Prologue

You may wonder why I write this confession and put it out for the world to see. You may also believe that I harbor some sinister desire that my beautiful younger sister and I be condemned for our actions or simply find some sympathy amongst the world's readers. Somehow, the thought that we need forgiveness and despite the horrid life we were forced to accept, that we were somehow immoral in our ultimate decisions is not open for debate. This would be a wrong assumption because frankly, I do not give a damn about what others think when it comes to my relationship with my sister. I do not care what morality that a person holds nor do I care what spiritual mythology that is followed and least of all, I am not interested in any condemnation that may follow.

My sweet nymph of a sister holds a tenderness that I do not possess. There was no one that was actively involved in our salvation. It was simply our personal hell that was our lives and existence. The fact was that no one seemed to care about the torture that we faced in our lives. As such, we owe nothing but to ourselves. We, together, screamed for help that did not come. No other was there for my sweet child of a sister as she faced abuse. Only I was and still am as she was and is there for me. I do not care so much what was done to me; only the tears that my dear sibling shed time after time again were pure acid dissolving my very heart. I fought with all that exists in me to hold my vow to my darling child sister. Mind you my dear reader, both my sister and I believe in God, a merciful and loving Creator who in His wisdom brought us together forever. We are profoundly happy together and we share our love with all God's creatures and ones in need. We carry no guilt for our love and dream only of a better tomorrow.

This is a story of pain, love, and survival and ultimately, a union between two like souls that have found a way to be tremendously happy together as only an older brother who is absolutely devoted to his living angel of a sister could be. We share bonds that cannot be replicated with any other human being. That of love on so many levels that no one that has not been there in the pits of battle or the blackness of desolation can completely understand. It is a story of love that transcended a brother's love for his sister and hers for him, a love of two best friends, a love in the face of turmoil and despair, an erotic love, and a love of two people who bonded at such a deep level that they share the same soul. Yes, my little sister is my lover, friend, confidant, my soul-mate, one who shares my past, present, and for all the years we have left, our future.

So much conflict in our hearts has existed in my sister and me. Not a skirmish between the love that possessed us but the agonizing destruction that rained upon her sweet and gentle ambiance. She has always believed in a Higher Power, a God, and a Spirit that cares for us no matter what the horror that is inflicted upon us. I do not necessarily share my sweet sister's viewpoint completely but I have to wonder of the existence of her soul, if perhaps worthiness is the exclusive ticket to heaven, then that transcendental channel has been uniquely passed onto my sister and others like her. As earlier stated, I at least operate out of a hope in a Glorified Entity that honestly, I do not understand but am willing to accept. Without my sweet child of a younger sister, I would already be dead leaving waste and destruction in my wake.

Of course, if Sissy is right, which she usually is, coupled with the intelligence that she possesses not to mention a deep abiding faith, I think that there would be better than a fair chance of a face to face with St. Michael and the arguments that would ensue, particularly from my sister, would mean that I had a reasonable chance of actually entering Eternity even if it meant the best I could do was mop Heaven's floors. I would gladly swill out toilets forever if so that my sweet child would never have to listen to crappy albums while being damned to sleep with old 70's porn stars. I would fondly embrace my eternal suffering, especially, if it is simply being a shit collector of angelic poo while knowing my sister was safe and happy. In the event I do a good job in my otherworldly existence, I have to believe that the reward is making love to my sister and an eternity with my beloved. The labor I must perform as a penance to be with my angel is easily something I can accept. Like I said, eternal salvation is my sweet little angel's beliefs. I think that at times there is nothing but oblivion and extinction but honestly, I hope I am wrong. My faith tends to return anytime I am within earshot of my sweet baby girl. My little sister would risk eternal fire than ever leave her brother for a minute despite the fact that I have killed. Yes, I have killed. The nightmare of that day will haunt me forever.

My dear sister asked me to write our story with her blessings in hopes that it will reach the few who have wondered if they are alone in their affections for one another and as a cathartic exercise for me. At first, I was hesitant but as with all things with my sister, I just cannot deny my sweet sibling. It is my sister's wish that we, as one voice, collectively stand against evil in this world and allow love to triumph in its many differing aspects. Our story is set in a timeframe that already has happened for the two of us. Although time slowly marches on changing the hopes, aspirations, and dreams for most while revealing their individual follies, our lives are locked in time, our love unchanging, when our love finally was realized and we became as one.

Ashley is three years younger than I. Today, I am 28 and she is 25. Yet, we have shared all of her 25 years together being inseparable from time that she was born. A quarter of a century of love shared between two people with the hopes that the both of us will have an eternity more together. I have come to believe that my first three years of life were spent simply waiting for her spirit to manifest itself on Earth, and if not, then there is still something unexplainable that I do not as yet understand. Her influence over my belief system is more than profound. I am the first-born and I have to wonder despite my doubts if our love did not start in the hands of Providence long before we adopted these mortal coils we wear today. I do know that I absolutely do not have any earlier memories, that my entire being came into existence, my acceptance of linear time and history started the day my muse, my reason to exist, came into being with her birth. I have never been with another woman, nor do I wish to be, for I have already found the one who has captured my heart as I hers with a contentment that few understand.

To describe Ashley today is to describe a wonderfully radiant and beautiful woman. When she enters a room, the air becomes fragrant with her unique scent that belies her seductive nature, the ambient light seems to become softer, the music of the day more enchanting, and she causes others to reach out with the gentle stirrings of their own souls. Her humor and smile are incredibly infectious as is her kindness. She causes all that come in contact with her to somehow desire to be better people and she passes that lovely attribute onto others. Despite the torrid events of her life, she neither condemns nor passes judgment even though it would be understandable if she did. She carries no hatred, no animosity, no evil thought in her heart. My sweet darling baby of a sister has an evolved sense of love that only sees and hears a sweet song in the wind. Her love for me, she describes as a man and woman separated by an ocean and yet both hear the music of each other's soul driving inexplicably closer, that the waves of the waters are willed by the fury of love's young heart. My dear little girl sleeps every night in our bed and while horror tried to rip us apart, her very own belief in our existence, our love, no matter the strains and tribulations of malevolent intent would never keep us apart. I love my sweet baby sister more than life itself.

Ashley is 5'6" tall with golden hair the color of the burning sun, of ripened wheat, of corn silk, of a wavelength of gold that I struggle to describe. It reaches in gentle waves to the middle of her erect back achingly teasing me to run my fingers through it countless times a day. Her eyes are pools that reflect not only her soul but others that see themselves in the way that she sees them. A blue so deep and rich that I have never seen it manifested in another person or even nature itself. It is her blue; owned and defined by her alone. No matter how many countless times I have stared into those eyes, I never tire from the wonderment that it causes me. I am lifted on a cloud and lost in the swirling blue depths of her light.

She is probably the most intelligent person that I have ever met and because of this incredible gift, this magnificent ability that she possesses, she may have very well saved both of our lives. My kid sister is slender, athletic with perky breasts that represent years of physical activity. An athlete of talent that engaged in sports from soccer to gymnastics to swimming to track, it was her personal avenue of escape from abuse for a few short hours each day and my opportunity to be absolutely sure that none reached out to harm her.

Her sweet breasts, such a lovely visage, are not huge by any imagination, but firm with nipples that reach out slightly upwards and aureoles the size of half dollars inviting me to caress, nibble, and suck each one as she moans from sheer delight from the sensations that reach her. She has a perpetual tan, almost olive skin, without flaw, no scar or deformity which I find utterly incomprehensible due to the assaults upon her. Her hands are slender and soft with long fingers and meticulously manicured nails. Clear, without polishes, they are radiant in their own right. From her slender sides and the gentle curve of her hips, down her feminine and extraordinarily strong legs to her small feet that will drive her crazy with lust when a kiss is placed upon them, my little sister is a figure of true natural beauty. From her throat emanates her personal melody, a voice so magnificent in its softness and personal musical note that is distinctive only to her. It captures my full rapt attention any time I am so honored to hear her. I never tire from hearing her song. It is absolutely amazing that this swan of love is so full of happiness, love, compassion, and desire that when I think about the time of tears and grief that befell her, I am at a total loss.

As I said before, I am not concerned with what happened to me, only with my wonderful sibling who is life in itself to me. To take a gift such as my loving sister, whose beauty and wonderful smile already established itself at birth, to mistreat such an angel on earth, to force such a love as hers into pain, grief, and tears was a sin in itself. To live with a broken heart daily as the mistreatment compounded itself was a personal torture not only for my younger golden girl but it slowly caused my own descent into hell from which we both fought back to claim our lives as lovers and conquerors of adversity. Tears come to my eyes when my mind touches the emotions of the past as well as the happiness I feel today. Even in the darkest of hours, our love for each other granted respite and hope. Our hands intertwined forever from our earliest youth promising each other to never let go. Yes, I love my innocent little sister and will stand against the fury of Hades itself to protect her. She is mine now and forever, I lay claim to her. I became hers the moment she breathed her very first breath.

Chapter I - A Little Angel is Born

Like I mentioned, my earliest memories revolve around Ashley upon her birth. It seemed that nothing existed before, just surreal grey. I have no conscious understanding of anything beforehand, so it would not be incorrect to believe that I came into being the same day, the same incomprehensibly delightful day in early June that my sister took her very first breath. Events and the passage of time began on June 12th at 7:36 AM in the morning for the both of us. I wear a little golden pendant today around my neck to represent the aura of her shining tresses with the numbers 736 engraved on it. At 7:37 AM, we existed together as love being defined moving through time. Our personal clocks moved forward and we both became aware of the tick-tock of each second as time slid forward propelling us into destiny. I suppose it does sound a bit poetic but when it comes to my little sister, she is truly artistry in motion.

Likewise for many, the descent into hell is a journey that does not start with the very first minute of life but gradually degrades itself over time until a person realizes that they can give voice to the pain. As was the case for my dear Ashley, the day of her birth was cause for celebration. The moment I came into her presence something forever changed in me, the big brother of only three, that my little baby would be mine to protect and nurture, to define the limits of friendship between two people, to always know that a bond between a brother and sister that cannot be quite comprehended by inconsequential words but through the understanding of emotion and spirit. To see her now and know that I have an uninterrupted 25 years shared with this lovely woman who from the very second of her birth would define who we were and what we were to become.

My father brought me into my mother's room at the hospital. I was afraid at first, not because of my little girl, but because everything was glowing fluorescent in the hospital, the smell of sanitized floors, of walls whose tiles were the color of green scrubs, the stainless steel racks holding all manner of supplies, from bed sheets to gauze, the rush of doctors and nurses making the way through the corridors of St. Mary's to the sheer size of people and structures were overwhelming to my senses as a small child. My father holding my little hand smiling at my mother and of the work that the two of them brought together to form their daughter and my sister. We walked slowly to the edge of my mother's bed and it was then that I noticed the tiny little bundle that she held. I could not quite make out what, I knew it was my sister, excitement and a host of new emotions flooded through me. Anticipation, anxiety, and admiration coursed through the ethereal substance of my soul that gave voice to my growing exhilaration that here, in my mother's arms, was my baby sister and I was her big brother.

Big Brother. I liked how that sounded to my child's ears. My father whispered that into my ear as he approached my mother and his daughter with me for the very first time. Big brother to my little sister. A smile broke out upon my face and a tear slowly wound its way down my cheek as I gazed upon my dear little girl for the very first time. She mewled a little; sensing a presence that was different from all the noise, lights, pain, and harshness the insult of birth is upon a little angel coming into the world for the very first time. Years later, when she was five, she told me about a dream that she had when she was born, an actual first memory, of knowing that her guardian brother awaited her arrival and would be her personal possession forever; never leaving her side. I simply smiled, gathered my little sister in my arms, and held her close like I always do, kissing her cheeks, forehead, and gently brushing my lips upon the softness of her own. Looking deeply into those mesmerizing blue eyes feeling myself washed away and simultaneously captured by her very essence.

I looked upon this sweet gift from God, my little sister, and she struggled mightily to turn her head towards me. My mother, smiling with deep affection despite the obvious exhaustion of carrying my precious tiny sister for nine months and the hours of agony forcing this little girl into world, said with a gleam in her eye, "Dear little Ashley, my sweet daughter, here is your brother that has come to gaze upon you and give his love to you this day forth and forever as all brothers do." Little did my mother know how prophetic those words would ultimately become.

I leaned forward, still in the throes of nervousness and excitement, and looked at my little cherub. She opened her eyes a little then, I could already see the blueness in her eyes, and she did something I have never seen another baby do that early in life. She smiled. My little infant of a sister smiled at me and despite not having any muscle control over her body, managed to reach a little in my direction. I was overcome with affection towards my baby sister that tears flowed freely down my cheeks and I promised her right then and there, in front of both my mother and father, that I would be the best big brother in the entire world. I believe that I have kept that promise; at least, that is what Ashley tells me every day. I tentatively reached out to her tiny hands looking at my mother's eyes and receiving a nod of approval and held her little hand. I was surprised by the strength of those chubby little fingers when Ashley grasped my small hand with hers and curled her fingers around mine. I was rewarded with another toothless smile and a burp. I fell in love with her that very day.

If life progressed from that day forward in the form that it had taken upon Ashley's birth, I believe that we would be like any other brother and sister, perhaps a little closer than most, but on the whole, a good family with strong ties with everyone involved. Life is not always ruled by saints but sometimes by demons that are very crafty in the disguises they take. As it was for Ashley, like I said, I am not concerned about me, but the sugary angel of my life. The twisted blackness when it came may have ruled the day but it would not conquer our lives. For Ashley's first seventeen years of life, she was the center of love given freely by my dear parents and of her big brother and committed to the words he spoke to her on her very first day of life, "Big Brother, the best big brother in the whole world."

My little sister, my little baby that would grow up to be my lover, was already my best friend and I was her hero, a boy who would never leave her behind, mistreat her, who found his greatest joy was when he made his innocent little girl laugh. Life was good for now.

Chapter II, Ashley, My Little Sister

When my friends questioned me as to why I do not just leave that little kid at home, they already knew the answer or soon would when the flare of anger swept passed my eyes directly into their own. They grudgingly accepted the fact that Little Sister was going wherever Big Brother was going and I would never be a cause for her to have a tear or made to feel that she was not welcomed. I would never leave her behind and to be honest, I just wanted her with me. Ashley had already claimed a place in my heart and even though I was still too young to understand it, she was and is my very best friend. I was extremely proud of her as a young child and her beauty was already apparent with her golden hair, bright smile, and her personal love of sports. I loved just looking at my kid sister and my heart overflowed with joy with each beating moment that I shared with her. As it was, my friends quickly accepted my little sister. Already she had reached out with her infectious laugh and in short order, not only was she accepted into our group but everyone became very fond of her as well. Her intelligence, as I mentioned, was fashioned early on and it was formidable. She could easily banter words, trade insults, and walk circles around any of my friends, including me, but would always take care never to hurt a person's feelings in thought or deed. Although her favorite comeback, requiring little effort on her part was simply, "Bite me!" which invariably caused me laugh with glee.

She never let sadness in anyone that crossed her path not feel her incredibly strong empathy. All that came into contact with her, their lives were made a little better just by the simple proximity with her purity. Animals of all shapes and sizes flocked to her and her adorable way she has with all life. By her insistency, we have two dogs, three cats, a rabbit, a parakeet, and a seemingly endless supply of wild animals that are tame in her presence. We live in the country and I suppose it is time for me to at least build a pole barn to facilitate her love of animals. This is something that we both have in common; however, the extraordinary level to which she has been able to sympathize with the other life of this planet I have not reached.

It was not unusual to see a dozen children around her at any one time and an equivalent amount of furry little creatures as well. She shared freely of herself to everyone but for me, I had a special smile, touch, and look that she only reserved for me. On those special times, when we were completely alone, an impassioned partaking took place that can only be described as pure elation. As children, she would grab my hand and race with me to find solitude for the two of us so that the kisses and caresses shared would be ours alone. At the time, innocence unbroken still ruled the day and its complete interaction felt sanctified by a sense of rightness and beauty that drifted from our hearts to the source of all things.

As she was a natural athlete, I struggled with continual shots to my ego when my child sister was selected to be on a pickup team among the neighbor kids before her big brother. Embarrassing yes, though, my pride and love for her overruled any pangs of jealously and envy I potentially felt over her. Indeed, my heart would sing in its happiness that she was so gifted. I never once showed any enmity towards her. I could feel nothing but true love for her. To be sure, while I do not possess the athletic talents and intelligence of my sweet girl, I am in no way by any means a pushover myself. I have always been strong, skilled, and relatively intelligent when compared to most but most she was not. She truly is elite now and as a child, superb in comparison to the neighborhood children. How does one feel jealous over a rare treasure whose talents might appear once in a million individuals? To be honest, I stood in awe before her and I still do today. That she shares my life, love, and desires; that she enthusiastically makes love to me with such frequency and reckless abandon is a wonder that I have no answer for. It is and for that I am grateful. Am I deserving of her, I think not but Ashley is quite adamant that I am. In this specific case, I will defer to her brilliance!

Chapter III - Home, Hearth, and Health

The home life that I shared with my baby sister was the envy of most people that we came into contact with in this little place of Americana that we grew up in. I had a dedicated, hardworking, educated, and rugged outdoorsman kind of father that would rather eat glass than beat his kids or hurt his wife. My mother, my incredibly beautiful mother who passed her genes onto my sister with one slight exception: Both of my parents had brown hair and while my father had green eyes, I am still trying to figure out where in our ancestry did my sweet Ashley gain her bottomless blue eyes and golden hair? The saying goes that certain attributes skip a generation or so but in the event of my baby, more than that must have been at play because no one in the last several generations of my family that I could discern ever looked like my angel.

It was not that we were well-off, we were standard middle class, comfortable, but had the affection and encouragement of two parents who actually loved each other. This deep association between my parents was a prime positive influence that psychologists in this day and age have forgot is the best forum to raise a family. So jaded are mental health professionals today that actual successful domestic units are the exception rather than the rule. We were without the need of professional intervention and of course, without the subsequent unnecessary billing that would be invoked upon us if we followed the basic screwed-up norm. The extra money unspent to try to level out and maintain wild children simply went to doing things that families have been doing for years. Namely, we went camping, fishing, and to amusement parks. Still, as an adult myself, I have to believe that with all the extra goodies and attention my parents provided to my sister and me, they still saved a buck or two for themselves for that romantic dinner and the sly acknowledgement that some quack with more sheepskins than brains would not be receiving regular payments due to their emotionally disturbed offspring. Alas, we were young. What I know at the time is that my little sister and I were loved, clothed, fed, and shown that we were wanted. I loved my folks and showed my deep-felt appreciation in return, however, my deepest warmth was always reserved for Ashley.

