Author’s Note: This chapter was difficult to write, but I managed to grind it out. Thank you and enjoy!

The Concept of Love

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Chapter 3:
Death: She’s Merciless, Uncaring, Inconsiderate and Horribly Cruel

MISSY:

Why is Callavayla’s head bigger than Alek’s?

My lips curve into a slight frown as I stare down at my crayon drawing. It was a colourful image of Alek, Calla and I, holding hands. We were at the beach; the yellow-crayoned sun is shinning brightly in the corner of the page, with the blue sky suspended befittingly behind it; cloudless.

I take my yellow crayon and silently colour in the last of the sand, pleased with the result. I reached for my pink crayon next, to paint my dress with, but it wasn’t to be found with the rest of my crayons.

I glance around the space, finding the pink crayon lying dejected on the carpet. Smiling, I pick it up and continue colouring my dress.

Then something caught my eye. I glance up at my stuffed toys, which were sitting by the wall, staring at random places in my room.

I stare at Mr. Unicorn, saddened, because he didn’t look as happy as he normally did. He looked miserable, scared, and almost sorry. But he didn’t do anything wrong, so why did he have to be sorry? I watched his beady black eyes and smiled, but they remained sorrowful. If anything, they appeared more heartbroken.

And it hurt. I wanted Mr. Unicorn to be happy in our new home, but he wasn’t. No one was.

A harsh, cold shiver tingled down my spine. I understood then. Mr. Unicorn wasn’t scared because of the new house; he was scared because he saw him before I ever could. And even in his beady eyes, I could see the reflection of the man who haunts and taunts my dreams endlessly.

He was behind me.

Large, rough hands fisted my hair in an instant and yanked me to my feet, and I felt the pain immediately singe into my scalp.

Someone screamed. I think it was me.

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ALEK:

Damn.

It was late, and I had really hoped the day would drag on so I wouldn’t have to return home, but unfortunately - and just to spite me, I suppose - the day had flown by. I can tell by Callavayla’s unenthusiastic and pessimistic face that she agreed with me on that one.

We head up the path to the door and stop. Reluctantly, I rested my hand on the shinny golden door knob. I took a deep, calming breath, preparing to open the door to the pits of hell that was home, when, without warning, a loud, piercing scream violently penetrated our ears and effortlessly slapped our brains silly.

I was dazed and shaken beyond belief. Calla was breathing hard beside me, almost traumatized.

In an instant I ripped the door open and heard the heart-wrenching sobs echo throughout the hollow, dark house. They were undoubtedly my mothers.

I ignored her. I wouldn’t care less if she was dying on the floor in the kitchen, or had just been raped, all that mattered was Missy. I raced upstairs, Calla behind me; all the way to the core of the screams; my sister’s screams.

Tears pricked at my eyes and I fought off the urge to scream as I opened the door to my sister’s room. The sight that greeted me brought me to my knees, and I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness surge throughout my whole being.

“Missy!” Calla cried, running to the bed, and shoving dad off of the little girl. I didn’t look up, but I heard the thump when dad was caught off guard, landing on the floor beside the bed.

Missy was sobbing uncontrollably. Blood marked the carpet and stained the walls, it mattered itself in her dark curly locks and discoloured her clothes. The room was a disaster. Things were everywhere, more blood intertwined with the mess.

Calla had Missy in her arms, rocking her gently, cooing her to be silent. I stood and staggered over to them. A blow to my side knocked me off my feet. Pain seared at my side and white hot tears blurred my vision as I knocked into the dresser, my head hitting the wall with a hollow ‘thud’.

“No, Alek!” I heard Calla scream. Spots appeared before my eyes, forcing me to blink to try to remain conscious. Screams and sobs and tears and so much pain swarmed in and around my head, mocking me, suffering, and I felt like I was going to go deaf. It hurt so much. The sound was unbearable, and I had to place my hands over my ears as my only means to stop everything. I cried, loud and hard, pleading for everything to stop, for life to be better. I wanted our suffering to end.

A loud, ear-splitting crack echoed in my ears, followed by a deafening scream. My eyes flew open, heart thumping with wretchedness and complete rage. I was on my feet in one swift motion. My brain was throbbing painfully in my head, but I didn’t care. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill the man who’d ruined my life and forced so much pain into the lives of my siblings.

The man who fucked it all up for everyone.

I tackled him to the ground, throwing him off of Calla, who he had struck in the face.

My fist connected with his face so forcefully that I heard his head snap back and screams explode in his throat.

“You little fucking shit,” he shrieked.

I scrambled away from him, running to Missy, who, to my horror, was bleeding in the head. I noticed the glass scattered around her, and then the broken mirror. Dad had smashed her head against the mirror, and I could see spikes of glass sticking into her skull.

My eyes closed fleetingly, praying and pleading and begging and wishing and hoping for none of this to have happened. None of it.

My eyes opened again, but the image of my sister - lying on the carpet, blood seeping from her scalp and from the shards of glass piercing her head - wouldn’t leave my vision. It wasn’t real. None of this was real…

Everything else happened in a blur.

I was moving fast, desperately, and I was by her side in a second, my brain unaware of anything; my body taking charge. Then she was in my arms, Calla by my side, and we were running.

My dad was cussing and groaning, and then he was after us. We could never outrun him. Where would we go?

So I shoved Calla into my room, where she collapsed onto my bed. She was bleeding somewhere, but neither she nor I paid any attention to it. I slammed the door shut and locked the door, my back to it.

Missy was limp in my arms, but I was oblivious to it. I slid down the door until I hit the ground, hugging my sister closer to my body. Her blood tangled and mixed with mine, but I paid no notice. I stroked her hair distantly, subconsciously avoiding the shards in her head, and my heart calmed itself. The thumping was subsiding.

