The glass frame shattered all over the grey and mundane carpet. Within the mangled mess of the shards of glass and the crimson frame, which had been shattered in two, was the grainy photo. It had a white picket fence and unfathomable lengths of green grass and in the middle, a red eyed family stood proud. A father, a mother, and two sisters; two very similar sisters. In fact, they were almost identical, both with green eyes, both with chestnut hair, and both with wide grins on their face. I did not realize how close she was with her sister; I also did not realize that your wife and her sister were both twins. In fact, the only thing keeping them both apart was the visible twitch her sister had during the photo.

"What was that?" A booming yet calm voice called. I immediately snapped out of my daze; her voice always seemed to do that to me recently. "Just dropped a photo sweetie." I replied. By that point I had convinced myself that the photo meant nothing. It WAS nothing. "Get a mop and clean it then." She spoke in a passive aggressive tone. I walked out of the bedroom, along the hallway with its paintings of Van Gogh and Munch and a bunch of flowers by the staircase. I went down the staircase, creaking with every step. Once I reached the bottom I walked straight to the kitchen.

Chop, chop, chop. The knife swung down onto the chopping board like a guillotine. She turned to me with an unfeeling yet loving smile. "The mop's just next to the larder." She explained. I nodded slowly whilst I pondered the photograph. I moved my hand towards the mop and grasped it, I then made my slow trip back up the stairs and passed the paintings and back into the bedroom. I pushed the glass away and took the photo, I couldn't stop staring at the twitch in the sister's eye. At first, I wanted to throw away the photo and never think about it again, but I couldn't; I couldn't even bring myself to touch it. So instead, I gently picked up the shards of glass and binned them, then I binned the photo frame. Finally, I slowly cradled the photo and stared at it again. I had gained a tiny cut on my finger from the glass and now the crimson fluid had blurted out onto the photo, covering my wife in blood. Somehow, this frightened me, and I threw the photo in the drawer.

I felt a chilling breath on my shoulder, and I turned around to see my wife behind me with the kitchen knife in her hand and a white apron covered in a damp liquid and a big smile on her face. "Are you done yet? She asks. "I need a hand in the kitchen". I stared at her for what felt like hours, until I plucked up the courage to ask the question that had been trapped in the back of my mind all day. "What happened to your sister?" I asked, whilst I hid my trembling hand behind my back. Her gleeful smile became wider. "She's dead sweetie." My wife said, her emerald, green eye twitching. Suddenly I had realized the truth, my wife's been dead the entire time, and I never noticed. "How did she die?" I asked, now my whole-body trembling. "She was stabbed four times in the chest." She said, her smile becoming wider and wider. I waited for a second, I wasn't sure if I should ask it, but I knew I had to. "Why did you do it?" I asked. "What do you mean?" She asks, her smile continued to widen but this time her eyes were engulfed in flames. I stared at her with a serious face, not flinching one bit. "You know, don't you?" She asked, her eye and hand twitching, with the knifes blade pointed towards me. "You can't make them take me back there! I don't belong in the hospital!" She shouted, pointing the kitchen knife at me. I was frozen in place like a statue, and she began moving closer and closer until she stopped and stared at me with her bulging green eyes in which tears began to form. She then stormed off with the knife in her hand as I stood there motionless. What the hell was I supposed to do now?