And they are some our guide for Marmite first timers. First toast your pillowy soft bread.

Push that.

Liberally spread that butter. Stroke that Marmite open.

Dip that knife and spread that. Don't overload.

And taste that. Marmite. Love it.

Hate it. Get it on.

No sleep. Now time for the story.

As we awoke to the horrified scream shattering the silence of night, it didn't take more than a second for my protective instincts to kick in.

I grabbed my back and ran upstairs to my children's bedroom. My wife followed behind me.

Ready to face any danger the world had to offer in order to keep our kids safe.

Just at the top of the stairs, we immediately saw the smoke and heard the crackling fire coming from inside their room.

As I burst through the door, I could see the twin boys already turned a charred bits of flesh while our youngest daughter sat unfazed alone in her own bed.

Defying all logic, the fire didn't seem to spread. It was locked to our son's burning bodies. They were dead before we even opened the doors.

Even in the chaos, instinct to save whatever I could prevailed. I rushed over to my daughter and got ready to grab her and run.

No sooner had my hands touched her before I felt a searing pain in my palms, despite seeming perfectly fine.

Her body had turned to an uncontrollable source of heat. Joanna, I managed to get out as I stared at my burned hands.

Then the fire suddenly cleared, leaving two charred bodies in a smoke-filled room.

Joanna lifted her head and stared into my eyes. Her pupils had turned unnaturally large, occupying the entirety of her eyes.

Mary sat hunched over by her sons, screaming at the loss of our twins.

But I couldn't do the same. I was broken from shock. I couldn't take my eyes off Joanna.

Despite the idea going against all logic, I knew she had been the one to kill her brothers. But I couldn't fathom why or how.

Did you do this? I asked in a merely shaky whisper. But instead of giving an answer, she just smiled in return.

...