Chapter Text
Esme Frost was born hungry.
She opened their bright eyes to the world and screamed when she had to wait.
“We’ll have to beat that out of her,” the scientists said.
But they also said if you gazed into those hungry eyes for too long then you would feel the hunger too, until you were willing to gnaw your own arm off rather than wait another second for food.
Clarice Fong’s mother died the night of her birth.
It would become a theme.
Things rotted around her.
Plants withered at her touch.
Grass died under her feet.
People sickened if they were near her too long.
“Freak,” people called her.
But they also said the air around her was tainted, that people fell ill and died if she wished it.
The moon was red the night Rebecca Hoover was born.
Fights started when she’s around.
She laughed when blood is spilt.
“Sociopathic,” people called her.
But they also said her presence was all that was needed to split friends, lovers, siblings, tear families in half.
Lauren Strucker was born quiet.
“She’s not all there,” people said about her.
She never cried, never made a sound, only watched the world with those pale eyes.
Her parents worried and cried, took her to specialists, all for nought.
“Mute,” the doctors would say, though there was nothing wrong with her physically.
She wouldn’t make a single sound until her brother was born two years later.
“Better,” she said.
They were one spirit across two bodies, inseparable, inconsolable when they were apart.
They craved togetherness.
“Separation anxiety,” the doctors said.
But people also said things died around them, that they saw things in the dark.