Psychotic

[4] Dearest Brother

It was for brother, this I had tried to convince myself as I sat cross-legged on the raggedy couch I called a bed. 'You have to be like your big brother,' mother and father had told me this every single day until that fateful night nine years ago. The night Oliver had set our home ablaze and let the flames steal away our parents, the night I almost died, the night he almost killed me. I don't think of it like that much anymore, I prefer to block out those memories, pretend as though they weren't my own.

Yet now as I stare blankly at the faded blue veins that branched down my arm, I could think of nothing but the words my parents always barked and bellowed. It could be heard as plain as day through the thin apartment walls, brother's frenzied breaths and the sobs of the woman he had pinned beneath him. She was unwilling, she'd screamed and refused him, wanting no part in the carnal act he had forced upon her. He was eating her, swallowing her piece by piece, I was sure of it.

I had to be like big brother, right?

I bit into my forearm, the meat was tough and I couldn't tear my flesh from place, but the blood in my mouth had a bitter, metallic aftertaste. I scrunched my face up as tears sprung to my eyes and I tried again in another place. This time my teeth sunk deeper than before and I screamed into my arm, muffling the sound of my voice as best I could. But no matter how much I pleaded for it, no matter how hard I tried to tear apart the muscle of my arm it just wouldn't work.

I had managed to cover both my arms in bloody wounds when I desperately bit into my hand and was rewarded with a small chunk of flesh. Eagerly I began to chew on the meat, it tasted of sweat and blood, it tasted dirty, it was... disgusting. I hadn't heard brother finish up and only noticed him when I turned my head towards the ceiling. He stepped forwards and closed the distance between us, grabbing a hold of my face and tilting it backwards. I began to wail, I couldn't do it, I couldn't be just like brother, I couldn't even eat like him. I was a disaster.

His thumb traced my lips as his grip tightened on my jaw. "Swallow," he said firmly, rousing something lewd from the back of my mind, and finally I came to a conclusion. If I could not be like Oliver the least I could do for mother and father was to live in his image.

***

Brother was so beautiful, but he and I had always been so different.

While he had hair as white as the driven snow, I had hair like that of a raven's feathers. His left eye was a gorgeous gold and his right a dazzling queen's blue, mine were only a dull brown. Brother had handsome sharp teeth, always stained with fresh blood. But alas mine could barely pierce even the frailest of skin. For years I'd yearned to be like my elder brother, and as I took the polished blade to my skin I couldn't calm my excitement.

I dug the blade into my face, beginning to carve off the skin around my eye, screaming out through grit teeth at the almost pleasurable burning. My hands began to shake violently and my handiwork became sloppy as tears and blood blurred my vision. I hadn't expected it to hurt quite this much, I'd thought the blade would slice through my flesh with ease, brother made it look so effortless. A messy chunk of skin finally broke from my face and the moment the air hit it I flinched at the searing hot sensation.

I brought the knife towards my eye, carefully cutting into the muscles that held it in place, causing a sick, sloppy sound. Dropping the bloodied knife to the floor I snatched up the spoon I'd laid aside. I shoved it forcefully below my eye, screaming louder than before as the pain reached its peak. It made an almost humorous sound as it popped from its socket without difficulty.

"Oh my," I forced myself to giggle through the tears and pain, "looks like we have a problem." I grit my teeth, attempting to smile to myself as I felt the eye dangle from its place. It slid back and forth against my skinless cheek. Though the eye was no longer in place I was still able to see, though my vision through both eyes was blurred. Bending down I blindly patted around searching for the discarded knife.

"Ah," I sighed grabbing hold of the handle and sitting down once again. Using the knife as though it were a saw I dragged it across the flimsy cord keeping my eye in place, wincing only slightly. Once done the eye dropped into my lap and I reached into the bucket of ice for the eye of the woman who'd kindly lent me it.

By now I felt light headed and my arms heavy. I could feel blood spurting and dribbling from the left side of my face as I held the eye up to my still intact one. Though it was darker than Ollie's it would have to do. Taking the eye and the still attached half of face I began clumsily stitching it to my own. I had jabbed the needle through the back of the woman's eye and sewed it into my own socket before I continued with covering the open wound on my face. The woman had a darker complexion than I and pretty freckles that splattered her cheeks. I was never very good at sewing and I struggled to keep my 'fabric' in place while I worked. I hoped the ambulance had gotten to her in time.

***

The woman had awoken when she was dumped into the ice bath and began to frantically splash about. She was bound and gagged, but couldn't remember exactly how she had gotten into such a mess. She turned her head when she noticed the jittery teen sifting through her draws, knocking things over and making a general mess.

Her name was Jordyn Heath, she was 22, and her blood type was AB+. Everett knew almost everything about the woman in the bathtub, but she knew nothing of him, and that's the way he wanted to keep it. He had covered his face, he wasn't stupid, and now a cheap hockey mask now shielded his face from her prying eyes. Everett finally spun to face her, a straight razor clutched tightly in his hand. Jordyn seemed to be screaming at him and making a fuss, putting Everett more on edge.

"I really d-don't want to hurt you, you see I really need to borrow someth-thing," he stammered crouching beside the bath and rubbing his temple. A nervous sweat coated his skin and stained his hooded sweater and the thought of how important his next actions were gave him a headache. "Please, just hold still. I'll make sure you're all right."

That was when he plunged the razor into her cheek, working it under her skin and soft flesh. She wept and wailed, but only a muffled cry could be heard through the fabric. Once Everett had managed to free the chunk of face from her head he realised how deep he had cut. "Oh my god I'm so sorry! Please calm down, shit, shit, shit!" He tried to hush her deep, uneven breathing as he placed his trophy in an ice box he'd found in her kitchen.

Jordyn was in hysterics and she could see the fearful look in his honey eyes through the mask. That was the last thing she could see before he butchered her eye. Managing to retrieve it only after she had blacked out. Everett attempted to clean her up as best he could, but quickly dialled an ambulance on her house phone and left it to ring as he made his way home, the bloodied cooler in hand.

***

"Everett, you silly boy," my brother's voice chuckled from behind me. As if a deer caught in headlights I turned to him, my eyes landing on his busted lip and bloodied nose. He stalked over to me, his expression unreadable and squatted down in front of me. Lovingly caressing my bloodied cheek he took the needle from me.

Staring directly into my eyes he started to stitch slowly. I bit my tongue, refusing to close my eyes and break the electric feeling his gaze was giving me. Finishing the stitching he bit the fishing line off and tied it before grabbing the knife from the table. He cut the excess skin off the face of the woman who wore it before me and kissed me under my new eye.

I smiled.

He leaned forwards until our breath mixed and I swallowed nervously. Excitement sparking within me.

"Oh brother," he spoke in a low, husky tone; "Wrong eye, idiot."

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[A/N] I would like to admit that the inspiration for this chapter prompted the creation of this novel—which originally was a short story—came from sitting inside a cardboard box two years ago and roughly planning and drafting it out on the inside of said box in marker. Anyway... This chapter takes place 1 years ago and 4 years following last chapter. Finally don't forget to vote and comment if you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you again soon! :)

~ Fawn ❤