Submission

She gave birth to twin boys. Eliot, the first born, was two pound three ounces heavier than Oliver. The smaller of the twins was kept in the Special Care Baby Unit for the first eight days, until the consultants decided he was strong enough to come home.

Eliot resented his younger brother from the moment that Oliver was placed in the cot next to him. Having had undivided attention for the last week, Eliot had developed an over defined survival instinct.

It wasn’t her imagination. She tested her theory and was sure of it. Her husband laughed and told her not to be ridiculous. According to the baby book, human babies are amongst the most helpless of all young, relying only on their cute looks and their vulnerability to get the care they need.

Eliot grizzled the moment Oliver was placed next to him. The placid baby became fractious. At first, she laid the boys facing each other, Eliot's hand moved with fine precision onto Oliver's face and his sharp nails gouged down his brother's cheek, despite the fact that his movements, until that moment, had been random and careless from his undeveloped optical focus.

She calmed the scratched baby and then placed him next to his brother again, within five seconds the younger child had been scratched. Over a couple of days every time she placed him next to his brother either face on, or top to tail, Oliver was scratched and bleeding within seconds. She bought them separate cots.

She fed the babies together one on each breast, but Eliot would reach across to scratch his brother. Even through cotton scratch mitts the elder twin managed to hurt the younger, weaker baby. She would give them fifteen minutes each side and Eliot would guzzle, making her breast ache and her nipple bleed he was fierce in his feeding.

Oliver was a gentler feeder but he was lazy and sluggish and she had to wake him often when he fell asleep on the teat.

To stop Oliver being hurt she took to feeding the twins separately, she would alternate the feed so that each child was fed first every second feed.

When Eliot took the first turn, her breasts would be empty by the time Oliver fed. She took to feeding Oliver first every time. Eliot would glare with hatred from the playpen. Sometimes she punished him by leaving him unfed. Oliver was her favourite. She loved little Ollie.

Whenever Oliver fed or was changed or cuddled, Eliot screamed continuously, until his brother was put down. It made no difference whether he was then picked up or not. He didn't care and neither did she. He wasn't nice to hold so she didn't bother very often. She had Oliver.

The boys developed at different rates. At three months Eliot was twice the weight of Oliver.

Oliver was a sickly child, bringing back much of his feed, succumbing to constant colds and conjunctivitis. One minor medical problem followed another for Oliver while Eliot thrived with rosy cheeks and healthy appetite.

She bought books on twins. The experts said that twins were always very aware of their sibling. They’d show symptoms of distress if separated, and they’d interact with each other, involve in toe holding and later play with their twin.

By the time the boys were five months old it was obvious that Eliot’s behaviour around his brother was not coincidental. As his personality developed it was clear that he detested Oliver.

Eliot walked at nine months. Oliver took his first step twelve weeks later. Eliot got teeth four months earlier, and had a staggered vocabulary before Oliver got his first tooth or spoke his first word.

The boys couldn’t be left alone for even a second. Eliot would use any weapon available to hit his brother. He was a good child in every other aspect but his jealousy over his twin altered his mood and behaviour and grasped at any opportunity to hurt him.

Oliver was terrified of Eliot, he was submissive and introspective in Eliot's company, but the same child on his own, was a delight, always laughing and chuckling. The babies had no preference over mother or father and responded normally to both. But although Oliver occasionally tried to touch Eliot, the latter never made any overture towards his brother other than a violence.

The boys were only eighteen months old when Oliver died from cot death.

Eliot was giggling and pointing at Oliver when she walked into the bedroom that morning.

Oliver was still and cold.

The first thing she asked the coroner was if the baby had been suffocated. She accused her elder toddler of killing his brother. No sign of suffocation was evident. Because of her neurotic accusations the family were closely monitored by Social Services. And she was given Prozac and labelled as postnatal depressive.

Eliot didn’t miss his brother. He never once looked for him, or cried for him. He was a content and placid child.

But he didn't fool her. He might have fooled the others—but not her.

She hated him.