Early on, my baby sister and I were showing deep abiding fondness towards one another that probably would not be classified as customary behavior. For one, we would find opportunities in that we were completely left to our own devices and kiss not only our lips but over our entire bodies in utter nakedness. We had no clue as to what sex was all about but even as children, we were in love with one another from the time that sweet Ashley entered this world. I never hesitated in any prospect or opportunity in holding and kissing my little girl and my parents provided no reason why I should not shower my baby sister with kisses and gentle touch from the point of her birth. Innocence prevailed in our exploits but the displays of affection progressed over time. Did we ever associate the idea of sex with what we were doing: Of course not. But in our world, the one we knew as children, this was love, we knew it as love, and we loved each other. My little baby and I were in love and despite all the modern protestations of our times, the displays of affection, curiosity, and mutual physical satisfaction that we gained were the result of thousands of years of genetic attraction that cannot be swept away by a few uptight Victorian assholes and their bedroom police. Absolutely, we were pleasing ourselves in the only way we knew with the love and knowledge that we carried. Then as now, we loved each other and expressed that love in the ways we understood or found out through experimentation as time progressed.

As a child, my little stinker of a sister spent most of her nights in my bed from the point she learned to walk. Whether to allay her fears of monsters under her bed, UFO abductions, dwarfs or munchkins carrying her off in the middle of the night, an errant tsunamis that might materialize in the San Fernando Valley, or a host of other maladies, she would tear into my room with that impish smile and state just so emphatically, "Big Brother, PLEASE, protect me from fill in the blank." Now, we both knew that this was our game, a rite of passage if you will, to enter my bed pulling the blankets over our heads and looking into my eyes with those deep ocean blues, we both would descend into giggles and kisses until we fell fast asleep with her safely tucked into me, my arms wrapped around my gorgeous little girl. My parents knew of our nightly trysts and made no attempt to intervene. They both were so proud that their little boy and girl loved one another so much. Affection was not something that they either shunned or suppressed.

As time and years progressed, when we were not so fatigued, the nightly kisses that started innocently enough in our early youth progressed to deeper levels, allowing each of us to explore the body of the other, giving pleasure, and connecting to levels unknown to our active conscious. When Ashley was seventeen and I twenty, those kisses gravitated into something much more. On one particular occasion, after passionately kissing Ashley's face and neck, slowly nibbling on her ear lobes and listening to her breathing becoming deeper with a quiet moan and, "Ahhh" coming from deep with inside her, I began to caress her flawless skin with my hands following each pat and stroke with my tongue, a suck, and kiss, following the patterns traced on her skin by my hands. Moving alternatively from her chest to her back, down her arms, her smooth sides, to her belly, I kissed, licked, and stroked her supple body and with each touch, her body grew warmer to the point it was almost too hot to touch. All the while, Ashley let escape tiny moans of pleasure telling me not to stop, to go lower, with her hands on my head, she pushed me down, down further while simultaneously opening her legs until I was over her adorable slit and pink bud begging me to give pleasure for the first time in her sacred area. Her blonde pubic hair was as soft as the fur of mink. I kissed and licked the folds of her labia, moving toward the center becoming acutely aware of a unique and delightful scent that belongs only to my sister. Licking and kissing her vagina, her clit, she began to get wet on her own. Her breath becoming ragged, her back began to arch while her grip on my hair and the sheets tightened in her small hands, moans, panting, with and sounds sexual escaped her small perfect body until her pleasure was moving her towards her very first climax. "My brother, oh my brother, my, mmmm, what...!!!" She climaxed, her luxurious frame shuddering and her legs locking me between her holding on as the waves of female ecstasy washed over her time and time again.

We lay silent, my head resting on her blessed femininity with both her slender hands upon my head. "My big brother, oh what a sweet brother, my brother ..." was repeated over and over again. We were not sure as to what had truly transpired between the two of us but it seemed so right that somehow we pushed through another barrier and became infinitely closer than we were a minute ago. I told my sister I loved her and she returned the same three words, "Brother, I love you too." Not the "I love you" we always told each other from the day of her birth, but ones charged with new emotion, deeper, mixed with raw power, transformed with lust, desire, and hope. We had fallen deeply in love.

From that time on, our nightly bedroom rendezvouses became much more exciting and tender. In retrospect, I have wondered if our loving parents were ever the wiser as we progressed from innocent touch to exploring areas of our sexuality. I have often thought about whether our mother noticed the continual changing of the sheets on my bed much more often than normal as they would be soaked with our sweat, saliva, and my dear little sister's own nectar that would begin as a trickle and pick up to a flow soaking the sheets, the bed, my face and hands, and her legs on a regular basis. Although I loved the aroma and taste of my sweet baby, she produced so much girl coo that I could not keep up with my licking and slurping that I was engaged in.

Ashley returned the fondness, kissing me all over, letting her tongue bring out sensations that I had never experienced before. She began to touch me in all my intimate places, first with hands, then her tongue, and ultimately her mouth. She slid my penis into her mouth letting her incredibly sensual lips and tongue glide over my shaft to its head bringing my organ to full erection. It was my turn to moan and call out to her, "Sweet baby, my little sister, ah, my love, I love you, Ashley" falling into moans and wanting these moments to last forever. I experienced a shuddering orgasm but being only twenty, it was only a prelude of what was to become when testosterone triggered the animalistic passion catalyzed by lust, love, and tragedy. Still, these are some of my fondest memories. Two young and inexperienced lovers genuinely merged with the other, sharing something of meaning without the sense of guilt or selfishness that erodes away at our world.

For almost a year, my bed served as a springboard to experimentation, love, desire, lust, and contentment between my little sister and I while providing a respite to the daily grinds of being just young. Little did we know that that bed that we shared was to become the holder of sorrows, of countless tears, of pain unimaginable when the first evil actually appeared in our lives. It championed in the very first steps in our descent into hell. The bed that my little Ashley and I shared during her early childhood years to protect her from all sorts of fantasy creatures and this last incredible year where love's tender heart was reaching and touching the deep substances of the other would become a fortress, battleground, and an escape from where we fought our pitched battles in our hearts, souls, and eventually, in the world. Our perfect world was about to die.

Chapter IV, Evil Reaches Out - The First Death

It is often said that evil triumphs when good people fail to do anything in response to its approach. It also becomes victorious when common people make extremely poor and self-absorbing decisions. Commonsense is often the first victim that results in a cascade of events that result in tragedy. So was the case of our first death. A chain reaction of events ensues where each link, if broken, would terminate the torrent leaving all safe, albeit, suffering adrenaline shock. I have constantly searched my mind to find out what we could have done to prevent the outcome of that bitter day, a day where my family ceased as it was and became only a shadow of its former self. My sweet Ashley was to experience her first tears of sorrow and the vow to protect her from all harm was made mute. To watch her languish in unrelenting tears broke my heart further even though I, myself, was in the midst of a loss so great that I was dizzy with grief. My God, how this could happen, my little girl, this was not supposed to happen to a young girl, now, and not for many, many years. This was a robbery of life to someone so young, a mere seventeen years old with all life's promises and experiences yet to happen. Dances, driver's license, dresses, birthdays, dates, proms, marriage, children, and the very aspect of life itself had been taken or made lesser than the original grandiose design just by the careless and selfish act of another. Retreating to our bed that first night after changing the sheets and blankets, the endless tears flooding upon my chest and face mixed with my own acid anguish, the only words I heard from my little angel between her sobs that were wracking her body hour after hour were, "Big Brother, monsters are real." My sweet little sister, yes, monsters are very real.

It was a Thursday night in early fall, where the weather in Southern California is still warm in the day and there is a sweet odor permeating the air that rises from the ground and gives its earthy musk to spread through the night chill of the evening. Like Ashley, I started my year as a junior in college and was looking forward to the school year. There were no school buses available where we lived in California. The weather generally is so pleasant for the majority of the year, students were required to walk, ride their bikes, or skateboard to and from school. Ever since Ashley's first year of school, I have always walked her to school and home every day. It was a chore that I reveled in. Whether we went directly home or found a secluded oak to share our attraction to one another, well, it just depended on our moods. Invariably, we always walked hand in hand and being her big brother, I would take whatever Ashley was carrying, put it in my book bag, and showing a degree of chivalry towards my younger sister, lug it home without complaint. I was always rewarded with her smile, hug, and some soft spoken word of appreciation. Ashley could have taken up the tuba for all I cared and I would have cheerfully dragged that damned instrument back and forth for her just for the opportunity to see her smile. Fortunately for my young back, she was an athlete and soccer shoes are substantially lighter to carry. Since my entrance in college, I would drive Ashley to school on the way to my morning classes and do my best to pick her up afterwards in the afternoon.

As we have discovered, my father was a professional, a CPA by trade and at times would have to work late to do this thing or that in the financial world. He never was really late and if he had a substantial amount of work, he would simply bring it home and work on it in his study. He rarely allowed himself to miss dinner with his family and looked forward to seeing my mother and his children every day. I honestly believed that he must have been enthralled with my little sister's beauty, soft lilt of her voice, and cerulean-blue eyes. Whatever was bothering him during the day was made unimportant just by the specialness that Ashley imparted to everyone in the family. I saw him often look at my baby sister with that faraway look that a man deep in thought owns, then glance over to my beautiful mother with an incredible smile. He never mentioned it, but I honestly believed he saw so much of my young mother in my little baby girl.

My father was my mentor, my buddy, my football and fishing partner whenever my sister was not showing me up. But the special ties between father and daughter are known by any that has their own little girl. Ashley could do no wrong in my father's mind or mine for that matter. She brought a great deal of joy to my parents and for me, she IS my joy. Ashley had a father, a big brother, and a mother that were always on the lookout for her. It is funny but I was never jealous of my little sister, she had enough heart to share and each relationship that was created was unique in its own right, daughter, friend, but I believe mine was the best - big brother in love with his little sister as she was and is with him.

When my father had not called and it was approaching 8 PM at night, naturally my mother began to worry and called my father at work. When nothing but voicemail was received, she tried him on his cellphone. The same thing happened, the cell tripped over to voicemail. I knew this to be a very unusual night; something was operating out of the norms with my father. Being a person of accustomed habits, it would have been natural and proper for my father to phone and give an update. He always did. I could see in my sister's eyes that she was agitated, perhaps a bit afraid. I walked over to my little sister and held her in my arms, something I always did when I sensed her emotions were beginning to get the better of her. Holding her, kissing her cheeks, and telling her that things were going to be okay, she instinctively grabbed my hands that were wrapped around her and held them tight. She whispered her worries to me and I began to be concerned myself. I am Ashley's hero, a condition she set upon me herself; I would never show my fear to her face. But, I was beginning to become very afraid.

At 10 PM, we wished our mother a goodnight with the promise that both my father and mother would be in to say goodnight and that all was well when my father returned. This one particular night, my golden angel slipped into the bed with me under my covers shivering, pulled my arms and body around her while she was making herself as small as possible. My little sister was quaking with fear and my heart was sobbing inside to see such distress in her. I whispered everything will turn out just fine searching my mind for any plausible excuse I could give her that would have alleviated the terror she was feeling. I mentioned that father could have run out of gas, had a flat, or stuck in a conference where he could not get a phone, anything that would have helped my Ashley fall asleep in peace. The personal nature of us both being tired had finally won out, my angel fell asleep deep in my embrace as I drifted off myself.

I will always remember 11:42 PM. Those numbers are permanently etched in my mind flashing red from the digital clock besides our bed. I say our bed, Ashley's and mine, for that day ended any pretense of my sister sleeping anywhere than with me from that point on. Except for a few short days when I was in jail and Ashley in the hospital, we have shared a bed continuously for nine years. My room became our room, my bed - our bed, my closet - our closet, everything in that room changed from mine to ours at 11:42. The bed transformed itself into our fortress; the room our ramparts. Ashley and I were forever attached to one another like no person I have met through our love and now our tragedy. I no longer existed as a separate entity from her, perhaps, I never really was separate and I only had the illusion of being my own person, but the knowing was absolutely apparent from this point on. To be in love with someone that deep where the end of one and beginning of the other are blurred and somehow you know, that the coin fate gave each of you really was only half of the same. I would never trade this existence for any independence granted me. For when whatever benevolent Spirit that rules the universe merged us into the same soul, He knew that we would never ever have to be alone. At 11:42 PM that Thursday night in early fall in Southern California, I heard my mother scream.

In an instant, I was awake noticing the clock and in abject fear. My little sister popped into consciousness with such great distress, so much so, that she actually trembled and wet the bed. My mind scrambled as to what I should do. I had to aid my mother, to find out what was wrong, but I also knew that I could not just leave Ashley in our bed wet with the reassurances I would return. I may have been only twenty but leaving Ashley anywhere but in my direct line of sight was something that was not remotely conceivable. I ran into her old room, grabbed some clean and dry pajamas, her robe, panties, a towel from the bathroom across the hall and back into our room in less than one minute. I pulled all the wet clothes off Ashley, dried her with the towel, and helped dress her myself with the clean clothes that I had retrieved. I grabbed her hand and we walked down the stairs.

Holding Ashley's waist tightly, we could see our mother in tears kneeling on the floor in the foyer with two obviously distressed police officers at the door. "Mom," I asked. My mother looked at her two children wound about each other and reached up from the floor. I ran to her with Ashley in my arms and the three of us embraced for what seemed a very long time. "Your father is not coming home," was all my mother could choke out. The three of us just sat in our embrace and wept.

The events of that fateful day are somewhat a blur but around the time that my little sister started to show signs of distress, a drunk driver that cared more for where his next round was coming from than anyone on the road hit my father's car sending the machine into a power pole, rupturing the gas tank, and causing the vehicle to catch fire. The impact ruptured my father's spleen and even though he was wearing his seatbelts, the collision caused severe unsustainable internal injuries. The fire burned my father over forty percent of his body and caused detrimental poisoning by carbon monoxide. The fire department and paramedics were there in minutes and after freeing my father from his wrecked vehicle, preceded to work on him in transport and the hospital for the next two hours.

My father never regained consciousness, never had a chance to say goodbye to the family he loved, never had a chance to say he loved us all very dearly once more. A drunk ended our perfect world because he was too selfish and too uncaring to give a damn about anything than that one extra drink. As it seems in these cases, the man that ruined our lives never even received a scratch. The courts would sentence him to six months in jail and five years of probation. We were sentenced to a lifetime of despair. My baby sister was in utter horror and I could not protect her. I felt like I had just murdered my own love.

Chapter V - Solemn Misery

The day of the funeral, my sister was dressed in a short black dress that ended just above her knees, white pumps and gloves, holding a rose in one hand and my hand in her other. My mother had taken her to the salon to have her flaxen hair teased and styled, perhaps to bring some attention to my little sister, to alleviate a moment of suffering, though my sweet angel looked as despondent as she did that night. The three of us, my mother, sister, and me were to place a rose upon the casket and even though I did not think it a good idea for Ashley, she stood resolute and determined. Whether she actually intended to sacrifice that rose, I did not know because she had not said more than six words since the night our father died. Actually, she said exactly six words.

Those words were to me alone and if my mother knew what had come from my sister's clenched lips at the time, I am sure she would have been particularly disturbed. I know I was. I was actually astonished that the meaning of what she spoke was apparent in her cobalt eyes. Even if we did as she suggested, even if I was willing to go along with the idea, accepting that this could be our destiny anyway, it somehow seemed to make its appearance in a way that I would have never dreamed of even in my worst perverted nightmare. Not with Ashley, not this way. After she expressed her innermost thoughts through the horrendous distress she was feeling, my angel said nothing more except to glance deeply into my eyes, periodically, awaiting my answer. After each visual inquiry where I still had not answered, she would modestly lower her eyes to the ground or floor gripping my hand tighter for she would not let it go. I could not even relieve myself properly or bathe without her presence. My mother was in the deepest convolutions of grief and loss that she never noticed the countenance or actions of her own daughter. Ashley was so young and my sister, for God's sake, how could I acquiesce?

After the final words of service were spoken, as the cemetery caretakers lowered the father of Ashley and me into that bleak earth, we walked over to the descending casket and one by one dropped our roses as our final salute and goodbye to a man that all three of us loved so much. My angel was last, she hesitated only for a second or two, then opened her small gloved hand and allowed the rose to float from her grip and flutter down upon the coffin and land where my father's heart resided. No tears arrived in my sweet sister's eyes, she had cried for three days straight, on the forth, she whispered those incredible and possibly insane words to me, and here was the fifth, the day of the funeral. No words, no tears, just the patient silence awaiting my answer to her proposal.

The reception at our house was typical of those types of affairs. My father was well-liked and many of his colleagues and friends were at our home. His parents had passed away years ago and he had only one sister, Aunt Kimberly, who flew in from Seattle to attend. While close as children, they had drifted apart in their adulthood and yet, there was still a strong association between the two of them. She was clearly saddened and in pain. I decided that it was best if I gathered a plate of food for Ashley and leave the elders to do their mourning and remembrances in peace.

We retreated through door of our room, our parapet, to lie down face to face upon the fortress that was our bed. I was not convinced that I could get my little sister to eat anything, as a matter of fact, I was not sure she had eaten anything of substance for the last five days. When the thought that she might be starving herself, the awareness of knowing that my angel might be in jeopardy, I knew what I had to do but it was going to be a trade between her and I. I leaned over to ear and whispered slowly, surely, to make absolutely certain that there was no miscommunication. My angel nodded her head and began to eat. I let go of her hand, just for a moment, and walked out of the room. She moaned a whimper and I placed a finger to my lips. I went back downstairs to grab another plate of food and a glass of milk. I was back upstairs into the room in short order, kissed her blonde hair, her face, apologized for letting go of her hand, and placed the extra plate and milk on the table near the bed. I retrieved some comfortable clothes for the both of us and laid them down on the bed. Ashley and I both changed into jeans and pullovers. I moved close beside her on the bed, gripped her hand, and only then, did my little sister touch her food once more. I looked at the door to our room, shook my head, and feeling Ashley's eyes at my back, closed the door, set the lock for the very first time in my life, and retreated behind it for the rest of the day. It would not open again till late the next morning.

The day drifted into night and the words she spoke played over and over in my mind. I agreed to her demands to get her to eat and now that she had, she was not in any imminent danger of harm; at least, I did not think so. I have never broken my word to Ashley but this, if I went back on our agreement, would I lose the very love I wished to save? My angel can read me at will, through my emotions, my gestures, my own eyes. There is nothing I can keep secret from this bundle of love that I call my sister and these uncertainties that were transposing through my mind were easily captured by her amazing intuition. She caught my gaze with such fierceness that I absolutely knew that I was contemplating a very dangerous deception. At this time, in this space, she would not forgive a deliberate action on my part to break the pact that she had instigated and I had reluctantly agreed. When distress showed in my features, when now my own oscillating strife within my own heart began to show, she softened her gaze but not her determination that her big brother was going to be good to his word. This action was not the same as all the other events in our shared lives. It was a commitment that Ashley asked me for, something that I eventually would be willing to give in time, but now, I had to be sure, this cannot be wrong, a decision like this cannot be recalled, I asked my little sister, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," one word from her lips spoken with a soft surety that was her characteristic. With that, she placed the pressure of her hands upon my shoulders indicating that I should roll to my back. She straddled me and lowered her face to mine. Ashley reached up and pulled her sun-streaked hair behind her ears and began to kiss me with such passion and with the deepest yearning that my body reacted without conscious thought. The heat of our efforts was taking on a life of its own. Ashley quickly removed her pullover and forced mine up to my chest. She buried her face and lips into my belly, kissing, licking, and caressing with increased urgency. I was losing any semblance of control, any degree of doubt, and when my sibling began to kiss my chest and lick my nipples, I ripped off what was remaining on my upper torso and threw it to the floor.