I glanced up at Callavayla. She was sitting on the floor against the bed, bleeding, but she merely staring at her feet vaguely. There was a large gash in her arm and it was bleeding badly, but she didn’t take notice. She just stared…

I jumped when someone began pounding on the door, more likely my dad. He was yelling at us, swearing, and damning us to hell. But we didn’t care.

He stopped eventually. Probably passed out in the hallway. His breath had stunk of alcohol. He’d been drinking.

For what seemed like forever we stayed like that, silent, unmoving. Then finally when I couldn’t bear it any longer my tears came trickling down my cheeks, sobs escaping my throat and my head swarming again.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t deal with this kind of torture anymore. I couldn’t even face school now, could I? Not after…this.

Missy…

Callavayla watched me as I stood up stiffly, Missy still limp in my arms as I walked over to the bed. I lay Missy down in the middle. Calla came up to the other side of the bed and sat down at the edge. Glaring at her feet, she remained silent.

I just stared at Missy.

I knew she was dead, but I didn’t care, and I slowly removed each individual piece of glass gently and with forced concentration, not caring when each shard cut me deep, real deep. But then I realized; the slash of the glass was nothing compared to the slash in my heart; no physical pain could possibly come close to the amount of mental, emotional and spiritual pain I was feeling at that precise moment …ever…

Life has never seemed so fucked up.

The glass was gone and I was snuggled up to my dead sister under the blankets before I realized it. Calla was still watching me, as silent as ever. Her eyes weren’t judging, or sorrowful, or anything really. She was…blank. And I feared for her at that moment. She was still bleeding.

Quietly I released Missy. Taking Calla’s hand, I guide her to my bathroom, which I share with her, and I open the medicine cabinet. We say nothing as I bandage her up and kiss her cheek.

Then suddenly she bursts into tears, holding her face in her hands, her sobs muffled by her hands. I hold her tightly, unwilling to let her go until her pain had subsided. And when it did, I lead her back into my room; Missy hadn’t moved an inch; still quiet, still motionless, and still dead.

“I love you Alek,” Callavayla whispered to me, kissing my cheek and then lying down in bed with Missy. She draws the little girl to her body, holding her, trying her hardest to relish – to appreciate - whatever little aura the little girl still had left within her lifeless body.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, joining my sisters. I curl up with them, Missy between us, and I take Calla’s hand, holding it gently, trying to comfort her distressed thoughts even though I couldn’t even comfort my own. The one thing I needed right now was someone who would comfort me, hold me, love me; someone who would take away my pain.

I thought about that for a moment, watching Calla fall into a restless sleep, and I immediately changed my mind. Callavayla needed that more than I did. More than anyone did. She didn’t deserve any of this.

Then I thought of my dad and how much I hated his guts. And my mum’s too. I just want them to leave us alone, to fuck off, and to just die. And I don’t care how harsh or cruel that might sound to anyone else. It’s exactly what I wanted. It’s exactly what they deserved.

My thoughts scattered again, and I began wondering about school. Calla and I were going to boarding school, a place where we could get away from our parents and never come back, not until we finished. And by that time, we won’t have to live with mum and dad anymore. I’ll be old enough to take care of myself, and that’ll include Calla too.

I will not have one of my siblings having to suffer like this again. Not like Missy did. She didn’t deserve any of it. None of us did.

Missy…

I hissed as my tears stung my hot face. I couldn’t deal with this any longer. A person can only take so much abuse.

“Alek? Are you ok?” Calla asked me, her voice just above a whisper.

I shook my head. No. I wasn’t okay. I haven’t been okay for a long, long time, and something tells me I’ll never be okay.

I’m doomed to suffer for eternity.

Missy…

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I watched from the kitchen window as mum labored over the hole in the ground before her in our backyard.

When we’d woken up, it was like nothing had changed. Dad was gone. He’d gone to work already, and mum was acting as if she didn’t get beaten and raped last night, again. It was positively disgusting to look at.

Calla and I were about to leave, but when we noticed what my mother was doing, we decided to stay and say our farewell to our little sister. She deserved a goodbye, an ‘I love you’, and for fuck’s sake, she deserved a lot of things, like a funeral, for one, but she wasn’t going to get that either. She wasn’t going to get anything anymore.

We watched in silence at the hole in the ground in our back yard. We were perfectly concealed by trees, so we were without suspicion, but that did little to ease my pain. I wanted us to get caught. I wanted my dad in jail. I wanted my mum in jail too, for torturing us just as much, for raping me. I wanted them caught.

Missy’s eyes were closed. I had to be the one to do it too. She was deathly white in the little grave we made her, and the already wilting flowers did little to help the situation. We started, as had the rain, and Callavayla had read her favourite poem as a prayer. Then the two of us prayed, said our goodbye’s and farewell’s, swore our revenge, and left, leaving mum to fill up the hole once more.

I glanced down at Calla. She hadn’t spoken much. She hadn’t cried much either since the outburst last night. She was silent. As was I. And it was so much better that way.

I took her hand, squeezing it lightly, which she squeezed back with the same gentleness, and we walked like that, hand in hand, not caring if we were brother and sister showing affection in public. As far as most people were concerned, we could have been boyfriend and girlfriend, not that I’d ever be like that with my sister. But the first thing we both needed right now was comfort, and we were the only people we could get it from, so what more could they expect?

I stare up at the overcast sky blankly, raindrops falling around me and on my face.

Life has never seemed so fucked up.

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Author’s Note: Wow that was difficult to write! But I’m happy with the result! n.n

I’ll update as soon as possible! Please review!

Kyle’s Precious Little Girl