A Scorpio stung by a poisonous scorpion.
A Sagittarius shot through the heart with an arrow.
A Taurus stabbed through the toros with a set of horns.
Twenty20 / ihatedust
(Not from a live bull, but from a wall-mounted head.)
By
Updated 3 years ago,April 14, 2022
I always considered astrology bullshit.
Just for kicks, you know?
For the hell of it.
My twin sister, on the other hand, lived and breathed astrology.
She followed star patterns and created birth charts and complained every time Mercury went into retrograde.
Twenty20 / ihatedust
She knew everyones zodiac signs as well as she knew their names.
Sorry, she said.
That girl was an Pisces.
Its just weird she died that way, is all.
But when the next victim died only two days later, she stopped laughing and started making phone calls.
To the school newspaper.
To a string of people who hung up and called her crazy.
We lost touch over the last four years, but still…
The girl was the definition ofsweetheart.
She worked at the zoo a few miles away, feeding the animals.
She owned three cats and two dogs.
The bang out of girl who preferred pets to people.
And the poor thing got attacked by a lion.
Mauled to death by an animal she helped name.
And her star sign?
Over the next three weeks, the murders continued across our town.
That zodiacs had something to do with it.
A Scorpio stung by a poisonous scorpion.
A Sagittarius shot through the heart with an arrow.
A Taurus stabbed through the toros with a set of horns.
(Not from a live bull, but from a wall-mounted head.)
Her obsession jumped from astrology in general to theAstroKiller.
I took notice, of course.
I loved my sister, but I read thrillers likeGone GirlandBefore I Go To SleepandThe Girl On The Train.
Besides, if any of her astrology shit was true, Gemini like us were inconsistent.
So when the next death occurred, a more creative one this time, I did my research.
Looked up the time of the incident.
Tried to remember whether my sister had been home or out during that exact minute.
If she had an alibi or not.
Did you hear yet?
she asked as she burst through our bedroom door, and I clicked away from the article.
He killed a Cancer this time.
These murders are getting more and more fucked up.
That she was excited, or at least impressed, by the killers (or her own?)
His heart still ceased to beat.
I wonder what sign the killer is, my sister said, her mouth twitching to stop a smirk.
I wonder if its the same as us.
One week of silence.
One week where the papers calmed the public by saying the killer must have given up, run away.
We found out the answer in the middle of a bar, celebrating a mutual friends birthday.
My sisters phone beeped with a news story and she put down her martini to read it.
Someone sliced off a womans stomach and she bled to death.
She kept sipping from her drink, but my sister and I called it a night.
Stumbled back outside to wait for our Uber.
I dont remember the car pulling up to the sidewalk.
I dont remember swinging the door open and stuffing myself inside.
All I remember is a blankness.
Someone must have slipped something into my drink.
I slapped her awake, the ring on my index finger leaving a slash across her chin.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
she asked, swiping away the blood.
Now fully awake, her eyes swept across the room.
At the mildewed walls.
At the termite eaten floors.
My sister didnt bring me here.
Of course she didnt.
She was knocked out with me.
Her laughter cut off my thoughts.
Thats clever, she said.
Yeah, it is, thats smart.
Her eyes glittered with tears and I hated myself for thinking the worst of her.
For thinking my best friend could pull off something so sick.
For thinkingGemini are unpredictable, untrustworthy.That described me more than it described her.
Hey, I mean, we were born together.
Might as well die together, I tried to joke.
I couldnt let her see me break down.
I couldnt fall apart in front of her.
I dont think so…
Her eyes stuck to my chest.
When my pupils flicked down, I noticed she had one, too.
Or else I kill you both.
It took the words a second to register.
Because the person doing the shooting couldnt leave.
Only the other one could.
She climbed over me, feet pressed against my stomach and propelling off my thighs.
I yanked my ankle out of the hole as I watched her bolt for the table.
I skidded across the room as I watched her lift the gun.
I grabbed her by the shirtsleeve as I watched her fumble with the saftey.
I kicked her in the knee and she dropped to the ground, the weapon skittering across the floor.
I kicked at her.
She clawed at me.
Caught in a fight to end our own lives.
A fight to die.
I couldnt save her.
I never saw the bullet, but once my vision unclouded, I saw the hole it made.
Straight through the roof of my twin sisters mouth.
I shoved the gun against my hummingbird heart and pulled the trigger, but no bullets flew out.
None left for me.
I found the strength to stand.
To wander into the moonlight and wave down the police, already on their way thanks to the gunshots.
They think I could be involved.
They think I could be the killer.
The most important is that my sister was only number eight.
Eight out of twelve.
If youre an Aries, Virgo, Aquarius, or Capricorn, be careful.
Because its not over yet.
Theres still four more of you to go.