I returned her kisses to her breast and nipples, the firm pink receptors of her pleasure, kiss for kiss, lick for lick, and caress for caress. After five days of almost no indication that she was willing to break the chrysalis of grief that encapsulated her, my sibling, my dear little sister, launched back into life with a passionate strike against the evil that pressed in on her but was thrown back with the very act in which we were engaged. I rolled her over onto her back, unbuttoned her jeans, and pulled both her jeans and panties off with one steady tug. She reached out against my chest to stop me, rose to her knees, and opened my jeans, undid my zipper, and with a great push from her smaller body, toppled me to my back while removing my pants in almost the same manner.

She was in control, this was her request, she would lead, and I would follow. She kissed me everywhere, her tongue and mouth, touching, closing, and caressing every part of my body. My erection had achieved a gorging and a throbbing madness that I had never experienced before. Her mouth upon my cock, there was just no other name for it. I was being driven into an ecstasy that had no comparison to any act that we had performed before. When I thought that our passion could not move pass this epitome that we just had achieved, she turned her body around and forced her young pussy directly into my face.

Locked in a position where we both were hungry for each other's sex, we caressed, kissed, licked, and sucked wildly at each other while her floodgates opened allowing her juices to drench my face driving her closer to an orgasm unlike any before. Listening to her moan deeply, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, yes, my sweet brother, keep your word, yes ...," her voice trailing off, she spun around again, grabbing my throbbing insanity that was my cock, placed it to the entrance of her womanhood, and slid slowly down, stopping only for a second as her virginity was penetrated. A yelp came from her exquisite lips and something that felt very warm dripped down my shaft. Only later did I learn that it was her blood. She moved slowly down, in and out, picking up speed and fury, changing her voice from one of pain to one of complete lust, hearing her say, "Brother, big brother, MY BROTHER" over and over again. She sped up, sliding me in and out of her in increasing stokes, pulling me into her tight canal as deep as I could go until we both exploded in a blinding orgasm emptying everything that I was into her tight womb. In unison, we both shouted "Oh my God!" The bed became awash with our fluids and her innocent blood. She intentionally sacrificed her crimson sanctity as a statement to reality that she was here to stay, that she would not retreat into the darkness of the night.

That night, in pits of despair, in a pain so deep that all grip with reality was temporarily severed, my little sister, claimed to all of the world, that no, she would not be defeated, that she was alive. My love and I lost our virginity to each other that night. She collapsed on top of me and stayed there while tears that she had suppressed flowed once more. The tears of healing and of tenderness that had once defined her, defined her once more. She whispered, "We are love," and kissed me with such gentleness that I was driven to tears, my heart swelling for this young girl. Those six shocking and powerful words that she whispered in my ear, those six words that would put us both on a very different trajectory, were simply this, "I need you to fuck me." With such crassness, she defeated the wall of absolute despondency that was threatening to close in on her. Never again would I look at my sweet angel the same way. Never would I make the mistake of underestimating this girl's mind. That night, without any misunderstanding on my part, she claimed me as her own for all eternity. The citadel that was our bed had won this round against an evil that had killed.

Chapter VI, Escape from Reality

Our mother was a woman that was absolutely devoted to her husband. She had met father in their second year of college at UCLA, she majoring in childhood psychology, and our father in accounting. They were instantly attracted to one another and needless to say, became quite the romantic item for the remaining tenure of their college careers. Deeply in love, they married the summer of their graduation. I came along a year later. To them, waiting to build a family made no sense. The prospect of creating permanence between them was their need, the act that they both acknowledged as their prime reason for existence. In short, they were destined to be family-oriented lovers and in the years of shared bliss, were in their own nirvana.

My mother had light brown hair, brown eyes, and fair complexion. She stood as tall as Ashley is now and was beautiful in her own right. My mother had chiseled features, a slender nose, and prominent cheekbones that my father would gently caress whenever he thought we were not looking. While not as athletic as my little sister, nonetheless, she enjoyed outdoor activity and the Pacific Ocean nearby. For my mother, all meaning to her was derived from the love that she shared with my father and her two obviously close children. She could not fathom any other type of existence. With the death of our father, my belief was that there would be a gravitation of sorts towards her children, even risking emotional suffocation of the two of us, at least for a time, while grief worked through the layers and levels of her emotional substance. Becoming an overly protective woman that was tragically wronged in her early years of her middle age, my mother was only 43 at the time of our father's death, would be something expected. Being unfairly deprived of one precious relationship, it would be predictable that grasping and holding closely the remaining two only understandable. For some as yet unexplained reason, my mother retreated from the two children that she carried, nurtured, and gave birth to into a funk and depression that resulted in neglect and abuse of her offspring. The inconceivable emotional agony that my mother experienced was perhaps too much for any coping mechanism that was inherent within her. She abused alcohol at first, then prescription pills, supplied from an endless parade of doctors whose philosophy was "better living through chemistry" and ultimately, both at the same time.

Ashley and I loved our mother and it was shredding my baby's gentle heart to watch her mother self-destruct, especially, when my angel needed her the most. The decline was gradual but steady. My mother removed herself from the requirements of her children's needs becoming less active with each passing month to the point that she was barely functional just to raise herself up and meet the needs of her own body. Many times Ashley broached the subject with various school counselors and with each succeeding attempt, the result was absolutely the same. No one would risk their reputations or avail themselves of their precious time to intervene. Ashley and I were left to fend for ourselves.

For some reason, my mother accepted that her grown children were sleeping together every night in my former room, now acknowledged as our room. I do not know what she thought about the vacated room that Ashley had once occupied, at least in name, only from the point of view of our mother, either she did not care or was too far gone to realize that Ashley and I acted more and more as lovers and mates and less like the traditional brother and sister dyads of most families. I supposed that after the night that Ashley gave herself to me, it would not have made much difference anyway. We would have found a way to share the night in secret had any hindrances presented themselves. Our mother had dropped out of our lives for all points of practicality, crushing Ashley's sweet composure on a daily basis. Our bed and the intimate sharing of our love was the only relief for the two of us, only a fraction of what we had had before that tragic night, but it was a true devotion and it allowed us to cope through these dark and lonely times. Our sweet affirmations of love were and are very real, guiding us through the maze and mire that had become our lives.

As time progressed, the home that we all shared became the home where Ashley and I resided and where my mother disappeared into. My sweet sister and I divvied up the resulting chores and maintenance of the dwelling, cutting and trimming the lawn, hedges, trees, cleaning, cooking, vacuuming, and any other daily requirements meant to stave off entropy of its structure and land. By the time that words reached this paper, Ashley and I already have eight years invested in shared work and experience in the care and feeding of a household. To be honest, we are pretty good at it. The neighbors never made known their thoughts after my father's death. I have often thought that we disappeared in their eyes. That somehow the fate that befell us was an ill omen that must be avoided. To watch two young siblings disappear on a regular basis only to find them at the local supermarket buying food and necessities for the home and literally hauling them back in my old car and saying nothing is incredulous to me. We had money for our immediate needs, mainly from the insurance payout and we would "borrow" my mother's debit card to pay for our purchases. My mother said usually nothing unless it included that we should pick up her drug prescriptions on the way back.

As the months yielded, every aspect of the home, from gathering whatever sundries that was required, to paying the bills, all characteristics of living were the responsibility of Ashley and me. Whatever sports that Ashley was involved in, I was there as her favorite fan, from practices to competition, I remained by her side throughout. My mother never saw my angel compete.

My little sister and I rarely were apart more than needs of the moment required. We still had our friends together and we tried to remain social whenever possible, but as is with all things, change is an inevitable fact of life. What was unchanging was our love and commitment to one another; it seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

Ashley's innate intelligence could not be denied and after completing the first half of 12th grade, she was graduated. The school sponsored a celebration in my dear love's honor with speeches, awards, and accolades stating that she was such a brilliant and rare treasure that it was nothing short of a joy to have her grace the halls of our High School. In some ways, I felt the confused feelings of being her lover and pride the way a father must feel at their offspring's special moments. Sitting in the audience, I had begged my mother to come, just this once for her little girl, somehow knowing that she would not. I would not understand the drive for Ashley to succeed at her studies, to actually overachieve, to eat up the years in school, to catch up to me in terms of where I was in the curve of education, not too much later. She was forming a life's plan and as usual, whether I was cognizant of it or not, it included the both of us. Ashley entered UCLA at the age of seventeen.

We had been making love to one another for over six months when she entered the same university as me. With each succeeding attempt, the passion between us grew, the techniques vastly improved to the point that we reached altered states of consciousness through the initiation, approach, and the stupendous copulation that ensued. We relied on, we needed, and we demanded from our bodies, souls, and awareness the type of intermingling through the act of sexual contact that only a few lovers comprehend. Each new act of mutual congress was the result of experimentation and investigation between the two of us. We never had a book on sexual behavior. The art of lovemaking was learned through loving trial and error.

Ashley was becoming an adult and her beauty changed from that of an innocent little girl to one of a remarkable woman. Her long golden hair began to acquire a natural wave to it as it raced past her shoulders to her back. The slight amount of baby fat that she retained in her cute cheeks was replaced with features that define her today. Her distinctive slender nose that terminates slightly with a gentle upturn, her full pouty lips, strong cheekbones, and those incredible blue eyes resulted in a young woman with spectacular beauty. I have to wonder about the other boys in class with her, their absolute fascination with Ashley's beauty, the young crushes and desires that they had about her, the amount of male (or female for that matter) masturbation giving rise in their fantasies, the wish to be called her friend, or the confusion that Ashley never dated. To be seen with no one but her brother, I am sure caused some consternation amongst them. We did not live in total isolation, there were a few very close and trusted friends that were with us from the beginning of our lives with each other; that knew in some form or another our condition, and accepted our personal relationship without judgment.

Ashley was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed waiting for me to enter the room. "Sweet Brother, I have something to tell you." Then as now, I loved it when she called me that.

"Yes, Little Sis?" I said as I slid next to her on the bed.

"I am thinking that we should be more careful with our expressions of love."

We were lucky that she had not became pregnant, however, that might have not been a tragedy in the strictest sense. I gazed at my sister, without embarrassment, we have shared much deeper issues and said, "Well Baby, we could start using condoms now."

"No."

"No?"

"No." Condoms were off the table, seeing a little distress in my eyes, she laughed, "Big Brother, you look so pained, no, dear, I have an idea." With that, she called our family doctor and made an appointment. A few days later, she kissed me while I was watching some program on the television, motioned me to go up to our room with her, and said, "Make love to me you silly boy." Then she smiled, "It's okay."

We were consumed with the fire of our mutual attraction, neither of our bodies that of children any longer. We groped, reached, and touched each other's most sensitive areas with the knowledge gained over years of sexual contact and play. She toyed with me at first and then moved to give me orally, with the same passion what her secret place has given to me since that first time, until I could feel my passion rise to an uncontrollable release. "Sis, my sweet baby, I am going to cum!" I warned her but could not stop her of my own volition. She did not stop and I, swept in the moment, poured my hot semen into my sweet angel's mouth. She stayed with my manhood in her hands, mouth, sucking, eating each pulse, spasm, and throb of white potent sperm until finally, I was able to unconstrict my muscles from the pure sweeping ecstasy that had just occurred.

"Ah, Big Brother, you taste so sweet!" "By the way, I told the doctor that I was having severe cramps with my periods and he prescribed birth control pills, so..." I understood completely, I began to ravage my sweet angel with much tenderness and vigor.

In the master bedroom, our mother began her descent into hell.

Chapter VII, Descent into Madness

Our mother's slow descent into her own private Hell probably started the very second she released the rose from her hand almost seven months before. While the first manifestations that appeared were the obvious disconnect from reality, her refusal to come to grips with her and our tragic loss, she saw her two children as infamous reminders of what had been taken from her. Compounding the situation was the slow decay of her brain by the ingestion of copious amounts of poisons in the futile effort to drown her pain. Lack of exercise and proper nutrition paired with drugs and alcohol fueled her decline. All humans, whether they wish to agree or not, are created with the absolute need to socialize with other living entities so they may survive, repair, cope, and hopefully flourish but with our mother, she terminated that built-in ability to empathetically connect with others of her own kind and family. This impenetrable isolation and abuse caused what had been a wonderfully caring individual to dwindle into madness. Her specific psychosis gradually worsened with Ashley on the receiving end of her indignation.

My little sister received the blunt of our mother's hostility while my sweet angel was in unconditional need of her mother's love. We could understand, initially, our mother's grief. We were in throes of pain ourselves, the sense of loss dulling everything else in our lives. But as our mother retreated deeper into that dark tunnel that would not release her, into self-punishment for which there was no escape, Ashley's heart was crumbled to dust with thoughts that somehow, her mother's decline was her fault. It may have started with a snub there, a missed opportunity for mother and daughter to connect here, but as the insanity avalanched, our mother ceased to recognize the very existence of her precious child. Those initial months of isolation for my sweet princess were the worst. The bed we shared was continually coated with a layer of her fresh tears. Oh, how my heart wept for my sweet angel. How she tried with all the desire and understanding that that dear little girl was capable of, Ashley just could not reach her mother's love. I was constantly overwhelmed with complete trepidation that I would lose my love, my innocent little sister, to the horror overcoming and conquering our mother's life.

As Ashley slowly adjusted to life without her mother, the realization that her and I were all that was in our tiny existence, as she accepted her plight that perhaps the disease of her mother's mind was not some internal wrongness on her part, that she had some modicum of value that was imparted from her brother's eyes, finally knowing and embracing the worth found between sharing of mutual love bounded between two star-crossed lovers, in doing so, capturing some happiness in believing that for whatever reason that fate turned against her one respect, yet opened a door in another, as she was becoming a young woman in her own right, life decided to rain down upon her with malice once more. Ashley had found her love, her reason to exist, her spiritual happiness with the very first person she opened her eyes to as a newborn, and that existence was being threatened but the sheer lunacy of a person gone mad.

It started innocuously enough. We had begun to believe that our mother was making a stride back to reality when anger was finally showing its face, that perhaps, even if it was long overdue, our mother was fighting with whatever reserves were left in her psyche, to come to grips with tragedy, and emerge once more as our mother, the woman we loved and adored. It would be a quick nasty comment towards Ashley followed shortly by what appeared to be an act of genuine contrition asking forgiveness of my dear sister. A comment might have been uttered that the death of our father was my baby's fault or that she did not love our father as much as our mother. Immediately following a diseased comment would be what appeared to be a heartfelt apology and a struggle to find where the tragedy ended for my mother and reality stated. Ashley was heartbroken over these comments, this acid poured into the angelic nature of her essence, yet she would raise above all the blackness of those hurtful statements and embrace her mother's requests for forgiveness. Many times I was held back by my sister's hand, to allow time for our mother to heal as time was granted us. We had each other, she reminded me, we were our mother's children, and she had no one to share as we did. As I have said, my sister's love distinguishes no constraints and is eternally pure.

What we did not know and could not have possibly surmised at the time was that the picture in my mother's imagination was entirely different to what appeared in reality. Had we known, had we even possibly guessed, no matter how bizarre or remote the possibility, we would have had her committed on the spot. Although we had matured years farther than our chronological ages would have suggested, nothing in our short lives ever prepared us for what was to come. Ashley had become my mother's sworn enemy, living in a dreamscape of deceit and corruption of our mother's disturbed mind. What stability that my baby and I achieved since our father's death was about to be thunderously dismantled.

I suppose if one were to disengage themselves from being in reality to one being an observer, a fly on the wall perspective, the warning signs would have been more apparent. Unfortunately, either we study history in terms of the past or we live in it in the present. There is just no other way. Terms like "in retrospect" or "had I known" or perhaps, "if I had to do it all over again" would never had achieved their popularity if facts were provided, if that secret unknown percentage that occurs behind the veil of the mind would be there for all to read. We caught our mother staring out longingly at the driveway one late evening. She smiled at the two of us and said with apparent honestly, "I am waiting for your father to come home." A distress came over the both of us, yet my mother smiled, "We can dream can't we?" A queer statement but followed by a sense that she knew where she was and that perhaps, it was a melancholy moment for her, longing for her mate to once again appear in her loving arms. Though alarmed, the night quietly preceded on its own. Outside our room, a single comment that we thought was directed towards us both was uttered in our mother's hushed tone, "Goodnight dear." In retrospect, such a phrase, the singular use of "dear" instead of "dears" should have flagged us but to be honest, we only heard what we wanted, not because we were in any way less concerned or even a bit selfish, but our minds just created the ideal circumstance that allowed us to sleep in peace. A week or two passed and for all indications, it did look as our mother was finally on-track in the infancy of her healing. A few more snide comments but nothing hideous while all the time seeking Ashley's forgiveness and acceptance. It never entered the shared conversation between us or even that our mother wanted to question the unity that Ashley and I had created. It did not seem to matter to her, for all purposes, it was something that she appeared to accept. We gave some thought to the matter that for some unknown reason that our mother recognized that what we did was an act of survival and therefore it was tolerable to her and not the overarching fact that Ashley and I were deeply committed to each other and in love. We had grown accustomed to not locking our door because there was no bona fide reason to do so. Since the death of our father, our mother has never entered our room or even made any indication or desire to do so. Little did we know, at this one precise occasion, she had reached with her hand to our door, pushed it open just a peak and looked inside.

What she saw, what her mind told her she saw, ushered in a component of evil that devastated my mother in an instant. She saw not what her eyes told her that was real, not what her senses told her was true. Our mother saw a complete fabrication created as a Faustian fantasy being played out that was no more connected to us as her beliefs in her mind were connected to reality. She screamed with such force and blood curdling tenacity that I believed that she would murder us both. Incredible terror rolled through us. Had our mother decided at this very moment to come back in the land of living, to reach back to us with such force and resentment towards her two children and form the basis of total condemnation towards the very existence of Ashley and me? During the process of becoming lucid had she become so disgusted by our act of lovemaking between two siblings that her first rational thoughts in months were of absolute hatred towards the two who now were in pitch of heat ed embrace?

"Ashley, you fucking whore, you tramp, you disgusting little pig-slut, how could you be screwing your own father?!" Our mother ran to her room and slammed the door.

Chapter VIII, Evil Reaches Out - The Second Death

Our mother was completely horrified, terrified, and sickened by the revelations of her twisted mind. She had utterly vanished into whatever connection that functioned as her actuality. Her entire being lost into a chemically-altered awareness. From our room, Ashley and I heard the thrashing of uncontrollable rage, the shattering of fragile objects, and the senseless symphony of destruction. The crash of broken glass rained upon the floor and profanity-laced expletives pounded from behind the sealed door created sounds that conquered and defied reason. An incomprehensible drama was overtaking the remnants of our family. Without rest, absent of respite, my angel was subjected to a litany of insults and verbal mangling of her guiltless soul.

