to force a sharp upward gesture from my body. By tiptoeing, I leaned closer toward an open window, placed in the center of a scarlet red wall.

Yes, everywhere was red; they had to become accustomed at some point. I did. Or perhaps the color was personal preference. Anyhow, I found it endearing.

My fingers tips pushed the glass until a clicking sound ensued, and the cold disappeared. I sighed in relief, then turned around in anticipation of the silk blanket, a sanctuary of warmth.

Only when my eyes fell on the cloth did I shudder at the blunder. Tossed in three layers of uneven thickness, the blanket formed a cluster of mess.

It was an expected, familiar outcome for my rash gestures; a mondain mistake, now enough to cause a panic attack.

All the symptoms came rushing in, a repulsive shot of adrenaline. I spat on the immaculate floor, feeling my heart bursting and tightening at an erratic cadence.

Like a metal pipe had broken my head, stress made me dizzy, shook my orientation sideways; a simulated car crash, tumbling down a busy highway.

I limped – crawled – to the bed’s edge, covered by a thin silk cover kissing the dirty ground. It couldn’t happen; I had to stop it no matter the cost.

As noises of rubbing clothes filled the room, fumbling the blanket in rough hand gestures returned it to its dainty state after two minutes of twisting and pulling the cloth apart.

A hand on my chest, my frozen breaths stabilized, so did my hiccups. I shed an embarrassing tear, as a tiny price for saving my relationships.

Having resolved the emergency, I glanced around the room, ogling any useful details of use, a clue into the twins’ personalities, perhaps.

All I got, however, was nothing short of a barren landscape. An empty, dust-free red world, without a trace of personality.

There was a bed, that much was evident; a thick door made of pine wood, too. That was the extend of it, eerie and lonely.

‘How weird.’ was the extend of my reaction. A cute and quirky trait of the twins; this meaning backed up the uneasy atmosphere; therefore, everything was fine and well.

After a mute creak, the door opened to a gaping hole; despite her height, Mae filled the center frame of an eye-drawing presence, as she wore a white hoodie above jet-black stockings and short.

I got startled by her outfit change, then resumed a neutral stance upon much needed introspection; a second’s worth of time.

The sister’s black hair was a pendulum, waving back and forth on her pale cheeks, nose and chin; even the eyes were a target.

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Not in the mood for a bargain with the wind, Mae pulled a blue knot out of her pocket, clasping the dark mass in one, coherent chunk out of the neck’s way.

Her lips raised in a know-it-all smile, she spoke.

“Hey. Did you have a good sleep?”

I straightened my back, loosened my facial muscles, before coughing once as a ploy to clear my husky voice.

“Hmm, good, I guess? Thanks to you.” While scavenging for the most effective string of words, my half-woken brain found a passing answer; or so the grin on Mae’s face told me.

A glimpse over my shoulder at the neatly folded red blanket, she nodded in satisfaction, which made me sigh in relief.

“Well?”, she titled her head sideways.

“Nothing. I’m hungry.”

Actually, that was the truth. Or a convenient excuse, I suppose.

We walked out the room in line, more due to my sluggish gait than a subtle display of submission.

Outside, then a sharp turn left into a narrow corridor, painted red matter-of-factly. I’d memorized their flat’s bland layout since my first visit.

On both side walls, two doors, one of black steel, the other of white, puffed cotton, embellished the monochrome sight to a laughable, though discernable layer.

The twins’ rooms. I threw away my prying curiosity long ago.

Mae held her lips sealed for the short walk; even her breaths were faint; whispers. This aloof, nonchalant behavior of hers; an undecipherable puzzle box I’d yet to burst open, was an exhibit of charm; it made me fall for her.

At the corridor’s edge was the living room, a perfect circle decorated with two sofas, facing each other, and an old-fashion TV. Whereas I thought of this setup as the bare minimum for survival, the twins treated it like a luxury; or cared little, one or the other.

In wide strokes, Mae leaned towards the kitchen, hidden in a spare room to the left. To my astonishment, they’d painted it white, with stripes of red cutting though.

“The usual?”, she inquired with a yawn.

“Yes, please.”

Three days were enough for this exchange to not feel unnatural, but rather, a warm conversation. I couldn’t tell if it was the twins’ overly touchy demeanor, or a side-effect of love.

A minute passed, one where I had nothing better to do than redden my vision by glancing around. Mae’s hums escaped from the kitchen into my ears, then my brain, providing me with a shot of happiness; the best of morning gifts.

