I'm the youngest of the family.
My parents were in their mid-thirties when I was born, with a six year gap between my youngest sister and myself. Three older sisters? No, I had four mothers. Mom quite proudly says that my sisters raised me- which in my mind is pretty well fucked up.

I was in college before I realized that womens' menstrual cycles synchronize. Until then all I knew was that there were certain times when it was best to hide in my room all day.

The Three Furies. That's them.

Without mercy, the Furies would punish all crime including the breaking of rules considering all aspects of society. They would strike the offenders with madness and never stopped following criminals. Horrible to look at, the Furies had snakes for hair and blood dripping from their eyes.

Yup, pretty close to how I remember them.

The worst was the youngest one. She had had six years of being the baby of the family, only to be displaced by me. In photos from that time and in the portraits Mom had done of us as kids, she has a sullen glare. She denies now ever having had harsh feelings about me, but even Mom calls bullshit on that.

One afternoon she was lying on the couch and teasing me about something as she usually did whenever bored, when I had enough. I ran across the room and did a classic Superman dive at her, both fists extended, and caught her on either side of her nose. As this had the full weight of my four year old body behind it, she had two gloriously blackened eyes.

Mom spanked me for it, but damn I was proud of myself...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 26 Dec 2008, 15:03, Reply)