"How could you, you damn dirty cunt, how dare you!?" was screamed with such ferocity and forcefulness from the woman that had carried us both into life itself. "Damned filthy rotten excuse for a daughter, I hope you die in your own vomit of reeking disgust!" "I hate the both of you," said with a much more controlled tone that made the impact exceedingly bone-chilling. "My husband, the man I gave my life to and that slut of a daughter ..." the sound of our mother's expression trailed off into nothingness but an upwelling of sobs and opening of drawers. Ashley exploded into an unrelenting cascade of heart-wrenching tears.

"My God, my God, my God, what the hell is happening?" were the only thoughts that I could think with any clear rationality. To be perfectly honest, I had surmised that the known universe had just developed a giant fissure and we had fallen directly through into another dimension. This, whatever this was, cannot be connected to anything that remotely resembled a coherent continuum. We were being drawn into a passageway where cause and effect no longer applied. The unmitigated shock that was sweeping over my entire body was suddenly snapped with a crack and I was thrust back into the here and now when I became aware of my little sister's retching of anguish originating from deep within her. As she lay naked next to me within the sheets of our bed, in unresolved levels of excruciating emotional turmoil, she was pushed so deep by her personal agony that conscious thought was curtained away in the deepest recesses of her being. I reached for my angel, both of us in a state of total unbelief, and wrapped around her with as much exposed flesh that could be joined from the surface of our bodies, hoping beyond hope that the physical contact between the two of us would break this evil spell and ground her within our embrace. "Ashley, my deepest love," I whispered into her ear, "This is NOT about YOU" I tried to convince her, although my words were still quivering from the shockwave of what had just transpired only a few minutes before. Ashley grabbed my hair and buried her face into my chest trying to suppress the waves of unadulterated anxiety lapping against her sanity.

We glided out of bed, not knowing precisely what to do, and reached for our robes while attempting to determine our next course of action. Nothing that we had experienced in our lives, read in books, or even seen in the theater could remotely give us a path to follow. We were lost without a compass or rudder to set course by, no, this was to be an ad lib endeavor, made up as we went along, and trusted that we would not disintegrate completely in the process. My angel stared intently into my eyes, hoping, wondering, and relying on her older brother to formulate an escape from this madness that had surrounded us all. I gazed back at my younger sister with an expression of lost confusion.

We slowly crept to my mother's bedroom door and knocked slightly. "Mom," I spoke in uneven tones, "It's your son and daughter. May we speak?"

"Go away and tell that bastard of a father he can go to hell with his sick excuse of a daughter!"

"Mom, father is dead, don't you remember? It was just Ashley and I," I tried to reason with her. "Your sweet little girl would never do anything to hurt you, you must know that."

What sounded like a whisper or a snarl, both seemed to be present in the words that followed, "My husband is dead?" I felt the cold hand of perspiration slither down my back. I reached for Ashley's hand and gently tried to lead her away from the door of that room. Some sixth sense cried out to me, I felt sick, my stomach in knots, something demanded my attention to turn away, to forcefully remove my angel from this environment, to run out into the night's air, to act and not contemplate, to give relief to this claustrophobic feeling that suffocated me near that entrance. What sort of irrationality gripped me, I did not care; I had to get Ashley away from whatever thing had maliciously exhibited itself behind the closed door. The thoughts of monsters from my little sister's childhood opened up in my mind.

Our mother called, "Son, Ashley, I am so sorry, do come in." Too late. Ashley moved towards the door and before I could get between her and it, the entry swung opened revealing a shiny metallic object with a black opened maw. The woman that held it, I no longer recognized. Our mother's face was distorted into a vicious frenzy and revulsion so unfathomable in its abysmal depths that the sheer possibility of its existence by any standard of sane reasoning would have never entered the minds of those that knew her. What satanic indwelling had come over her? A detonation ripped through the fabric of time and space revealing a flash of lightening ten feet away. The bullet ripped through the door to the right of both Ashley and me splintering the edge of the frame lancing my sweet sister's flawless face. I reacted, not thinking, just movement soaked in purpose and the panicked realization that my baby was in grave peril. I shoved her to the floor and dropped over her in time to hear another thunderclap in flight over my head. I felt the sensation of something damp and before I could make sense of it, Ashley screamed. I had been struck covering my baby's body with my own.

I reached to my shoulder and saw the rubicund color of my own blood. I do not know exactly if I acted out of instinct, love, fear or perhaps, a set of complex emotions that resisted description, but I had propelled myself towards my mother's hand with an intent focus on that harbinger of death. Where the fuck had that gun come from? At that very moment, the revolver went to our mother's own head, "Mom DON'T!"

My baby collapsed into unconsciousness. Evil had unceremoniously reached out and claimed the second death.

Chapter IX, Solemn Oath

As our mother dropped to the floor with a sickening thud, my attempts to intervene caused me slide directly into her body like lovers intertwined. The sickening stench of cordite was present throughout the room. A burnt foul reminder, laden and heavy with the fragments of lasting false incriminations, of a final brutal act of hatred that contaminated the radius of the entire chamber. An animosity brought to life as a possessed creature operating out of a sense of betrayal. My senses were shattered as I labored to breathe. The pain in my left shoulder steadily increased in crescendo until I could feel nothing but the throb and stabbing of countless wasps digging at my reason. Slowly, I became aware of our mother's body turned outward from my own. Her once brilliant flowing russet hair lying upon my face intermingled with gore of her final demise. The blood seeping and pooling with a life of its own, it edged outwards in a circle, like a flowing cerise halo around her head. As the pained roared through my body, it forced my thoughts together, to begin to interleave, coalesce, and form into words, phrases, and sentences that spoke to me through the screen of my mind.

With my right arm, I gently disentangled from my mother with great caution and reverence. She was no more our enemy than our father. As he was victim of a careless fate, so was our mother. She died of a broken heart. No amount of chemicals or alcohol could deaden the loss that had tragically overtaken her. Thoughts about Ashley intruded in my mind: Could this be our lot?

I could not look upon her face. I knew that if I did, the nightmares that would pursue me would companion me for the rest of my life. The robe that I had put on prior to the culmination of this horrid event was covered and dripped with mingled blood that continued to ooze with each beat of my heart. I stood up gradually, first to my knees and then to my feet. I was immediately overcome by a violent dizziness and a nauseated response. My guts split and rumbled churning bile into my throat that burned and sliced at my esophagus until I could no longer hold my gorge. I labored into the master bathroom and vomited into the sink. I grabbed a towel, opened the shower door, and turned the water on immersing it in the waterfall of the stall. I brought the drenched cloth to my face to wipe whatever disgust that remained there and after turning off the water; my attentions were quickly focused back on Ashley. Perhaps three or four minutes had passed since this deadly dance waltzed its final step. The compression of time that I felt caused it to feel much longer.

Ashley laid still on her chest, her breasts propping her to the left. Her soft cheek pressed against the floor, blood seeping down the other, streaking her golden mane. Bits of wood and detritus from the leaded projectile were scattered about. She had collapsed completely when she saw the gun brought up against her mother's head. I wrapped my functioning arm around her back bringing her up to my chest while reaching to the door with my fingers of my disabled arm, closed the scene behind us not allowing Ashley to gaze at the wrecked image of her mother. It was enough to understand the happenings that took place that evening, my angel would carry the burden for eternity, but she should not be condemned to witness the finality of it all. The one mercy allowed her at its end. We had lost two parents that loved and were loved in return. Tremendous guilt slugged and tore at my emotions. I had not protected my little sister as I promised I would. I had not prevented another senseless tragedy from gripping our family. The immense failings that I felt squeezed and mocked my worthiness. I was beginning to question my stability as the dark hand of despair reached for my heart.

I managed to drag Ashley back to our room laying down first the weight of her head, back, and waist on the bed. I reached over to swing her legs around and quietly lowered them as well. She looked asleep except for the splintered face, yet her beauty radiated outwards despite the injuries. Holding the towel I had around my shoulder, I dampened another one from the hallway bathroom and brought it back to the room. I placed it ever so gently against her face and reached to the table near our bed, picked up the cellphone, and called emergency 911. The soothing cool liquid revived my angel, drawing her back into the night from the pits of her subconscious. She groaned as she re-entered our space and opened the depths of her eyes; the blue, dusky with sorrow. Seeing the bloodied shoulder of her brother and wincing from her own discomfort, she bolted upright and hugged me gingerly; careful not to squeeze where it might cause additional pain, and held on. We wept silently knowing it was unnecessary to give sound to horror, we understood what had happened. She quietly, almost meekly pronounced, "Big brother, my loving brother, you threw down your life to save mine." I pulled back from her a bit; I had no words to say. I kissed her face and held her tight until the police and emergency crews finally arrived.

Ashley answered the ring at the front entrance with me bringing up the rear. The discomfort in my shoulder had reduced to a dulled reminder of the original pain. The police entered first; there was a firearm incident, while the paramedic crews quickly gained access when they were cleared. The team split up and triaged the two of us together. After analyzing our vitals, I was strapped to a gurney and my little sister was permitted to walk behind. The police cordoned off the area, inside and out, with quiet respect. They would not remove the evidence or our mother's body until we had left. As the ambulance drove away with the two of us, I noticed a black van come towards our home. I never tried to direct Ashley's attention to it but managed to have her attention focused on me rather than the white lettering on its side: Los Angeles County Morgue.

At the hospital, we were quickly treated. Ashley's wounds were cleaned, sterilized, and it was determined that she did not need stiches, that a butterfly bandage would hold the tissues together until they properly healed. It was thought with a little luck, my angel would have no visible reminder of what had taken place.

I received a glancing impact from the projectile which resulted in little structural damage but a graft had to be performed to close the wound. The scar that resulted to my physical presence was nothing compared to the injuries to our cores. My little sister was released after a few hours but would not leave her big brother. She stayed with me in my room for three days. The hospital staff took pity on us and offered her a cot but she refused and snuggled against me in the same bed for my entire stay. I had little to say to my angel. I struggled with depression that somehow I failed her once again. That deep abiding love that is Ashley refused to let go, she was determined to call me back, to place me at her side, to find some vibrancy, and bring it into the light. If necessary, she would take the fight into the somber echoes that wound around me and defeat them herself. Part of me embraced her tune, the optimism and fight that were so much a part of her, the other half, stewed in a sense of unworthiness, wondering how this angel could want someone that could not keep the terrors at bay.

The gentleness of her voice was soothing, healing in fact. Ashley held tightly to my hand as I had once, not too long ago, and spoke, "I love you, no one matters but you and I in this sordid world. We are love, Big Brother, we are always love." With these words, I kissed Ashley deeply, passionately, without restraint, working through the grimacing pain, embracing it, just to feel her sensitive lips, the heat of her mouth, the probing of her tongue. Through all the pain and suffering, through the trials and loss, something had changed in our bond, the sense of merger was growing stronger, words were beginning to fail at what we were becoming, emotions now communicated at a surpassed level needing no sound to influence, something very true had occurred and we captured it with strengthening acceptance.

We were released to return to our home. Dread crept over our thoughts. There were no cordon tapes remaining, we were free to enter. The detectives had questioned us in the hospital and satisfied with the answers closed the case. No newspaper reported the attempted murder of Ashley or the suicide itself. The event was closed with a report in the death certificate as accidental by gunshot. The coroner felt pity at the youth of the two of us and filed the report as stated.

There is an organization funded by donations and recovered drug money that provides professional sanitation of a crime scene at no cost to the victims. All evidence of that night had been steamed, vacuumed, and washed away. The destruction caused by the impacts was repaired. Had a person entered the house without knowledge of what had transpired, they would have concluded that all was well in this dwelling. We saw the results of the cleaning crew's efforts and were grateful. We closed the door to our parents' room. We would have to return in time but for now, the entrance was shuttered in hopes of keeping the wraiths that existed in loving form from another day, from another time, imprisoned in the exultant past.

It was early afternoon when we returned. Ashley unlocked the door while I paid the cab. We walked into the entryway and sat down in the family room closely to one other. The doctors had given me a sling to wear while my shoulder healed but mentioned to me that if I was careful, I could go without. It felt somewhat better to have the arm immobilized; otherwise, I constantly felt my arm pulling at the repair. The pain was much more tolerable and I had not taken any Oxycodone since we had left the hospital. Ashley got up and made us something light to eat, a couple turkey sandwiches, chips, and glasses of milk. She returned next to me and we ate without hurry, just being near one another was enough.

The day hurried into night, we each took our turn preparing ourselves for sleep. Ashley dressed in a sleek nightgown that was translucent that exhibited her feminine features, her unique curves, the tantalizing stature that she owned. I was dressed simply in my boxers and had removed the sling before I entered the shower. We gathered ourselves on the fortress of solitude that held our sorrows and looked deeply into one another's eyes. We both understood the emotions of the other while we reached deep to convey what we wanted to say.

Ashley kneeled besides me on the bed, holding both of my hands; she stared deeply into me, "My Sweet Big Brother, the man who saved my life, the beat of my heart, and the keeper of my soul. I love you with all my being, with everything that was, is, and will be, to carry who I am, to share all that I am, in this life and the next, I give myself freely to you." With what she had said, how she had said it, healed whatever cracks that had been opened, and any doubt that I ever had was wiped away with those phenomenal words.

I inhaled for a moment and then held my breath. Her gaze commanded me, "My Dear Baby Sister, the angel that came into being, the love I waited for, the love who holds me, you are all that I could ever want, hope for, and dream about. You carry my heart, my love, and my soul. I love you with everything that I am, to share all that I am, in this life, and the next, I give myself freely to you." In this instance of time, we gave meaning to all the minutes, days, and years of the past. All the laughter, the countless hours shared, the caresses, the soft kisses, the holding of hands, the tragedies, the victories, all the events in our lives had led us to this point. At this very moment, in this second, there could be no other, we were complete.

She removes her coverings and lays flat on the bed. He quickly removes what he wears and lies to her side. Their faces and lips closing the distance between them, the love that is to be consummated is not that of just two lovers, but two who are now and forever sworn as one. They intertwine as his hands strokes her hair pulling her closer and her doing the same. Their lips, bodies, and legs are together as one. Each kiss and exploration of their hands expresses with supreme tenderness while discovering the body of the other with no rush. They bring a touch to the face, a kiss, followed by lick of the tongue reveling in the sensations and closeness that it brings to them. Lips, to the nose, to lips again, chin, ears, forehead, moving to the neck and back again, each sharing bringing new delights of mutual desire. Moving to her breasts, kissing, holding, caressing, flicking each tiny morsel of her, hungry to experience and understand this delicate and firm body as never before. The angel is mimicking the same line, the same unhurried motion, capturing each feature and response into her. Seeing each body as extension of the other, the differentiation begins to disappear as they melt into one another.

Below the breasts of this woman, a sister perhaps, but she has earned the right to be an equal; her belly lay smooth and flat. The warmth of the skin, a line traced in the center from her athlete's body showing power and femininity of her abominable muscles eagerly awaiting touch and caress. Hearing her purr and moan with each new discovery asking for more and delivering in return driving the two that are sharing this bed into higher and higher understanding, reaching past the physical into the boundaries of the ethereal, she has given totally of herself to each new adventure. Moving a hand down to explore her blonde soft hair, to feel the pelvic push back with each gentle brush, creating a sensation for giver and receiver, each hair igniting the nerve behind it, causing a rising of desire and willingness to share, with the statement of love powerfully behind it.

Going further, being pushed further, touching the bed between her legs, to feel the wetness that already is there, but she must wait to let the desire's gait increase, going further down, kissing her legs, letting a tongue touch her knee, folding her leg to kiss behind it, caressing her to her feet, kissing and licking her toes, and moving between to stroke her inner thighs, building a picture of her splendor in his mind.

When every part, every square inch of her body has been touched, tasted, and consumed with passion, only then, can she feel the sweet ecstasy of first a finger, than a kiss, and finally a ravaging mouth that is consumed with her taste and her pleasure. Licking, probing, feeling the force of her hips grind against the tongue and mouth, seeking a merger between giver and receiver, demanding, building, sculpting, promising, and delivering the repeating climax that was before only a thought that lived elsewhere but now has taken shape in reality, impossible to control, not wanting to be controlled, while the flow from deep in her is testament and reward to the giver.

Hearing the sounds of love, with each soft moan, a yes being given in increasing desperation, sweet names being called, the Maker being praised, she pulls him into her so that the union between two people, to simultaneously exist as one, a pouring of energies with each stroke, at first slow, taking some time to tease, and pushing deeper, while she forces herself steadily onto the instrument giving both lovers an increasing urgency, causing the bodies of both to tense, muscles to lock, hearts racing in unison, until both are released into a shuddering orgasmic completion, the release of his gift, and her acceptance of it brings both bodies crashing together drenched in mutual sweat and liquid embrace.

Love has been transformed; it has gained a defined holiness, through a solemn oath sworn by two.

Chapter X, First Steps into the Light

While we had each other, we had lost what our lives had been; wonderful, full of love, the future, pride in achievements, and family. It had been only several months and yet, it seemed ages ago before our lives were fragmented and torn from the ground that were so deeply rooted. The physical affection that was shared between the two of us in our first attempts was an act of love, yes, but overshadowed by youthful exuberance and mutual curiosity of reckless abandon. Deeply in love with one another as only a brother and sister could be, touching and getting to know not only the other but ourselves in the process, with no life plan for a future in mind for the both of us. Had our courses remained without these tragedies that had followed, we might have charted a different path, each uniquely, instead of where we found ourselves. There are no regrets between the two of us with what had transpired in our hearts. My dear sister and I cannot fathom life without the other. It seemed that the universe played its trump card and for whatever meaning that there might be in these terrible deaths, these wonderful two people torn from our lives through violence, heartbreak, and self-centeredness, we might never distinguish its true meaning. A few short months combined with sorrow, an anguish that carried with it such power and sweeping dynamism that it changed our entire lives. As feeble humans, none would have the audacity to have conceived such a sublime and unspeakable act let alone carry out a transformation that redefined that very fabric of existence for two fledgling lovers. At times, we get a peek at the Grand Destiny, perchance a little prophecy seeps through, but as performers not architects. The day before the funeral, in an act of love and commitment between one another, we purchased two inexpensive gold bands that we wear even today. It is our statement to each other, a symbol of our endearing oath that each volunteered and swore, inscribed with three words: We are love.

The funeral arrangements were made, the massive marble headstone was to be moved between the graves of both our parents added with now the most recent memorial information, a message to both that they were missed with the deepest sense of loss and hopes of being reunited. The mortician toiled in his magic, the brand of ability that people find necessary but somehow disconcerting, closing and hiding the wound to our mother's lovely features, selected a casket that accented in death what glowed in life, and put on display for the mourning masses to whisper last respects and exclaim how well she appeared. A few final words said to those in attendance from surviving family and friends of remembrances, misfortune, and hopes unfulfilled. Then, as quickly as the services had begun, it was time to travel the path to internment and the final procession of our mother's last day in the sun.

