Just as Sara was walking up to her classroom, she was confronted by two seemingly identical figures. They each grabbed one of Sara’s arms and dragged her to the playground, their long, red-stained fingernails digging into her skin. “Let’s go,” rasped one of the twins, in a voice much too deep for a five-year-old. As they dragged her to the playground, the nails digging into her arms seemed to get sharper with each step. At the opening of the slide, they roughly shoved her up to the top, where they simultaneously pulled knives out of their pockets. “Don’t worry,” they crooned in unison as they leered at her. “We won’t hurt you,” they said as they plunged their blades into Sara’s chest. As Sara’s terrified screams punctuated the air, she realized what was wrong with the Bernsteins. The pungent-smelling red liquid on their nails wasn’t nail polish, it was blood...