Seeing her walk out, two plate balanced on one arm, the same number of cups on the other, convinced me that it was the taste of genuine happiness.

Mae deposited the first plate on my knees; a golden toasted bun coated with strawberry jam; alongside a glass of orange juice.

She sat next to me with an identical position and breakfast, before taking a bite; not too big nor small. I did the same.

A savory blend of a soft, yet crisp texture, and a sweet flavor, made for a satisfying experience; solidifying its position as my go-to breakfast.

I let out a moan of approval, with gibberish nonsense in between my tongue and teeth.

“Is it really that good?” Mae grinned in pride.

“It is. Better than my usual, you see.” An honest reply.

She furrowed her brows. “Sounds like you are better at flattery than cooking?

“Maybe.”

Something stroke my thigh, covered by a thin fabric; Mae had nudged herself closer to me. In careful and deliberate motions, she slid her fingertips across my cheek, down to my neck. It tickled.

An intense gaze peered at my own, attempting to devour me; I let go of any resistance.

Mae licked her lips, twice, before opening them. “I love you.”

I wanted to hear these words; they were a mean to confirm my delusional feelings.

“I love you too.”

My answer was natural, like an evidence, but it made her frown; more acutely, holding back a laugh.

“Have you ever thought about why you did?”

She pinched my skin, before letting it go. The room folded on itself like a sheet of paper, then resumed its flat state.

I recognized this pain. A throbbing headache, the weight of the world on my spine and against my skull. My skin turned greasy from multiple layers of accumulated sweat; a disgusting smell and irking spots all over my body.

There was nothing to be done, except praying. I lacked a core piece of my being, cluttered somewhere in reality.

“Do you need help?”

Side to side, looking at me from an upward stance, were the twins. Their upper body emitted a glistering white light; I interpreted as so.

Mia, dressed in her usual color scheme – contrasting forces of black and white – snapped her pinky and thumb together in an inaudible rub.

I knew this world. A boundless field of five-petal blue flowers, dancing to a perfectly orchestrated rhythm; the wind’s. Under the white sky, the twins’ skin, tinted the same, blended in the foreground.

They were naked, grinning at me, their indexes pointed towards me in mockery; a strange, yet normal occurrence.

As Mia, followed by her sister, began to dance, a surge of bliss filled my being, like a bewitching drug. Reality twisted on itself in spirals, again, then, again, until a dozen formed a maddening mural.

A spark, or a thunderbolt. It stroke a part of my brain, pieced together a forgotten memory.

This exact setup; it had happened thrice in a row. I would forget about all of it, drowned by the pleasure.

Like a genius streak of coordinated events, they enfolded in this order.

To cleanse this pain, my fist knocked on my right neighbor, a door full of red paint.

Then, two gorgeous girls led me inside, to a man-made heaven; after two of three loops, I suspected their identity to be closer to a goddess’.

While stuck in the sea of happiness, this realization hit me, not quite hard enough to knock me out, nor let me enjoy myself worry-free.

My heart tightened, as it would in front of the twins, though now in another illogical meaning.

I was sorrowful at first. Then, pleasure snuggled inside my skin and muscles, turning this awful moment into the best of my life.

However, sadness crawled its way in. A cycle of insanity. I thought my mind was breaking – an imminent death.

Here, I chose my words poorly. Thinking of such a grim topic, whilst riding on the hurricane of joy was an eerie and impossible contradiction.

Yet, it was happening; my emotions withered away.

I wanted to hold on to them for longer; not a large request, a fleeting moment, instant or second.

In the end, numbness transformed me into a doll. An average looking and stiff beige-skinned puppet.

Everything lost their meaning, none made sense anymore. Maybe, they didn’t hold any at all from the start.

Then, when the twins finished their heavenly, dainty dance, twisting reality on a whim, the world was painted black.

Hugging my knees in a dark room – my narrow kitchen –, it took me a long second to realize I’d hadn’t lost consciousness. Simply, there wasn’t a light source in the frozen room.

I felt grateful to be at home, to be free from my thoughts. A sleep was needed – no, required; tomorrow would be morning.

No words, nor screams, but a tear. A single one wet my cheek, slid to the ground. Once, then I’d fall on the floor like a slug.

My hand covered my mouth, from which a sound of wailing tried to escape – if it did, I’d shatter.

Then, a water curtain blurred my vision, until a fog made it opaque.

I touched the damp wooden floor. My eyes began soaking it.

The sleepless night couldn’t dry nor muffle the cries.