Ashley and I carried through the final dignity of placing two roses to our father's three. We were now the last of our living generation. How would the Infinite explain the profound meaning of whatever holy plan was in play? Instead of our family growing in successive descendants that shared with the preceding, learning, and growing with their amassed wisdom, it was now two young and inexperienced lovers at life's threshold that stepped forth without the guidance and encouragement of the ones lost. Would we have the right to question and if we did, would we ever understand? At this moment, my existential beliefs were shaken for what I saw was chaos and cruelty that was not imbued with any particular meaning. Ashley's composure was rocked but her belief in a merciful overseer was as intact as ever. My simplified view envisioned two throws of the dice and both coming up snake-eyes. With the risk of being irreverent, if there was a purpose or intelligence to the universe then perhaps, we were nothing but common insects with no more a conscious thought to our random extermination as is a cockroach to us. Playthings to be manipulated, tortured, and cast aside at the gods' twisted pleasures. I tried to swallow the bitterness that I felt consuming my being from spilling over onto Ashley. She deserved better and without her, I would have been pushed and pulled into a self-destruct course of my own making. Her very love was reason enough to exist.

The reception at the family home was subdued; the prevailing emotions were of apprehension and a sudden urge to flee. It was almost as if the mourners could feel the evil tendrils that reached through the structure threatening to taint any who ventured inside except for the briefest of moments. Cold lightening had struck this unfortunate family twice in such a short span and while the deepest sympathies were expressed and believed, the gathering soon dispersed to their own lives with various incantations and superstitious utterings being pronounced to dispel the possibility of the same fortune. Ashley and I were relieved in some ways, the idea to host and entertain; to listen to the endless parade of guilt-driven banalities did little to alleviate the suffering but still, it was appreciated because it came with a sense of shared empathy and emotional heartache that is understood as part of the human condition. Aunt Kimberly was the last to leave. She talked softly to my angel with only a few words overheard, "My brother loved your mother so much. When he told me that he was to marry her, my heart was glad and wounded at the same time, with reluctance, I finally had to let him go." The words my aunt had spoken have caused me to ponder. With this small revealing, my aunt kissed my sweet sister's cheek and forehead, looked to me with a smile of shared understanding, and left for her flight back home.

I looked to Ashley's face, lips held tightly, eyes directed to my own, she nodded her head, looked at the displays of dishes that been brought and left. I shrugged my shoulders that twisted my features quickly when a grinding pain shot through my arm. I would endeavor to make a more resolute effort to not make such obvious moves with the injuries I had received. In unison, we began to clear the kitchen and island of the remains of uneaten food, store the unused portions in various plastic containers, and move the tableware, utensils, and reusable items to the dishwasher. We turned on the machine, poured into a pair of wine glasses with Merlot to relax, and joined each other's hand with fingers laced, moved to the front porch to feel the remaining rays of the Southern California sky bath down on upon us while we sat quietly next to each other in a swing built for two rocking away the incomprehensible heartache that trolled through us.

That night, neither of us felt like eating. We placed the emptied wine glasses on the kitchen counter and with Ashley in the lead, we gathered ourselves up the stairs into the hallway. She laid out some towels as I brushed my teeth, when I was done, turned on the shower and entered. Ashley followed suit and slipped in with me, shutting the glass door behind her. We let the warm water that cascaded over our bodies drench us while holding each other in an embrace, my head to her shoulder, and hers to my chest. We stood in that stimulating pose enhanced by the silken feeling that the purity of aquatic immersion provides, and began let our fingers touch, roam, and rediscover the eagerness of the other.

I reached for the body wash, dripped the liquid down Ashley's neck, over her back, over her incredible sexy ass, I circled my hands in the ever-gathering amount of slippery lather, caressing, washing, and creating the tingling sensation that starts at the surface but proceeds outwards from her own desire. I kneeled behind her, letting the interaction of the gel, water, and my softened hands glide down her legs, behind her knees, to her feet, and each individual toe. I moved in front of her, starting from her ankles, began to reverse myself, moving up the front of her legs, each muscle fiber visible underneath her delicate skin, to the front of her thighs, the softness of her sacral hair, onto her belly, to the navel, her breasts - mingled with tantalizing kisses, then her slender throat, all of her rewarded with delighted consideration, until I reached her face, and pushed back the wet and smooth golden hair, and finished with a mating of the lips while I held her against me, the suds slithering slowly down our bodies to the drain.

We made love that night, wet and warmed from the scintillating texture of mutual exposure.

In the morning, we awoke in each other's arms. The light from the dawn streaked through the window and lifted some of the webs of constricted sadness from the room. I had Ashley, my sweet angel of a sister, and during the night, while in the midst of mutual passion, somehow the gratefulness of this certainty reached my mind from my heart. I let my hands loom through her hair, untangling a fray or a loop, one hair at a time, careful not to hurt her but also, to allow the tender grooming to be an expression in itself. She laughed when she saw the messiness of my hair, brought her lips to mine and with great eagerness, an upbeat in heart, birthed the true smile of one that felt the cracks of joy break through what seemed an eternity of anguish. The house empty now except for two young lovers, we walked downstairs to the kitchen naked, hands locked in the other and steeped tea with honey for the daybreak brew.

The first genesis of a new time, our independent steps now strode together, both set of footprints visible in the sands of time, unwavering in their direction. Looking to the horizon and only glimpsing a called destination, but at least for the movement, was unified over the reaches of what was recognized, beckoning the both of us to follow. Ashley and I were lovers, a mated couple, sharing each and everything about what we were, are, and hope to be, as friends, and as fellow students at UCLA. Our majors were complimentary and not so dissimilar that there even existed the possibility that whatever path our ultimate careers might be, that they could exist in simultaneous harmony. We looked with hope to our first steps in the light.

Chapter XI, Evolution

Ashley and I were and always best friends, companions in life, lovers, and fellow students. We shared everything and more than most when compared to the more traditional configurations of what passed as normalcy. The one staid understanding that we had that surpassed customary acceptance of what was the considered the proper uncensored version of coupling is that in the truest sense; there was no agreement on what was the proper standard. From just one hour's perspective observing people gathered around the LA Metro Rail, the rich diversity of what worked for each lover's pairing ran the entire gamut of the rainbow. Besides men and women of approximately the same age and race, there were older men, older women, younger men, younger women, people of differing races, same sex, and same sex with divergent races, in fact, any possible combination that was available in world's immense diversity was represented in just one hour at a busy entrance of the subway. No doubt, we were not the only siblings that shared a mutual attraction, however, our magnetism was based on the full length of our lives, youthful exploration of each other's sexual and emotional makeup, salvation and commitment to the other that manifested itself as the mental willingness to let go of one's independence and bridge the gulf between the known and unknown, and ultimately with the physical act in itself, was the cement and salvation to sanity and truth.

Besides the redemption that we both needed and found within the other, the utter loneliness that can absolutely drive people into horrendous actions towards others or themselves was itself extinguished. For thousands of years, writers and philosophers, teachers and preachers have all tried to put in words what can only be communicated in emotion, that is, emotion was the only true form of understanding. We, Ashley my sister and my love, understood the other through our demonstrative connections. I suppose, although we were not in the strictest sense, true twins of the same soul. When thought, emotion, and act were all in congruency, when the realization that no power on this earth could succeed at keeping us separated, no moral authority with all its trapping and prognostications would matter one iota, the answer to the fundamental equation of our lives, that of a journey through this life and hopefully beyond as a merged entity became obvious: We had no choice, it was who we were.

If a person was to believe that a force of intelligent nature was behind all of this interaction and if that force was just and loving, it would stand to reason that what we shared, what others that were truly in love share, was the Designer's ambition and reflection that love must be allowed to exist, taken within, and then immediately shared with another. It would also seem to conclude the most intimate way to understand and praise that divine gift was the special solitude of two people together. It matters less how and with whom that event took place only that it does. So love was truly blind and devoid of any hierarchal set of rules, that was the human race's problems, or more specifically, the stodgy collection of opinions and official conducts created and forced upon the collective masses' behaviors to usurp individual power and the right to choose. Erstwhile, the population rolled over while this rape of liberty continued. It was not always the case. For centuries and somewhat in the United States until 1902, though this country was founded on as set of corrupted ideas from the very first day and just exchanged one set of prejudicial rules for another, the wisest writers never laid claim that they knew what formula that a pairing took place, only the universal truth that love that brought each player together was the only thing that mattered.

The opportunities of our youth, the friends we shared, the sheer amount of time spent together, the intimate conversations and tender acts of closeness, and ultimately through the tragedies we shared molded, kneaded, and stretched every aspect of our beings that the only comprehensible result was that Ashley and I would be forever in love and that love was founded on a layer of trust and granite faith that few would have experienced. The sense of relief that overwhelmed us that resulted from the understanding that our hearts had already achieved and knew our minds finally acknowledged in lockstep was liberating. The matured love that slowly found its way through the layers of our understanding provided a standard of structure that became the framework of just living in the day to day world. My dear sister and I needed to get down to work, to grieve our losses, to close the active chapter of our parents' existence and index them next to all the sweet memories of growing up while distancing ourselves from absolute pain of the present. We had to function, to address the requirements of the living, to understand and respond to legal codes, to deal with final estate issues, all the sometimes tedious examples of modern society with their high expectations of themselves or the work they created, and move on. We had to decide what we were going to do with the home that we shared so many years in and now, it was barely tolerable from the events of the recent past. It was a conversation that each component of the whole needed to brought into the open and decided jointly and equably so that the best possible outcome from the worst possible set of circumstances could be achieved. In all honesty, I had no idea of where we would go with this only that I trusted that the entity that emerged from the two of us, the gestalt of what both Ashley and I brought to the table, the combined synergy would ultimately lead us to the best answer. There was no absolute rush propelling us down any specific action, no attorneys pounded on the door, no phone calls from unscrupulous bill collectors harassing and haranguing us to make good on past debts, just the sense of urgency to conclude one set or another of decisions that life gave us no good choice but to make them and go forward.

In short, the two us despite our tender ages, would have to make choices that would lead us to our own evolution from this point on. It was not a task that we overtly welcomed but simply life demanding the attention of its adherents to move forward in the scheme of what laid before us. Fairness is not something that can be understood at the level that we existed; it is just so much simpler to accept the effect rather than to contemplate the deeper concept of cause. We recognized that unlike most of our peers, the decisions that we must now make revolved around the two of us as one and for whatever good that resided in that or what as of yet undefined difficulties that might be resulted from our decision to live life bonded in mind and soul, we had accepted without reservation that life would unfold now as a mutual destiny instead of disparaging singular paths. Perhaps fate does allow for a decision or two made at the human level. What was reflected in our psyches is that we allowed love to germinate between the two of us, that it was accepted and assimilated, and from this point had taken on its own purpose. Mystical to be sure, but nothing to fear as it gave infinitely more than it demanded. We had finally begun to heal, something that Ashley and I are quite convinced could not have happened in absence of each other. As a patient needs a physician, a love needs another for without it, the giving and sharing of that hallowed flow of energy just cannot exist.

Chapter XII, Fall Forward

Fall Quarter at UCLA arrived for both my sister and I rather rapidly. It seemed that we had barely the time to bid our farewells to both of our parents and solidify something of normality between the two of us. However, it was also welcomed in that the routine that it represented would challenge our minds and in its course, gain some sense of closure that we desperately needed. UCLA is unique in that as a University on a quarter system, students tend to take fewer classes due to its faster pace but also to think in terms of weeks instead of quarters. Hence, at week four, students are in the throes of midterms and in week ten, finals. The faster pace also minimized the endurance necessary to tolerate certain professors' personalities that did not exactly inspire confidence or wakefulness. Like all solid institutions of higher learning, there are a steadfast percentage of faculty slots reserved for the mundane. Ashley was an exception, of course, to the normal. While an ordinary course-load might be three of four classes, my sister insisted on six to eight every quarter and with great accomplishment. She never seemed to be unduly pressured and managed to have ample time to share with me or our friends and peers that we associated with. Even the volume of books that was required of her, she never needed to bring home any more than me. While she never boasted of her academic abilities, the amazement she garnered in not only her brother's and peers' eyes was also shared by her admiring mentors.

Both of us studied to the best of our academic gifts, not only for the achievement and standing, but also in the desperate attempt at garnering at least one day a week in which we were not confined to the screens of computers but to allow ourselves a day of rest and enjoyment. In our case, the singular day blessed to us alone participated in extended passionate physical love as well as the chance meeting with friends for dinner or amusement. Over breaks, a drive to Napa Valley or Sonoma gave us a romantic interlude in an otherwise hectic schedule. A walk through the picturesque town of Carmel or Sausalito examining the paintings and creations of the local artisans and maybe a side-trip to marvel at the majestic form of the local sea otters in Monterey gave an emotional respite to the weary minds of students fatigued with calculations. Other times, a simple dinner and drinks with our fellow students who were often our friends from our childhood as well caused us both to feel a belonging that once was centered over our extinguished family.

During evenings and weekends at campus, we often took in an event at the Pauley Pavilion or an exciting Pac 12 football game. Simply put, we had opportunities that only a big city like Los Angeles could provide and both Ashley and I would take whatever advantage that we could whenever the call of our books receded that allowed us time to be young and free. Even as a committed couple fully in the arms of love, we still dated then as now. Living in each moment, experiencing the events, the sensations, the experiences of the world around us as well as each other gave us the ability to create mutual lifelong memories that define us. To fully appreciate the gift of life never wishing to retreat from the other but to embrace each opportunity and to continually build a foundation and a intertwined destiny of happiness in its rewarding spiritual, emotional, and physical embrace. We lived in an environment of continual learning about the other; growing closer and nearer with the passing hour. It was like we both existed as separate matrices with each intersection of the lattice molding and expanding to match exactly to the other so that both could overlay equally. At each juncture, the combination would create with twice the energy giving rise to a third entity of greater strength and endurance than either one of us alone could ever hope to achieve. We fully accepted our love and the exploration of it demanded an eternity to explore.

My sister and I, ever since our childhood, were extremely close to a group of perhaps ten friends. We ran together, laughed together, graduated through our classes at the same school, and were incredibly close from a very early age. Of those ten, six were now in college with us and that group expanded with their associations of various relationships that they were engaged in. I say six but maybe seven, Derek was sort of an outsider of our group, pathologically shy at times, but I suppose out of pity we always included him whenever he was around. As we grew older, he became a bit more open and spent more time with us but never the amount of the original group. He, too, was at the same university of our original six and as such, we made him feel as welcomed as his introverted personality would allow. For some unavailable reason, he could never gaze directly at Ashley but always seemed to mumble his words to her by speaking directly to the ground. The shyness was heartbreaking to my sister's sense of compassion and she would endeavor to make him feel more comfortable around her. At times, she would make introductions to this female friend or acquaintance in an effort to find common ground and a companion that would thaw the walls of his inhibitions only to thwart her efforts by his paralyzing bashfulness. My sister never gave up hope and continued to make introductions to others while including him in our impromptu activities. When Derek actually found the innate courage to suspend his anxieties somewhat, he was always courteous even though extremely quiet, and seemed to appreciate the opportunity to be included. To the astonishment of most is that he was also a gifted athlete in his own right playing baseball for as long as we have known him including, now, for UCLA. As an outstanding catcher with a power swing and an enormous arm, it was somewhat confusing to see such a competitor on the field and the demure person in public. Nor was his family particularly any different than most, his father was an on-going man that loved fishing, his mother was the neighborhood gossip, and while Derek was an only child, there was never an indication of mistreatment or abuse on the part of his parents or the neighborhood kids. Derek was just Derek and how some people's personalities develop is often a mystery to others that seemingly have known them most of their lives.

A simple evening's affair might entail eight of us, nine if Derek came, and their assorted girlfriends/boyfriends of the time to dinner at a local restaurant, bowling, a sporting event, or occasionally, an invitation to our house for a home cooked meal, wine, and conversation. The warmer days might be spent at Zuma Beach enjoying the surf and working on a perpetual tan. A pickup game of volleyball might ensue, anything to bring laugher and joy to a bunch of college kids trying their best to enjoy life with whatever funds that was available to cash-strapped students on a budget. Both my sister and I were in better circumstances financially the most of our friends but we lived modestly with goals and thoughts foremost in my sister's sweet mind. Still, if one of our closest friends was presented the choice of not being able to participate in a gathering because of money issues, the group would always find a way to share what we had and include them in.

During winter break and on Christmas Eve, we had about twenty people at the house including Derek. We exchanged gifts chosen at random from numbers in an old top hat that was lying about and everyone made something to pass except Ashley. My sister made a spread that would be the envy of the Savoy and had started the task two days beforehand with my contribution being mainly staying out of her way and running errands. The front of the house was decorated with the requisite Christmas lights, artificial snow, and a sleigh with wrapped packages placed in a red velvet bag in back of a fat jolly Santa Claus equipped with his own internal lighting. The windows were sprayed with canned frost with an electric candle in each and cardboard candy canes festively displayed to impart the impression as best as we could that it was much less than the 72 degrees the thermometer read. Still, with four palm trees in the front, it would take a fair stretch of the imagination to think that we lived anywhere near the North Pole. Though, for my sweet sister and to a lesser extent I Christmas was about the spirit and not the locale. Inside, we had a completely decorated live fir with all the decorations to celebrate the moment when brotherhood and joy are supposed to descend upon mankind. After the first, I would take the tree and plant it in the Angeles National Forest.

The joyful event continued to about midnight when it started to break up. We wished everyone a fond and wonderful Christmas this day and to our surprise, Derek was last to leave. He offered to help clean up and while that was welcomed, my sister and I decided that except with what had to be refrigerated immediately, everything else could wait till the morning. Besides, there was not all the much to do since we employed disposable plates and cutlery wherever possible. We had picked up most of the wrapping paper and made what we could orderly as the night progressed. We thanked him and Ashley walked him to the door. Ashley gently grasped both of Derek's hands, said something to him, and as he bent over, she kissed his cheek and whispered a Merry Christmas to him. Derek recoiled slightly from the contact and with a strange look upon his face, left mumbling something inaudible. Ashley shook her head for a second and walked towards the kitchen to help finish what I had started in terms of our final chores for the night. After we had turned off the lights on the first floor, leaving on the lights to the tree and decorations outdoors, Ashley engaged me with her seductive smile, "Do you want to unwrap your Christmas present now?"

We gathered each other in our arms and made our way up to the room that became our fortress and symbol of hope of better days to come.

Chapter XIII, The Last Year of California

The days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months, finally into years. Our undergraduate years were being consumed by the every quickening pace of time with Ashley desperate to complete her studies and graduate at the sometime as I. I managed to be able to take summers completely off, working various co-op positions that were offered by local employers in the areas of science, chemistry, and biology. Not so for Ashley. While her course-load was reduced to a more sane level, taking three courses on average to her accustomed six to eight, she was nevertheless determined to eradicate the differences in scholastic years between her brother and herself. Often, I would question my dear love on what was consuming her with such urgency, that neither of us were going anywhere without the other, so why the formidable rush? Her response was simply that she had a plan in mind and that there would never be a differing set of years between us both ever again.

