I began babysitting at 13 to earn extra money to spend on horribly embarrassing things like Fall Out Boy CDs. I would almost always work for my dad's clients (lawyer) and get referred by word of mouth.

I was babysitting for this one family who had a little girl, 9, and a little boy, 7. The parents seemed okay, if a tad crotchety, giving me a full schedule to follow and "jokingly" threatening to beat any boy who might mysteriously show up after they left. It felt cruel for them to accuse me of even knowing a boy given I basically looked like an overgrown baby with frizzy hair at that age.

Almost immediately after the parents leave, the little girl sings in a creepy high-pitched voice, "We're all al-o-o-o-one now!"

Righty-o. Cue The Shining soundtrack.

"I know!" the little boy chimed in, "Let's play rape!"

Looking back now, I know the kid probably just heard the term on TV, knew the word was shocking, and said it just for a reaction. I totally bought into it at the time, sputtering wide-eyed and changing the subject quickly.

These kids were hell for the next hour. I wouldn't let them watch South Park on the TV because their parents did NOT seem like the type to allow their precious 7 and 9 year old to watch a show like that. As soon as I said no, the little girl said casually, "Oh, that's fine, we'll just go play Playstation in the Family Room. Feel free to watch it out here."

Lolnope, I knew exactly where that was headed. I said they could watch ANY other TV show in the living room while I made them dinner. The parents had left instructions to make them sandwiches. I could handle that. Before I had even got out the bread, I hear a massive crash. It seems like the little girl has broken a glass. Tutting and pissed, but ultimately with no way to punish her, I cleaned it up while these two incredibly weird kids watched with wide eyes.

Dumping the broken glass in the trash, I went back to making the sandwiches. I'm a vegetarian, so while the kids had chicken, I'd made a simple salad one for myself. Just as I was finishing, the little boy screamed out in what (even from my hyper-vigilant state as an accountable teenage babysitter) sounded like a pantomime of pain. Nonetheless, I ran over to the couch in the living room to check on him.

"My ankle!" he howled, dramatically flopping back into the couch.

While I tried to figure out how he had "hurt" his ankle, the little girl slipped out of the room. Peripherally, I was aware of this, but didn't really pay it any mind, focused on this little boy pretending to be in pain. He kept saying "I went to stand but it hurt too much, I don't know," over and over until his eyes suddenly flicked to just behind me, where I could see the little girl standing with a perturbing smile on her face.

He was miraculously healed. Yeah. Praise the Lord.

At this point, I was just thinking these kids were really weird, craved attention a little too much and probably needed more parental involvement. Whatever, I was 13, and that $60 was only four hours away.

I set out the sandwiches for the two to eat at the dining table, went to get us soda, and returned. After pouring soda for the both of them, I realized they hadn't even taken a bite of their sandwiches yet. I asked them what they were waiting for.

They smiled, "For you to take a bite of yours."

I am so glad I had a gut feeling to open the top part of bread of my sandwich. Because when I did, I saw glass. Broken glass. Broken glass that I'd put in the trash.

I stared in horror at the two little kids staring at me with menacing twin grins. I lost it, shouting, "Are you serious?! At the very least, you could've really injured my mouth! What's wrong with you two?!"

Instead of crying, or apologizing, or pretending to be ashamed or confused, these two little fuckers began laughing. Not like kids. It was too low, it wasn't that silly, free laugh kids laugh. It was low, and threatening. I'll never forget that noise. My immediate reaction was "these kids are too young to be laughing like that."

I called my older sister (17) at the time, cried about what had happened, and she came and took over for me. We left the house with chills after the parents arrived. I never babysat for those two again. What I can't get past is the level of premeditation that went into sprinkling that broken glass in my sandwich, and the totally remorseless way they responded to my getting upset. They were unlike any two kids I've ever met before.

Edit: Humiliatingly put an apostrophe in when it wasn't needed D';