• tab I stood at my fourth story window, staring at the ground. This was the first morning that I had woken up before my alarm had gone off, before the sun had even decided to wake up from its nightly dreaming. Well, the first morning in a very long time, that is. Almost 10 years, to be precise. And it was torture, knowing that for the past 10 years, I had been denied a sunrise, denied the comforts of waking up to a silent house, save for the occasional squeak of a floorboard that moved on its own, it seemed. My eldest sister didn't wake up for another two hours, and then about 30 minutes after the sun rose. After that, our adoptive father would wake up, then my older sister, and then the triplets, the three little dears that still slept in the same room. None of us were related, save for the triplets, and yet we all got along like we had known each other for years and years.
    tab In truth, I had known the twins for at least 10. Actually, I remember my last sunrise was when they came to us. I waited all night, and all morning to welcome them. And I watched the sun rise while they walked up to the house, hand-in-hand. They are all identical, the triplets: Henrietta, Maeve, and Irene. All three are age 13, all three are taller than most their age, all have big blue eyes, all have long blonde hair, all wear the same outfit everyday, the only difference being different colors. Henrietta wore green, Maeve wore blue, and Irene wore purple. They even have color-coded backpacks and lunch-boxes...and last time I had laundry duty, I noticed their underwear was all the same as well, just color-coded to match their tastes. And, all three have the same facial structure and body type. It's as if they were clones instead of twins. It's almost eerie. Almost.
    tab Finally, just when the sky turned grey, one hour before the sun was to rise, I heard a moan from downstairs and smiled. They were waking up. Not yet awake, but waking up. It would take a while, but at least the process had started. Thank God it was a Saturday, or they would all have their alarms on, and they would all go off and they would sleep through it. I was the only one in the house who woke up to my alarm, which went off right as the sun finished rising above the houses and hills, and I would groan and roll of of bed, slam my fist on the off button, and get ready. I always had coffee waiting for everyone, and food cooked perfectly right when the correct person walked in the kitchen. For our father, it was coffee and eggs. For the triplets, it was coffee, milk, and oatmeal: color-coded, of course.
    tab I left my window to walk up the steps of the raised platform that held my bed and bedside table off the ground. I turned the alarm on my clock off, and walked back to my window. I sat down on the bench that stretched from one side of my bay window to the other, leaning against the panels to stare at the sky again. It was quiet and calm, everything was quiet and calm, and the sky had no object in it yet, at least not that I could see. This is how I loved the world, how I wanted it to be, how I saw it when I closed my eyes. No idiot men fighting with each other, no people dying thanks to all those horrible things that plagued the world, no evil people lurking around, bent on taking control of something, anything.
    tab But I was one of those evil people, in a way. We all were, myself and my family. Not even like the rest...we hunted and killed, left people to rot in the streets when we didn't have enough time to stage a suicide. It was ugly and evil, but it was how we lived. Even the triplets took part in it, instead of just waiting for the rest of us to bring them home their own prize like they used to. It was almost like a family outing now, except eventually, we split up to get down to business. And we all had our own way of doing it, all had our own way of playing with our prey before we ended it, all had a way of making things fun. And none of us wanted to know the other's way of doing things, we didn't want to know how horrible we all were, who was the worst. Though we could guess that the triplets made a mockery of the rest of our skills by their methods.
    tab Ah, the sun, it was rising then. How gorgeous it was, bright and orange, framed by pink clouds, purple and blue sky. It was a drawing, a masterpiece that took my breath away. I should stay up more often, I thought, and I slid off the seat, my nightgown clinging to the cushion in an attempt to stay in a comfortable spot. I pulled it away from the buttons and walked down the endless flights of stairs, the long hallways, until I reached the kitchen and fell into my morning routine. I wouldn't shower and get ready until everyone else was taken care of. I started my eldest sister's breakfast, putting a kettle on the stove to boil. Saturdays were tea days, not coffee days.