At times, in the deepest recesses of my mind, a thought would populate the area of the subconscious responsible for bringing seemingly unrelated information together and developed a correlation and proposed motive to all this action and reaction. Even as preposterous at it sounded to me at the time, that my sister had been manipulating and responding to life's events from early childhood, it was as if she conducted the complete orchestra of not only her life but mine as well, together in a harmony created solely by her. As I traced through past events, my mind would perplex in the seemingly endless moves and countermoves that would be required of any individual, even as someone as bright as my Ashley, to be able to knowingly comprehend the strategies and outcomes of her desires. As quickly as those thoughts had made their appearance, they would begin to lose consistency and all I could do was watch them drift away in wonder. Was Ashley really that brilliant that she could achieve her heart's longing, or even know what her soul craved from the time of early childhood? As deeply as I loved her, knowing life would hold no meaning for me without her, to have someone that could change the circumstances of existence's game so that we both merged into the other and seeing how incredibly feminine that she was while understanding the strength that she possessed coupled with incredible brilliance that I could only guess at, I was overtaken by such gratitude that I felt myself drifting into a state of being that only can be described as a transfiguration of existence. Ashley obviously knew something that I did not comprehend but the trust and love I felt for her overrode any objection that would have surfaced under more average events.

UC Los Angeles is definitely not UC Berkley but it still has pride in being a reasonably liberal California institute of higher education. As such, governmental interference in the pursuit of art or ideas is as likely to be protested at UCLA as it is any other bastion of higher learning. In our senior year, both now that Ashley had reached her goal to graduate simultaneously with me, the 'unofficial' censors of Congress exerted undue pressure on various financial and banking establishments that if they continued to process purchases of written media that conflicted with the interests of free society, meaning exactly the dictates of what Congress considered acceptable, then certain regulatory and legal pressures would be applied. Ashley, I, and our friends and student colleagues are continually amazed not only at the gall of our politicians in general but the incredulous fact that the unconstitutional exertion placed on a democratic society ruled by permission of the people can actually think that what they do behind closed doors can remain secret for any length of time. Specifically, Pay Pal and others that complete transactions of books and materials from various vendors such as Amazon were to be hamstrung if their customers wanted to purchase material deemed offensive. Books depicting sex with vampires, most likely by the popularity of the genre, were tolerable but not so if the offending creature was a werewolf, shape-shifter, or alien. In addition, anything that represented incest was absolutely verboten despite the fact that Lolita was considered to be among the top one hundred novels written in the twentieth century. This, of course, incensed Ashley to no end. Her lovely and compassionate nature was completely overwhelmed by any interference in how two people should love each other. Balancing out her activist nature over implied censorship was the unpretentious reality that only a very few and absolutely trusted friends knew of our complete unbending devotion to each other. In the State of California, incest is still illegal but not often enforced between two consenting adults. However, we were not ready to challenge the legal standing; we wanted to be left alone. Ashley began to think.

A note to the peer review team, I based the above paragraph on true events and facts that can be readily checked out. In addition, it is my assumption that as you read, you are beginning to see where I placed the hooks for the manuscript to build the complex subplots and characterizations I have in mind. In addition, if another novel is to be written, the exact point has been revealed for the idea of a duology linking the two parts. I have not determined if a series of unrelated Confession novels would be a good idea or not. Something that my deranged mind contemplates!

As any good university with a population in excess of 40,000 students, a protest is often seen as a unwilling liaison between students genuinely concerned over a governmental infringement issues, others that see the opportunity to cause trouble for the thrill of the attempt, and mostly, an excuse to break the monotony and routine of college life to party while pretending to be offended. Ashley was definitely in the former group while I, to be honest, straddled the groups of concerned protestors and the celebratory crowd. It was our senior year, after all, and the inevitable decompression that occurs towards the end of a four year journey when a person finally realizes the endless hours of study, concentration, and educational immersion were reaching their logical conclusions. These overt attempts by the leadership in the country to dictate societal ethics were taken with a particularly harsh tone within the departments of the various literary groups and of scientific research. A normally unusual alliance but considering the previous bans on stem cell research and the abolishment of any real manned space program, there was a certain affinity that developed between the two unlike disciplines. The protests resulted in few arrests and little damage except to the brain cells that were under chemical duress. My sweet sister was understandably disappointed in my apparent lack of complete enthusiasm but she was accommodating nonetheless. She wholly understood that my motives were that of a person reaching the end of a long journey and not that I believed the cause was not just.

Ashley and I began to have deep and meaningful conversations as to what we wanted to do post-graduation besides continue with the love that had forever captured us both. We had both majored in natural sciences and performed quite well. Opportunities began to avail themselves to us and were quite substantial. We discussed continuing on with our education, possible becoming professors ourselves, medical school, or working in corporate research. Ashley seemed to be completely interested in all of my ideas and suggestions but she gradually steered the conversations towards, yes doctors of a sort, but doctors of veterinary medicine. Her natural affinity for all living creatures first manifested itself as child still running in diapers where every animal in the neighborhood would be drawn to that golden girl. I had to admit, my love for animals was deeply profound, but just like everything that I seemed to do when compared to my love; I was just a duller mirror of what her perfection represented. I was interested in what she was driving towards but when asked where she would like to attend, her opinion changed to a statement: Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. An Ivy League school 3,000 miles away from the sun, sand, and surf that we had grown up to love and know was about as far away to me as the moon itself. Sure, we had traveled around the country, mostly on the West Coast, but New York? Ashley then suggested it was time to sell the family home to not only fund our future educations and perhaps buy something quaint just for the two of us but to finally give us the new start that our hearts yearned for, the two of us setting out as adults and newly minted graduates on our life's adventure. That feeling of impending manipulation was beginning to tickle at my subconscious again but like before, to argue with Ashley who seemed to know me better than I myself was something that ultimately that would be relegated into oblivion by an act of acceptance in her good judgment. I agreed that we would at least begin the application process.

Our senior year, like the years before, was shared with our closest friends. Each one excited to tell of prospects, opportunities offered, and impending nuptials between long-term relationships. This was a time to be happy, to celebrate each other's hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Even Derek seemed to come more alive and open during this time but occasionally, alcohol consumption contributed to some bizarre behavior, at least for Derek. At times, if Derek imbibed sufficiently, he would exhibit an arrogance that he never showed completely sober. He began to communicate without his customary courtesy, especially towards women and occasionally, even Ashley. This new phenomenon was such a gradual decline that throughout his college tenure, it went largely unnoticed or uncommented upon. Mostly, it was ignored and tolerated because the group to the person, except for Ashley, had at one time or another slipped the bounds of good etiquette, had too much to drink, and created circumstances for themselves that were largely out of character and deeply regretted. As Derek did not spend a great deal of time with us as did the members of the inner circle, it never occurred to us what he might be doing during those periods where he was left to himself or with other people such as his fellow ball players. We were all focused on our respective graduations and mostly concerned ourselves with what the potential future might hold.

The day of commencement for the College of Letters and Science held at Drake Stadium was a crisp, beautiful, warm, and wonderful day with the skies as blue as the nearby Pacific. Ashley had gone to the salon a day before having her hair teased with great care and finesse, her nails manicured, a deep body massage and treatment that made her look absolutely radiant. The personal attention allowed her to relax and become completely free of stress from the incredible workload that she had endured to reach this day. She carefully applied what little makeup that she wore and I opined that she never needed, and dressed in a beautiful summer dress that swept away my breath. We were so excited that I was concerned that somehow we would become distracted while driving back to campus and end up getting lost and confused on our way to our own graduation. This was our day, a day where the both of us labored so hard for, a day where the two of us would be able to provide the day to the other, a day missed by both of our parents. Again, the feeling that Ashley knew exactly what she was doing, why perhaps she worked so hard to reach the same graduation, to be able to give and receive something that was taken away by the tragic workings of fate. Had Ashley done this so that we would not feel so much like the orphans that we were? Only Providence and my sweet sister knew for sure and neither felt like admitting anything of the kind to a mere mortal as myself. The building of anticipation, the climax of the entire ordeal, and suddenly, it was all over; completed. I am sure that the sense of finality, of the end achievement, is not near as exciting and the steps leading to it, it seems that there is only one true orgasm in life despite the celebrations of the carefully marked phases in life. The truth of the matter is that life does continue and where one crowning glory ends another one begins. It is not to say that we did not revel in our success, it was just a fact of life. The only event that grows in our lives, that has nothing but another second or day of anticipation followed by another is the days we have between ourselves. That growing bond is its own reward. As the dean called our names and bestowed our baccalaureate of science degrees upon my dearest love and me, we stepped off the platform to the cheers of our classmates, to a graduation party, and then onto life itself. We were heading to New York in the autumn.

Chapter XIV, Evil Reaches Out - The Final Confrontation

With all the celebrations crossing widely over the campus, it went without conscious notice that Derek was enjoying his own special moment in the sun. Not only had he graduated from a prestigious national university with a degree in exercise physiology, he was a known baseball player across the country with several Major League Baseball scouts vying for his significant talents. Unlike a recent high school player being drafted into the baseball's farm system, Derek had competed at a sufficiently high level that the majors themselves were interested in his talents immediately and were willing to put that faith in him in the form of a contract, lucrative salary, and a tremendous signing bonus. Derek had finally reached a pinnacle in his own right that had seen him play thousands of games with the constant practice and years of investment that it takes to make an elite athlete. His four years at UCLA molded and shaped him, doused his bricked-in personality, and had pulled him into the rarified air of the gifted. With the constant attention bestowed on him by his fellow players over the years, coaches, family, and a following of diehard fans, Derek had come full circle in his own opinion of himself and began to think in terms of what life owed him instead of the opportunities that were bestowed upon him. He was moving towards a belief system where the world would pay homage to his desires and company. It was his understanding that now he could have anything that he wished and that desire was fueled to an excess whenever he consumed alcohol. Derek would have whatever his heart wanted because society had told him that the world belonged to him alone and he assumed every word.

After what seemed to be days of festivities, with each close friend hosting their own version of merriment centered squarely over the relief that a process started without absolute assurance that the end would be one of successful conclusion, Ashley and I were able to begin the arduous task of listing our childhood home with the realtors and facing the long put-off efforts of examining, keeping, or tossing the collections of a lifetime of the four people that had resided together as a family for those incredible years and times of heart wrenching tragedy. We had not entered our parents' bedroom since the final night of our mother's life. The door had been sealed with what seemed to be a curse to keep the memories of the past from seeping out into the rest of the house. Now, we faced the upending emotions that were determined to summon the bygone years once more. What ghosts would emerge through the dust and gloom that had been concealed from our view during the years of academia? Would we be able to complete the tasks set before us without being consumed in a spiraling sense of disaster that had taken away our previous incarnations? The thought that somehow we would be able to save some of the relics of our parents' in an attempt to keep the happier moments alive while moving from the senseless loss, insanity, and violence that were equally present within the inanimate belongings motivated us to focus on what was good and right of our younger years and forgive the actions that resulted in our family's loss. In each of our minds, we whispered to them of our accomplishments, the love that we shared, and our hopes for the future as yet unfolding. Perhaps, their souls had found relief in the embrace of a heaven that was infinitely more forgiving that I was capable of experiencing. Their pains washed away with the brilliant light of love descending down to hold and embrace each one of them, to say that everything will be okay, that both of them are welcomed to the home of the Source. The door was opened and the room revealed.

Strangely, there had been very little dust accumulated over the furnishings. The bed was still made and all the evidence of the violence that once rolled through this very room had been removed. The rays of the sun reached through the gauze-like fabric of the drapery and illuminated the room not in a dank and dismal sort of way but with a sort of hope and lightness that comes from the star at the center of our little edge in the universe. Ashley and I drifted from one corner of the room to the other, pulling information into the senses, feeling with our emotions, setting the direction and the initial steps that would be translated into movement and work. We settled with the walk-in closet first as it seemed that this rather feeble attempt to come to grips with enormity that befell us would compel an energy and purpose that would ultimately expand throughout the entire dwelling. We had carried upstairs a few dozen cardboard boxes bought at the local U-Haul store along with the various tools and marking accessories needed to set upon the work at hand. It was determined that the clothes universally would be donated to the local Salvation Army along with most of the furniture keeping only what was necessary and needed to start our lives anew. At first, we sluggishly attempted to do what was at hand but slowly, the labor itself began to reinvigorate the both of us so that we found we were able to accomplish a great deal in not an inordinate amount of time. Still, these were our parents' possessions and we handled them with the reverence and respect that they deserved.

The smaller items, belongings of a very personal nature that had an emotional significance to our mother and father, these articles were more charged than something as humble as clothes or furnishings. Each one would have to be examined from our deepest recesses of our personal connection and determined if they move forward in time with us as kind remembrances of our parents' days on earth. Something like a set of earrings that were worn during a family night out, birthday, or attendance at an event brought back the whirlwind of memories and their associated distinctive emotional contexts. With each knick-knack, a conscious decision was brought to bear on its final fate. Nor did the actual resolution need a consensus between the two of us, just one whose view of a previous era made the article worthwhile in their own mind. We were finding with some relief that what we thought was precious and indispensable were just small tokens invoking sentiments of nostalgia and a desire to bring these imbedded feelings with us to New York. As we stepped transversely throughout the bedroom, we began to feel somewhat more at ease with the prospect of actually finishing what we had started emerged in our thoughts.

Ashley and I continued throughout the day accomplishing what we had laid out before us making a note to settle with an appointment date when the trucks and men could carry out what we could not. As the week progressed, more of the upstairs living areas were reduced to cartons brought for delivery, pickup, or as recollections to find a new life and attachment to the heirs of the previous owners. Our bedroom would be the last of the household to be compacted in this manner as we closed on the date of our move to an area of the country that was previously unknown. Ashley and I had been to New York during the acceptance process and now, we had tickets in hand to fly once more to pick out a residence of our own, hopefully, on Cayuga Lake. The town had a charming stature and seemed to be quiet without the hurriedness of Los Angeles. We were looking forward to our first fall in an area known for its vibrant colors of autumn. Of course, we had both heard Bing Crosby's rendition of A White Christmas but neither Ashley nor I had ever experienced anything more than the occasional lonely snowflake that sometimes falls in Southern California. These new experiences were looked forward by both my dear love and me. It seemed that Cornell University lived an idyllic existence and we welcomed the respite.

The worked progressed steadily, quickly compartmenting the home to stacks of boxes and other belongings slated for charity. We left unpacked only the barest of necessities needed to maintain our livelihood while trying in earnest to complete most of the tasks earlier than what we had anticipated. Our home received a firm offer that was accepted and now, we desired to be free of the Wellstone of a different time. In a few weeks, we wanted to have a residence decided upon in New York with a move date as soon as it was possible. From the disparity of property values between the two coasts and the settlements of the insurance claims, we were pleasantly surprised that our nest egg would not only pay for the entire tuition for us both but our next abode and whatever needs that we had for the foreseeable future.

One late afternoon, my love and I received a phone call from a couple of friends inviting us out to dinner and drinks that evening. As was my custom, I asked Ashley as I would if dating, if she would like to take a few minutes away from our chores and relax with some dear people that we might not see for quite some time. Ashley, like anyone else, looked forward to some solitude to reflect on her thoughts in her own privacy but insisted that I take the opportunity to be entertained with light conversation. I kissed my dear sister with heartfelt passion and promised her that I would not be late. Ashley smiled and reached deep searching with the blueness of her eyes and seemingly content with my answer held my hand as she moved us both upstairs. We made love in the lazy afternoon sun finding relief and establishing the ever growing bonds of our love.

At seven that evening, I headed out to the scheduled rendezvous with our friends at a nearby restaurant. I noticed that I was vacillating between the desire to find some relaxation amongst friends and my truer compulsion to bow out of my commitment and just pass the time with Ashley. I never tired of being in the presence of my precious sibling even if not a word passed our lips. I felt much more alive and complete by being near her and for some reason, any distance, no matter how trivial the actual linear expanse might be, it was as if the available energy within the quintessence of myself would begin to deplete. Of course, as a person of science, I had a difficult time grasping and believing anything that represented the lines along the metaphysical, but established dictums tended to blur when Ashley was involved. My sister's acute sense of awareness was always roaming the airwaves as she pushed against my chest forcing me to the front entrance. With a passionate kiss, she reached for the handle and opened the door. With a sigh formulated in the depths of affection, I determined it was time for me to leave.

I arrived at Sprazzo around seven-thirty with most of the cast of the night already assembled. The establishment is noted for its seafood, Italian cuisine, and a fine wine selection. So near the campus, we had often as a group passed many happy hours just talking and being in one another's company. I was questioned about Ashley and I made the apologies that she desired to do some reflection and introspection due to our impending relocation. I promised that we would all get together before that actual day; it was just that her emotions needed to find their way to accept what her mind had decided. Our friends easily accepted the explanation despite being somewhat disappointed but the night progressed lightly forward. We talked, laughed, drank some wine, ordered our food, and continued with the humorous banter and reflections of longtime friends. At ten that night I felt sickened, a feeling of absolute dread had overcome me. There had been no calls to the cell phone, no paging of my name, nothing to indicate my current state of affairs. I knew that I had to leave; my response was to get back to Ashley as fast as humanly possible. I began to sweat profusely, my heart raced, I felt panicked, and something had overtaken any sense of logic and possessed me of a violent motive. Our friends quickly noticed my current outward appearance and inquired as to what was wrong. I quickly stood up and placed a hundred dollars down on the table and said with deep and escalating conviction, "Ashley, something is wrong, I have to get back to her!"

The people stared at me in state of surprised shock but without judgment and collectively said, "Go" that they would be ready to assist if necessary. I ran to the car with a sense of expediency and tore from the parking lot with tires spinning of smoke.

Ashley closed the door behind her love and settled down with a glass of Cabernet and a novel pertaining to some romantic comedy. She smiled inwardly thinking of the affection she felt despite all the misfortunes of her young life and the long conversations that she had had with Aunt Kimberly. She had taken her Aunt's advice and wisdom into her child's heart and created a world of love while avoiding the mistakes and pitfalls that had plagued her Aunt's own path. Indeed, Ashley had designed and orchestrated much that had transpired between her sibling and herself but also had a willing co-conspirator that provided valuable advice on her planned future. Of course, her brother was completely out of the loop and it was probably more of a condition of being male and not so much that her own brother was lacking in intelligence. Ashley thought of how focused with precision her lover could be and that was an asset to be sure but she possessed the ability to think in terms of the larger environment, to follow several threads at once, and to understand the interactions of multiple subtleties, while she continued to refine and respond to life's uncertainties. She giggled to herself thinking that her life's companion never had a chance but she also knew that her brother loved her from the time of her first breath. So, it was not exactly manipulation per se, Ashley just helped along the lines of the inevitable. She was also deeply in love with her brother from the very first thoughts that she could remember as a child. While not exactly a fairytale, what reality truly is, it was as close to perfection as two humans could enjoy. The purity in understanding was that if something that carried the utmost and blessed value, it took work, commitment, and belief to simultaneously come into joint synchronization. Waiting for desire while wishing and hoping it into fruition would not make it come to pass. A person had to become an active participant in Creation along with the seeds that the Universe graciously provided. The parables of sacred texts from a variety of sources were so lost on her brother but he had the beginnings of faith and in time, it would seize him as well.

Ashley settled into her book while a feeling of deep contentment and joy spread through her. She was deeply into the plot, lost in the story, when she heard a knock and then a ring from the doorbell. She wondered who would be calling at 9:30 at night, not late by any standards, but there was no one that indicated that they would be visiting this day. Still, people did show up unannounced, especially young people and recently graduated college students. The, 'I was in the neighborhood' effect was pronounced among close friends and fellow learners agonizing over another midterm or final and often as not, would come to Ashley or even her brother for extracurricular help. This being summer, it was most likely a lonely friend or one expressing their sense of lost with the upcoming move. Ashley set down the book and moved towards the door.

Derek had been out drinking with his friends and fellow athletes. They had stopped in various bars around the UCLA campus settling on one that had a fairly raucous atmosphere with women from the campus that enjoyed a more risqué setting. Picking up the occasional stray for the night was not rare or unheard of in this establishment, the only rules were money, reasonably good looking, and set of lies told as the story of the night. No one was under the illusion that the play was not understood and if a person ambled in without foreknowledge, it quickly became apparent to them. Derek had money in ample amounts, he need not fabricate because recent events made a better story, and he was inebriated, not completely drunk, but enough that the normal filter between mouth and brain was quickly becoming disengaged. Several women flocked around Derek's group espousing possibilities for the night but internally, Derek was beginning to grow angry. Feeding that sense of hostility was the self-righteousness he felt towards anything that he desired that should be his without question. After several more drinks at the well of Bacchus and the urging of his pals, Derek decided it was time to do something about a craving and longing that he had since he was a child. The Great Derek, hero of the UCLA baseball team, left the bar with a singular determination. He sidetracked just for a few moments from his lust to purchase a bottle of wine from a local grocery store, and then once again, drove erratically towards his destination.

Derek noticed that the car was gone from the driveway and his heart plummeted as his pulled in. As he was about to leave, he noticed movement inside and a tremendous relief swept over him. He could just make out that it was Ashley. Her brother was not there. A purpose was being developed in his mind and a wicked perception was beginning to grip his motives.

Ashley reached for the door and there before her, standing a foot from the entrance appearing somewhat disheveled with a bottle of wine in his right hand and the other in his pocket, was Derek smiling a grin that bordered on a smirk. In his mind he exuded confidence fueled by alcoholic courage. He raised the bottle of wine and said, "I was in the neighborhood."

Stunned, Ashley was about to speak when Derek interjected, "I have some incredible news I wanted to share and what better person than the one who showed me all that kindness over the years!"

Ashley scanned over the image of Derek noticing his behavior was slightly impaired but he seemed to be genuinely cheerful that she relented against a murmuring that had begun deep within her subconscious. She invited him in and asked him to sit down on the only available furnishing left in the living room, an old sofa scheduled to be donated in a day or so. It had crossed Ashley's mind to call her brother but decided to put it aside, silly really, let him have a few moments of pleasure with their friends and surely, a glass of wine would not hurt and she really was interested in this great news that Derek wanted to impart. She glanced back at Derek and then walked into the kitchen to retrieve two wine glasses and a cork puller. She handed the device to Derek and placed the glasses on the coffee table that was situated directly in front of them giving Derek somewhat a wider berth than if he was one of their more intimate friends. Ashley sat down and watched Derek fumble with the foil wrapped around the neck of the bottle but after a moment had it removed. He attempted to place the corkscrew in the center of the mouth, slipped, and tried once more. Ashley held out her hand and Derek relieved himself of the responsibility of further efforts handed the wine over to Ashley's expert skills. She quickly and deftly opened the bottle and poured a third full of wine for each. "Now, tell me Derek, what is this wonderful news?"

Derek lifted up his wine glass and held it out to Ashley as a toast, after the clink and a quick sip; he stared intently into Ashley's sapphire poise, and muttered, "I was offered a contract with the Angels." Ashley squeaked with delight and relief that perhaps her suspicions were unfounded. Maybe, Derek really wanted to convey something special to him with another that he considered a friend. She found herself somewhat chagrined for the ill feelings that had begun to overtake her but quickly brushed them aside with this revelation. "I am so happy for you Derek" and before she had consciously became aware of her actions, she hugged him for just a few seconds. Embarrassed, she retreated to her previous place and gazed towards her feet before looking back at him.

Emboldened by this latest development, Derek began to construct what he wanted to say to her next. Yes, this was the time that he would pull out the stops and win over the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen. From childhood, observing at a distance, he had secretly obsessed over Ashley. His fantasies displaced away reality, seeing himself as her lover, her hero, and her master. In his mind, she would serve him; stand in awe of his presence, while submitting to whatever his desires that were his alone. The bridge between the knowing what was real and what was created was beginning to fade. His mind sopped with drink and years of an illusionary world where he lived had forced a shift in perception to take place. He began, "Ashley, I am going to make a lot of money and probably be famous someday soon." The sentence designed to swoon the weaker sex and their obvious attraction to material wealth brought to acceptance of mind from the countless subpar themes in various movies and television programs. If Hollywood thought it important to spend countless hours exploring the subject, there must be some truth to the matter.

Ashley tilted her head slightly without knowing the true intentions of where he intended to go said earnestly, "I am so happy for you Derek, I will be your number one fan!"

Derek lowered his voice, not the speech of someone shy around members of the opposite sex but as someone who was capable of malevolent intent, "I want more."

Ashley's eyes widened, "I don't understand."

Derek turned fully to face her, to dominate not only the conversation but the terminus as well, to succeed at his fantasy and win the goal, "I have been watching you all my life, loving you from afar, waiting for a chance to say how I feel, trying to excel so that you would notice, and now I have earned that respect, I need more than to be considered some off-handed acquaintance that was pitied. I DESERVE more." Ashley studied him for a long moment, anxiety began to grip her, and she wondered at her response, began to wish she had gone with her brother or demanded he stay with her. She thought carefully and thoughtfully going over her response so that not to further exacerbate the situation. She said gently, "I am flattered Derek but I am already committed and am moving from California in a few weeks."

Dumbfounded as if someone had delivered a blow to his midsection, Derek sat idly looking directly at Ashley and slowly lowering his eyes down her body, his vision accepting every nuance and every detail honed from years of following small spheres traveling at great velocity, sliding down her arms to her hands. Not her hands, the hand, the left one, the one with a gold band. The same damn hand that her brother also wore a ring, exactly the same kind. The eureka effect fully developed, the lights igniting in the recesses of his consciousness, and the sickening realization that after all these years, the vast amount of peculiar behavior between the two, never seeing her date anyone else but always in the company of her brother, the absolute inseparability of brother and sister lashed together was the impetus to drive Derek into a rage of jealousy and torn fantasies that he came apart. He screamed, "You and your brother, what kind of sick bitch are you!?"

Ashley quickly backed away, "It is time for you to leave."

Derek's tremendous wrath and resentment launched full force. He stood up to his full frame and with a look of absolute disgust, "How could you do something so perverted?"

"It is none of your business; you wouldn't understand anything about the love between us, just go and live your own life." Ashley began to sight the room for anything that she could use in her defense. As she backed away she suddenly stumbled against a packed box on the floor. The delay was all Derek needed as he picked up the wine bottle and threw it directly at her head. Years of conditioned response were recalled and the container shattered against the left side of her temple knocking her to the ground in a daze; blood trickling out onto her blonde ringlets. The blow was glancing being contained and minimized from the joint impact to brow and the corner of a wall. The bottle exploded sending shards of glass and wine in all directions. He covered the distance between the two of them in seconds grabbing the front of her blouse in his hands. "No, you bitch" he thought, "You belong to me." With that, he yanked her to her feet and picked her up in his arms. He looked to the stairway and began to climb with Ashley slipping in and out of consciousness. In a second of coherency she fought with her attacker and with another passed into pitch of blackness. Derek reached the top of the landing and finding an open door, walked into the room, and threw Ashley upon the bed. The final confrontation with evil had begun.

Chapter XV, Insanity of Grief

With blood dripping down Ashley's face, Derek ripped at her clothes. In his mind, he had claimed her as his property and therefore entitled to consummate his covetousness towards her in any way that he desired. He was in control and this had always been his destiny. She would understand and accept him afterwards. With women, sometimes a little assertive behavior was all that was needed. He would be the bigger man with her brother, explaining graciously that in the jungle, sometimes the larger cat wins. Right now, he was the apex predator and Ashley his beautiful prey. As Ashley fought to gain her senses, to realize what had happened to her, an instinct to defend and attack her assailant gripped her. Her garments had been shredded leaving only her panties fully intact. She flipped to her knees and attacked with a viciousness that only a rape victim can fully comprehend, nearly blinding Derek with an assault to the left side of his face that ripped and gouged from the lower part of his eye socket straight down his cheek. Ashley had removed a quarter inch of flesh in a gash that extended five inches. Derek immediately pulled back, flashing lights behind his eye; blood splattered the bed, but instead of disengaging, rifled forward hitting Ashley with a closed fist with all of his enraged strength directly into her mouth, splitting her lips, blood now pouring from her mouth. Derek shrieked in agony and fury as he began to beat Ashley to death.

Ashley's brother raced home. The panicked distress was increasing and he hoped, prayed, it was nothing but some sort of psychological episode brought on by stress and the move. His mind begged that the police would follow him home. He would face the consequences only to know that Ashley was safe. No one stopped his mad dash and he continued driving with abandon. His conviction that something was seriously wrong pushed him to greater speeds and higher levels of terror that he became a danger to those sharing the city's arteries with him. As his heart thudded in his chest, why could not this damn vehicle go any faster, the grip on the steering wheel tightened to where the blood in his hands were forced back leaving them clenched and white. Muscles throughout his body were taut, ready to snap, or to unleash with such violence that destruction would be the wake, waves of unbridled ruin. He neared his neighborhood, then the roads connecting to his street, then his street, why was not he home besides the love of his life, why did he leave her for this night instead of insisting that he stay by her side, the whys coming one after the another, finally his street, and then the sharp turn to the right, the house, whose car was this, and to a full skidding stop, nearly crashing into the other car and the garage. He leapt from auto barely shutting it off and leaving the keys in the ignition, the door open, running to the front door yelling her name, "ASHLEY!"

Upstairs, the violence continued. Ashley beaten into oblivion, she was nearing her own death. A seismic blow to abdomen and her panties began to spread a red wet color. Welts were raised from her angelic face, her chest down her legs. Derek had been consumed with evil and a vengeance born of demons that truly hate all that is sweet and uplifting in this world. He would kill her and force her brother to suffer for the rest of his life. If Derek could not have Ashley, then no one deserved her either.

Ashley's brother slammed open the door with such force, panes locked in place shattered. He frantically searched the house, calling her name, and then the shock of realization, the broken wine bottle, and the blood on the wall. Any sanity of reasoning that still functioned left him. His purpose was to defend, find, and destroy. A blood-shift occurred in his vision, the cortex in his brain painted a crimson hue over his entire chromatic field. Part of him still held out the hope that this could be explained, that it was nothing more than a minor accident, but that last glimpse of false belief imploded when he heard the torrent of ferocity from above him. Without thought or decision, Ashley's brother bounded up the stairs.

It is hard to know exactly what information compressed into Ashley's brother's mind. As he reached the top of the stairs, the light from the hallway illuminated his silhouette from behind as he rapidly approached the room shared in one form or another with his sister for most of their lives. The one place where the ramparts provided safe solace, the fortress to which they called their own, the place untouched by evil, and their haven. Motion had not ceased for him, he continued at a breathtaking pace, to the outsider, he was at a full-tilt run but for himself, he was processing information at a tremendous speed so that everything seemed to move in slow motion. As he crossed the threshold of the room, Ashley's beaten body lay upon the soaked sheets drenched with her blood. Her lifelessness reached out in appearance. Her right arm dangling off the bed, her face bruised, eyes swollen shut, mouth split with her teeth stained a bright red. Ashley's virtually naked body, her panties darkened in the dimmed light, and the sadistic apparition standing over her careened through his awareness. In the recesses of his mind, he knew this person, why was he here? At that instant, Ashley's lover, her protectorate, her committed soul, lowered his shoulder, and impacted with all that he had just below the chest this evil personified as both of them left the confines of terra firma, through the window, and out into space. The ragged edges sliced into them both, floated in an embrace of a deadly ballet, until gravity signaled their fall towards destiny.

Looking with hatred into each other's eyes, they fell the distance of over twenty feet accelerating continually along the way. Each fraction of a second increased the momentum and energy until the impact released the destructive force. The detonation arrived with Derek's crashing abruptly on a wooden decorative fence that hedged in the landscaping in front of the house. His spine snapped in six places severing his cord rendering him instantly dead. Ashley's brother slammed on top of him breaking three ribs of his own. He somersaulted over the fence and landed on his back, his wind forced out of him from the collision with the ground, and his own internal damage. In excruciating sobs, the brother that swore to protect Ashley for life moaned, "I am so sorry Ashley, my dear sister, I am so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen" over and over again.

During the commotion, the sounds of violence were noticed by the nearby neighbors and the police had been called. The first cruiser that arrived was greeted to the tragic and surreal scene of a man straddled lifelessly over a fence, his body twisted and hugging the rails in the opposite direction than designed, and another in obvious pain, bloodied, and crying out something over and over again. The front door open, both officers entered the home, guns drawn, and the scene of obvious distress with blood on the walls, they slowly crept up the stairs. The first officer into the room noticed the lifeless young woman on the bed, the broken window with its ripped glass, approached her and checked her pulse. "Damnit Mike, she has a pulse, call for the paramedics and backup NOW!" His fellow officer complied immediately and raced to the squad car and summoned for help.

The emergency crews arrived in minutes. The officer that had waited for them indicated that they were to go into the house first and tend to the critically injured woman. Overhearing the cries of the brother on the ground, they immediately went to work. Ashley was in dire straits. She had lost an incredible amount of blood and her lungs had begun to fill with fluid. The destruction wrought upon this innocent caused a newer crewman to become sickened. He rushed to the bathroom and vomited. Setting IVs in place, equipment attached to vital areas, the paramedics placed Ashley gingerly upon the gurney and carried her to the back of the transport. Once in with two of the crew, a pound on the door indicated it was time to rush to the nearest trauma center. The vehicle sped into the distance with sirens blaring.

Ashley's brother was in agony. The fractured ribs had caused a lung to collapse and the crew forced a needle into it to inflate it. Not nearly as critical as his sister, nonetheless, he was severely injured with lacerations that needed professional suturing. Without ceasing, without thinking, he continued with his cries of how he did not mean for this to happen. The police and detectives misread his insanity of grief wrote in their logbooks all what was expressed and formally arrested him for the murder and beating of Derek and his sister at the hospital.

Chapter XVI, Tortured Lives

After Ashley's brother was stabilized, the slashes and tears properly tended, the ribs set with surgical wiring he was transported to the Los Angeles County Jail's infirmary for holding. Her brother was arrested but not formally charged, the evidence needed to be presented to the grand jury. No bail was offered as of yet because nothing had been presented to a judge or even a lawyer summoned to stand as defense. There he rested as the coroners, scientists, and detectives examined evidence in the case. The residence had once again been sealed up with yellow cordon tape indicative of a crime committed. No one had told him that his sister still lived and without this knowledge, he knew that he did not. He cried quietly, locked in a sterile prison facility, wondering how his end might come.

The county examiners sat staring at each other. They were utterly perplexed. If this evidence had not somehow been corrupted by the sometimes inept police, then only one conclusion could be drawn. They ran their assumptions over and over again. They tested the hypotheses and retested with the proof that the detectives had provided. Unless this was some sort of sick joke or if there was a grave miscalculation there could be only one conclusion. When the staff had reached a consensus, that indeed there could be no other explanation, the chief medical officer beckoned the ADA responsible for the case to come to his office.

Ashley was in critical condition. It appeared that she would live but the damage to her was extensive and some of it permanent. The bruises and welts would heal on their own, the damage to her mouth looked bloodier and worse than it was and with a few the help of a highly skilled plastic surgeon her lips would regain their luxurious composure. Her musculature prevented more extensive damage, absorbing the brutal impacts of her assailant. Her blood was restored to previous levels by extensive transfusions. Gentle and caring nurses washed away the visible reminders of the assault leaving her body black and purple from the ordeal. She had not gained consciousness and it was determined that leaving her in the state of an induced coma would aid in her recovery. At least, her body and mind would not have to contend with the pain. Her lungs cleared of the liquid that was threatening to down her in her bodily fluids and her breathing became less labored. It appeared that Ashley would make a miraculous recovery in all respects except one.

The Assistant District Attorney of the County of Los Angeles arrived at the Chief Medical Officer's office at little after two in the afternoon, a full two weeks after the tragic incident. Ashley's brother had been confined to a hospital bed as an unwilling guest of the county and under constant supervision. There was a valid concern that he might harm himself before justice was served and a watch was established. He still had not been told of the condition of his sister nor had he demanded an attorney. There would be time enough for that; the detectives had been prevented from questioning him until he was better stabilized. In addition, the attending doctor had called in a consult with the hospital's psychiatrist to discuss his current mental condition. The ADA arrived and was motioned to sit at a small conference table with the senior detective and few of the coroner's staff along with various crime lab specialists.

Ashley's brother kept quiet, surrounding himself with his own gloom. He remembered that his dear love being transported but no one would tell him of her condition. Not a single person volunteered any information and the only spoken words that he received was the occasional input directed at his own recovery from the health care personnel, otherwise, he was locked into confinement with his thoughts haunting him of the worst possible scenarios. Surely, someone would have had said if Ashley was alive. Part of him kept the flame of hope alive but that was at odds with the vivid imagery of her apparent lifeless and bloodied body as they left the confines of the room through the window. The wracking of guilt and distress slowly consumed his will to live.

The ADA sat listening to the facts and conclusions of the experts in the room. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. The Chief Coroner presented his conclusion, "We found blood of both the boy that died and her own blood on the girl. We found on the dead boy, the blood of the girl, himself, and the young man who you have locked up. On the suspect, we have the blood of the other boy and his own blood but not of the girl." He patiently waited for the facts to sink in and when he determined the obvious connection that he had reached was apparent in the ADA's expression, he continued, "We had a rape kit done on the young woman and it was determined that there was semen present and recent but the DNA evidence concluded it was not from the boy that died."

The ADA stood up and leaned over the table, "Holy shit, you mean ..."

"That is exactly what I am saying" the doctor stated plainly, "That young man, her brother, is not a killer but her lover."

In a quick conference with the County District Attorney, the ADA, and the most respected judge of Los Angeles, a rapid conversation was held. The judge emphatically commanded the DA, "Hank, unless you want to charge this young boy with incest, you can always do it later; I believe that you need to release him to the hospital to be with his sister and the both of them get proper care. For Christ's sake, he does not even know she is still alive."

Ashley's brother was immediately transported to the hospital. It is amazing when the government officials smell the prospect of a false arrest lawsuit potentially hanging over the city, just how fast the wheels of justice can move. In transit, he was told that his sister was alive and would live. He fell to his back and cried. Tears of relief mixed in guilt and self-hatred for what had transpired. Upon arrival, both he and Ashley shared the same room.

Ashley was mildly sedated against the pain. She awoke at times in a grimace only to have her body respond in mercy and slowly pushed her into sleep. Not a drug induced coma as before, but a drifting away so that her meticulously cared for body could honor her with a miracle of its own by healing. She had noticed another bed and a person in it before drifting away, "Who could this be," she wondered?