    tab As soon as her crepes were finished, my eldest sister shuffled into the kitchen, still wear her nightgown under her robe: a thin baby pink nightgown that reached her knees, and a furry robe of the same shade that had pink feathers hiding every hem. I turned and put her plate in her spot, the same spot she always sat at, and grabbed her mug from the cupboard. I quickly made her the same tea she always drank, and set that in front of her as she slid into her spot at the bar.
    tab "Good morning, Iorwen. You're not dressed...it's odd. Are you feeling alright?"
    tab Iorwen looked up from her plate, which was also pink, as was everything with her, and frowned, shaking her head only enough so that I could see movement. She returned her attention to eating and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Once again, it was pink; not her whole head, of course, just a few chunks here and there were colored pink, and the rest was such a light blond that it looked almost white. She was like a Barbie in many ways, except that she didn't have Barbie's personality...plus she was skinnier and less tan. She was happy and bubbly, yes, but she didn't care about most things, like Barbie did. She was shallow and cruel, mostly, except to her family and to a select few friends, and even toward those she was kind to, she would have her moments of complete and utter coldhearted cruelty that would make you feel worthless. I myself had had on at least three or four occasions a taste of said cruelty.
    tab I turned back to the stove and took my time with the eggs that I knew needed to be cooked in about five minutes. And as soon as that five minute mark came up, I had a hot plate of eggs and a somewhat large mug of tea sitting in my father's spot. And as soon as I turned to get ready for my other older sister, Carmichael walked through the kitchen door and sat in his stool. And, as everyone else, he had on the usual attire. For him, staying in his pajamas for half the day was normal. He found it comfortable, supposedly. I didn't blame him, though even the triplets wished he'd wear something different, since we were tired of forcing our eyes away from our father: every day, he would come down the stairs in baggy, dark green plaid pants that, even for how tall he was, bunched up around his ankles. And of course, he wore his dusty black slippers as well, which seemed to compliment his bed-head well, as my joke always went (the joke everyone still laughed at), and yet, even with pants and slippers and end-of-shoulder-blade-length black hair, he never wore a shirt. Ever. It was torture for us, because we were all girls forced to live in the same house as a very attractive man that we couldn't have, that seemed to enjoy showing off his perfect body. Or, at least, that's what it seemed to us.
    tab So, as Carmichael ate silently, glaring at the palm of his free hand, as usual, I went back to work cooking. The next one was fairly easy: just two pieces of toast, butter on one, jam on the other, and a small mug of tea. That was all she needed, all she ate. And that's what I set in front of my next oldest sister, her light brown hair barely tangled, her barely tan skin somewhat less tan from a week of no sun, and her blue men's pajamas wrinkled from sleeping in a ball. Yes, Keir was the more masculine of the daughters, that was noticeable even just by glancing at her amongst the six of us. And she was most likely the funniest, though she wouldn't admit it. Her every day greeting to me was a nod and a smile, and then she would eat quickly and silently before returning to her room to sit in front of a desk or change so she could go "kick the dudes' asses in ball". And my normal greeting back was just a smile in return.
    tab Finally, I had some time on my hands. The triplets wouldn't wake up for another half-hour, and they only needed oatmeal, so I went right to washing the pan I had dirtied, and when I had ten minutes left, I started their food. And when my ten minutes was up, there were three color-coded bowls of oatmeal to carry over to their little table in the corner, because they had to eat by themselves. Green bowl on the green place-mat for Henrietta, blue on blue for Maeve, purple on purple for Irene, and clear plastic cups of milk in front of each. They didn't like tea very much.
    tab The triplets walked in wearing matching white knee-length nightgowns with white pajama pants underneath. Each girl had a heart of her color on the front of the nightgown, and the first initial of her first name on the back in that color, and slippers that had random polka-dots of color. They smiled at me, said good morning in one echoed, lovely teenage girl voice, and sat down to eat. And as I walked back to the stove to finally get my breakfast made, Carmichael grabbed my arm and made me turn to face him.
    tab "Aidan, are you alright?"