Later that evening, Ashley came wide awake, she felt first the presence she was all too familiar with, and then her hopes were confirmed, he brother was lying next to her in his own bed looking into her eyes. Both flooded with tears and joy. Before the guilt-stricken voice came from her brother's tongue she commanded, "My sweet love, you saved my life again, carry not the guilt, if it were not for you, I would already be dead." With those words, her brother fell into a torrent of tears accompanied by his love's own.

The next morning, the attending came into the room. With his words both hope in life was reestablished and a dream extinguished. He said that the two of them would make a fine recovery. They would be able to pursue their dreams without any limitations, but to Ashley directly, the blows and internal damage caused her ovaries to rupture and that she would never be able to bear children. The organs themselves were salvaged enough to maintain her hormonal equilibrium but the eggs were damaged and her fallopian tubes scarred. A nauseating feeling spread through them both, a milestone and the prospect of an extended family robbed from them by the pitiful act of cruelty and evil that had been visited upon them. Their lives tortured forever because of their love for one another had demanded its final price.

Chapter XVII, Redemption

Ashley and her brother had spent weeks convalescing in the hospital, prison infirmary, and faced still more time at home. If there could be good news from such a devastating affair, it was the buyer of the house was willing to wait whatever time was necessary for them both to recuperate. The notoriety of the attack seemed to infer some specialness to the siblings' home. The new owner appeared more than accommodating and used the occasion to garner sympathy of how understanding and compassionate a person that he was among his peers, friends, and family. Cornell University stated on record that it would make whatever arrangements that was necessary to make the transition and entry into its legendary veterinary college go as smoothly as possible. The attack was fairly well publicized nationwide. A college baseball hero with his future before him in the pros had attempted to rape a fellow UCLA student and when that failed, beat her mercilessly until her brother courageously intervened. This was the type of news that the wires would consume and distribute relentlessly until pushed aside by the next example of human depravity or natural disaster. Fortunately, the relationship status between brother and sister was mercifully omitted. The entire story hobbled together from pieces gleaned from the emergency crews, police radios monitored during the night, available 911 information recorded, and conjecture. No one from the inner circle of friends that Ashley and her brother enjoyed, their fellow students, professors, police, or the District Attorney's office, were willing to comment more than the official release already submitted. It was a testament to the nature of Ashley and her brother, their kindness, the loyalty of a group of friends that considered each other family, Ashley's own transcendental beauty that brought similar responses from a wider audience in very much the same way as Princess Di was able to influence countless millions just by her existence and extended influence without ever actually meeting most of her admirers. By invoking Ashley's name, the faceless masses created a fantasy of importance that for whatever reason, seemed to elevate them to a higher stature even if temporarily. For once, the city officials felt that grand-standing this tragedy for their own political purposes was just too emotionally painful and below even their own limited dignity. Quickly, the hoopla that surrounded this demoralizing affair dissolved leaving the thrice distraught couple to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and with a conviction born from the love that consumed them both, began anew.

Ashley's brother was released from the hospital first. His injuries resulted in lesser damage overall, though, his ribs would take additional time to completely heal. More scars to the body and heart but as long as Ashley prevailed, he would face life's uncertainties with a brave face and try his utmost to be the man that she deserved. In their room at the Ronald Reagan Medical Center, he could not let Ashley see how crippled he felt over their inability to conceive children or the pain she now endured because of his inability to protect her. As he arrived at the home that their wrecked family had once resided, he collapsed to the floor in the kitchen with agony that welled up and consumed the self-control he had fought so hard to maintain in front of his dear love. Three deaths, all of them senseless, even Derek's, none of this should have happened. The pain and suffering in their lives belonged to fiction or the annals of past wars. He strived to make sense of their lives, calculating the statistical odds that all that had occurred was a random offshoot of some fickle universe. It seemed that both he and his lovely sister were deliberately attacked by the same deity that Ashley believed in and held so dear. As his deep depression gave way to anger, he wondered why? Was not love some incredible gift that time itself would bend and give rise in celebration? But no, history was replete in the millions of broken hearts that spilled out over the eons and that seemed to be the truer condition of humankind.

Ashley was questioned at the hospital by the DA over the assault that resulted in two critically injured lovers and a death. The answers she provided were in complete agreement with the conclusions that the medical and crime analysts had arrived at. There would be no need to further corroborate the events with her brother or others at the scene that night. No charges would be filed concerning the outcome against her brother. The perpetrator who should have faced justice for the attack had already been convicted by fate that cost him his life. The question of their unique relationship between Ashley and her brother weighed heavily on the DA's conscious. Technically, they broke the law but the evidence was obtained in the commission of another completely unrelated crime, no actual observation had been determined, and this state prided itself on being more tolerant then say, Kansas. The judge had indicated that when the victims were healthy, he wanted to speak to all of them in his chambers. The DA would wait before he casted any final decision.

The day came when I could finally retrieve Ashley from the hospital. I had come to see her every day and stayed longer than technically I should have. The staff bent the rules somewhat for the two of us and probably would have let me stay overnight but I wanted to complete the repairs and remove the visual nightmare if not from memory, then from view. The police had taken the mattress from our room to collect evidence of that terrible day and that was fine with me. I had already removed anything that had been touched by the cruelty that had spread through the room and moved our personal effects into Ashley's old room. We would not be entering the space where the foul attempt had taken place to deprive my sister of her life and sworn oath of mutual commitment. Two bedrooms in the home now rang with a malicious bell. I closed them both from our sight forever. It was all I could do from not burning that cursed home to the ground. Leaving together from our hellish past and starting some place new was something that occupied much of my mind. Ashley was transported out in a wheelchair to our waiting car and gingerly, helped into the front seat while I loaded her personal effects into the trunk of our Civic. As I prepared to drive us home, my sister reached out to touch my hand and kissed me with a deep passion that surprised me. She smiled, squeezed my hand, and looked forward. Already, she would not allow life to victimize her eternally, that she was in command and chance was somehow, an inconvenient nuisance. Upon arrival home, we were greeted with a dozen friends holding welcome home signs while others tended to grills and a mid-summer barbeque in Ashley's honor.

Ashley healed rapidly but I could do no more than hold my dear sister at night. I would not dare to touch her in any other way, after what had happened to her, I felt sickened by any thoughts of desire that crept into my mind, that somehow, just being male was enough to indict me for the horrible crime that perpetrated itself against my beautiful sister. Ashley continued with her attempts to release my guilt that life between us would go on as planned and as her body knitted and stitched itself to relative wholeness, she was not going to forgo the physical expressions of love between us. With each progressive night, she pushed and stretched the envelope of comfort between the two of us until she controlled the entry into her and I was reduced to being the submissive partner. Passion once again sprang forth between us and flowed with the same concern and tenderness that it always reflected. With her tremendous faith and belief in the power of love, she had forced not only her body to heal but the combined minds and souls of the both of us. Lying together in her childhood bed, it was she that kept the monsters and nightmares at bay.

We had arrived in the judge's chambers around ten in the morning. Already seated was the District Attorney. This would be a conversation just between the judge, DA, and the two of us. We were welcomed and asked if we would like bottled water, juice, coffee, or tea but we declined and nervously we sat ready to listen to what was to be said. The judge welcomed us and began that there would be no charges filed in connection with incident of that fateful night. Indeed, no charges would be filed for ANY reason. The judge looked over at the DA and he nodded his approval. With that, the DA left and closed the door behind him. He examined my sister and me and began with a slow inhale, "I know the two of you are lovers" and before we could register our shock he continued, "Love is a strange thing, it will appear out of nowhere and despite the rules and laws of man, it seems to follow its own higher ruling. From what the two of you have already suffered, the fact that both of you are relocating to New York to pursue your educations at Cornell, it is my wish and with the agreement of the DA, that nothing of this matter between the two of you ever sees the light of day. Therefore, I have ordered any incidental information that is not relevant to the assault to be destroyed."

We sat with a dazed look upon our faces. We had no idea that what we had carefully concealed except for a few close friends was apparent knowledge to others, certainly Derek had figured it out and if he could, how many others? In retrospect, it was not that difficult for people to see, anyone in love as much as the two of us pronounce outward signs that only a fool could miss. The judge smiled and went on, "If it were in my power, I would marry you both or at least, grant a civil ceremony. The two of you and the fierce loyalty that is exhibited by you for each other is remarkable. Perhaps in time, people will become more open to the differing manifestations of the components that make up a splendid union. We have made progress, there is still more than needs to be done." With that, the judge thanked us for our time and wished us Godspeed. I was confused about the attitude of the judge, about his outward acceptance of our mutual liaison until a few of years later; we received a short note from the judge congratulating us on our recent graduation from Cornell signed by him and his confessed wife-cousin.

We had found some sort of redemption not only between us but another human being as well. Now, it was time to leave tragedies behind and begin to write a new chapter in our lives.

Chapter XVIII, Confessions of Sacred Love

Miraculously, my sweet sister with her incredible drive and determination to not let the harshness of the calamities that had fallen upon our lives made the incredible push to complete all that needed to be done in California. The house sold and vacated, the purchase of a small colonial accenting natural wood overlooking the lake in Ithaca, the movement of the personal property that was selected to accompany us, the 3,000 mile drive from one coast to the other, and acquiring what necessities that we deemed essential in our new location was accomplished before the start of orientation in August at the university. Ashley still suffered the stiffness and aches from a person healing from harrowing injuries but her ability to cope with adversity was something that can only be described as inspiring. Her life's plan was unfolding according to her inconceivable will and nothing that destiny had thrown at her had deterred her from her goals. She made the adjustments that reality had demanded but on her terms in her own way. Despite all that she had suffered, she remained upbeat, happy, with the positive attitude of a person deeply in love and holding to a conviction that only she understood.

As we settled into our lives in Ithaca, receiving the mandatory inoculations against rabies that are required of all veterinary students, we found a certain peace had descended upon us. So much weight that pressed into our lives was removed with the knowledge that this home was our home and that we now lived for all practical purposes, in an area considered rural to the average Californian. Ashley volunteered at an animal rescue clinic just minutes from our home and the exposure to all the furry creatures that needed love and help brought my lovely sister into a joyous happiness that I had feared was lost forever. I bought a small rowboat with an outboard and we both would putt around the lake fishing or just taking in the sights of the rolling hills and green spaces of the area. School at Cornell was intense but rewarding and we were quickly making new friends amongst our classmates. We looked forward to each new foundation course and the clinical rotation that is part of the instruction.

When the occasion arose where we had some spare time, Ashley and I would travel throughout the Finger Lakes Region exploring the wine country of New York. We remarked how similar yet different that the respective areas are between the two largest states of grape producers. The wineries in New York tended to be smaller and more spread out but the product produced was as every bit as good as the legendary establishments of Napa and Sonoma Valleys. There was less rush and from a visual perception, all this was so new to us that we were lost in the nature of the adventure. We embarked on hiking escapades exploring out the landscape and remarking between ourselves how this area had so many small lakes. Often, we found ourselves making love in an unhurried fashion under the canopy of trees that seemed to sprout from every corner of the state and cover the land as if in grass. The rolling hills of the Southern Tier were something that we became especially fond of. In summers, we scheduled trips to the Adirondacks, Thousand Islands, and Canada. The stresses of our previous existence had started to fade into a distant memory that could never be completely erased but the evilness of it all quietly reduced in strength. Occasionally, we were rewarded with a surprise visit from our closest friends from California, even Aunt Kimberly had come out, and the chance to renew and revisit better times from a previous existence were relived with newer memories being created in a differing geographical location.

We were maturing as adults and I came to look upon Ashley as my true soul mate and wife. I tended to no longer consider her my sister that I happened to love but someone that was much more preeminent and significant to me. She was still my sweet sister and the memories developed between the two of us carried a veneration in itself but she had become so much more. I could not begin to fathom a life without her. The trials and tribulations that we had faced created and molded a unique pair that could only operate at its peak by being together. We were our own optimal solution to life's challenges and we faced them as we have always had but with so much more richness of character brought through aging, education, experimentation, immense tragedy, and ultimately, redemption. Redemption in not only ourselves but those who surrounded us for as much blackness that had occurred in our lives, there were many shining examples of mercy and compassion displayed as well.

The four years spent at Cornell University were spectacular. The challenges and friendships made between faculty, staff, and peers would ultimately prove to be life-long. I was now twenty-six and Ashley twenty-three. We had spent the final year discussing our futures together. What we wanted most was peace to live our lives as we decided without the potential interference of governmental agents still stuck in the dark ages. With some regret, we opted to open a small clinic focusing on not only the ubiquitous pets displayed across the households of America, but farm animals in rural Rhode Island. The state had proved in countless manners that it was progressive in thought, deed, and action. There were no laws barring the interactions of brother and sister in the state and we could live life like any other couple. It would also bring us nearer to another ocean on the far side of the country, this time the Atlantic, and for native Californians, something of home as well.

We sold the small house in Ithaca and purchased a twenty acre parcel with a log cabin and an outbuilding that was quickly converted into our practice. We were accepted into the tight-knit community immediately and began our lives treating dogs, cats, chickens, goats, cows, and the occasional ostrich. We had fought, clawed, and struggled for happiness and if were not for my sister's plans, the ones she had built and forced into existence by her sheer tenacity, perhaps that all-encompassing form of life that worshipped love would have been fleeting for us as it was for many others. We had not run from friendship, romance, or love but directly into it with its whirlwinds, tornados, and hurricanes that life's child had forced upon us. Each of us honed together where we existed as an odd but remarkable entity capable of so much love and compassion for not only ourselves but all of the inhabitants of the planet.

As we settled deeply into our new lives, Ashley began to wake up in the morning nauseous. At first, we had thought that she contracted a virus but when these episodes were beginning to grow in frequency and duration, I became worried and insisted that we see a doctor. We arrived at the office in a grey sort of dismal day where it is not quite raining but misting with a chill that follows in mid-autumn. Ashley described her symptomatology as only another doctor; a healing practitioner was able to do. The doctor listened carefully and escorted my dearest into the examining room while beckoning me to stay in the waiting room. After some time, my sister came out with look of confusion on her face. The examining doctor reassured the two of us that he believed that it was nothing to be concerned about but he had run some tests and the results should be known by the next day. Ashley said little but she seemed more relaxed after the visit than before so I held hope that it was nothing more than a little queasiness from exposure to a pathogen probably hitching a ride on one of our patients.

The next morning, Ashley again burst into the bathroom unable to settle the contents of her stomach. I was becoming extremely concerned but Ashley looked up and smiled. I was becoming muddled at her reaction to an obviously distressing situation. She weakly reassured me that it was nothing, just the end of adjustments that her body was making, and that in all probability she would improve as time progressed. Anxiety began to overtake my thoughts and forcefully, I convinced her to take the day to herself and rest. I would handle anything in the clinic that day and if there was a site visit, I would do that as well. The day proved to be routine, various vaccinations and health checks, the house phone rang the extension in our little animal hospital once but was quickly silenced. Naturally, I had assumed Ashley must be near and picked it up in the cabin. If it had any degree of importance, she would have notified me with promptly.

Later that evening, my sister seemed to be in excellent spirits and looked well. Perhaps, she was correct and that her health was improving as her body fought off whatever invader had taken up residency, however provisionally, in her bowels. I opened a bottle of one of her favorite wines from New York but she declined saying that she wanted to be on the safe side while recuperating. Through the night, she glanced at me smiling. We made love that night and as we finished, she mentioned that we had an appointment to see her ob-gyn the next afternoon. It was nothing more than a follow-up and not to be stressed or concerned. Our family doctor had called earlier and wanted the tests verified by another.

I suffered throughout the day in apprehension about the next appointment. Ashley seemed to be in good spirits and had awoken feeling much better than she had over the previous couple of weeks. We closed our clinic for the consultation with my sister's doctor, started our 4-Runner, and I picked up Ashley as she was closing the front door to our home. We drove in silence with her holding my hand smiling and humming to herself. As we arrived, Ashley waited impatiently for me to get out of the vehicle, grabbed my hand, and literally pulled me in her wake. The nurse checked us in and after no more than a few minutes wait, Ashley was ushered into the doctor's office. After want seemed an insurmountable time, both Ashley and the doctor who sported conspiratorial smiles glowing on their faces beckoned me into the office. I sat down and when the doctor was convinced that I was as relaxed as I was going to be began, "Well, I think congratulations are in order. In about seven months, you are going to be a father not once but twice."

I became completely numb, I was convinced that my senses had left me and what I was hearing was some form of cruel hallucination.

Ashley beamed a smile that reminded me so much of her as a child running wild with abandon said with so much joy in her voice, "It's true my dearest, we are going to have twins!"

"How can this be, I mean I am ecstatic, but how?"

"My gosh young man, you are a doctor yourself, in the usual way," laughed the ob-gyn.

"I mean, no that was not what I meant, we were told that it was impossible."

The doctor still possessed by mirth, "Sometimes, for all our education and experience, miracles are the only explanation that can provide the answers. Take it for what it is worth, your love is pregnant, healthy, the fetuses are vibrant, and the two of you are on the way to becoming parents. Just accept what is and celebrate the gift that you have been granted."

I thanked the doctor over and over while she wrote out a prescription for supplements for my what, mother-to-be, and settled on the next appointment for a routine checkup. I floated on clouds, fighting back tears that ultimately would not be defeated, and held my precious love tightly with no immediate desire to ever release her from my embrace again. Drenching Ashley's shoulder in joys of my own, I hugged her doctor and together, the three of us, make that the five us, walked to the door, out into the mystical drizzle, and drove home. For the first time in my life, that night, I fell to my knees and prayed. I gave thanks to a Mercy that I believed did not exist. I opened my soul to Ashley's God, a God that my sister never lost faith in, and thanked what Providence that exists in the minds and souls of us lesser mortals, that no matter what evil that had befallen us, the goodness in our lives existed on a much higher plane.

Our children are now six months old. We had a boy and girl, fraternal twins. The doctor said that we might never have anymore but we have them, they are healthy, and we are grateful behind any measure of words. Ashley is standing by my side holding my hand. It is night and we look at our angels sleeping so peacefully taking in all the incredible feelings overtaking not only as new parents that are deeply in love but ones granted one of life's rare reprieves. A golden retriever, Holly, that we rescued stands sentinel over their small lives protecting and guarding these innocents. I am strangely captured by an impulse; something looks incredibly familiar to me. I leave the room and walk to the den looking for an old shoe box. Finding it, I move the contents from one side to another until I locate the objects of my search and return to my Ashley holding the results in my hand. I glance at the items and feel a strange tingling rise through my body. A sensation of awareness flows through me as I hand them over to the mother of our children, my sweet wife, and she smiles and shakes her head with affirmation. It is uncanny what we are seeing; the similarities are beyond anything that can be grasped or begun to be understood; only taken as a proof, as faith. Ashley motions for me to follow, turns on the monitoring device, and we retreat to our rooms while she leaves the two old photographs, instamatics from decades ago, on the babies' dresser. Ancient color photographs of our mother and father from the time when they both were as young.

The End