Time, it seemed, had been stuck in his throat, and ever since then, it hadn't passed, frozen in its place. He choked on it, coughing so heavily that bloodied tears fell from his eyes, but still it wouldn't move, therefore he also became ice, staying in his place, just as time did.

He had a brother. That other boy, the brother, used to watch time pass on, watching the hands on the clock move slightly. That clicking sound, or was it a tick? The way the ballad, it, fell elegantly from the clock was hypnotizing, sedating, and possessing.

"A drug." he whispered as he thought it over, the tips of his fingers tracing over his moist lips in thought.

That drug, that moment of perfection, had failed to pass. He sat atop a stool, staring up at his grandfather clock, earnestly awaiting that faint ticking, the sound of the ringing when an hour passed. The pendulum in his clock taunted him. When he stared long enough, he could swear it was moving, but still it ended in silence.

"I will wait," his voice murmured, reassuring him. He waited, praying a moment would pass, but even after sitting for what felt like a lifetime, he was all too aware of his ever-present youth. It was unnerving, and thus he trembled, staring, waiting, but without that time passing.

Still, he sat, feeling numbness crawl from his toes to his waist. He didn't shift, just stayed still, paralyzed by the feeling.

"I can not wait if time refuses to pass." he spoke, reaching his hand out for the first time since it had all started. He walked across the white tile, stretching his fingers out so they were capable of wrapping around the hammer. He grasped it, delicately fingering the metal handle within his right hand with his left approaching the clock as he walked. He lifted the hammer above the clock, prepared to smash his broken drug to shards. He brought it down. His face was expressionless. Then the hammer moved lower, colliding with wall below the clock, creating a hole through it. His left hand moved in the shape of a fist, colliding with the pendulum of the clock, breaking through the glass that made his hand bleed. He had wanted it this way, had wanted to touch it with his own flesh rather than allowing it to be ruined in any other way. It was something he had previously felt such emotion towards; it was his drug. He pulled it away, seeing the clock fall to the ground with every last screw following behind it.

A door was revealed with the shattering of the clock, one with a silver knob. He placed his fingers around it, opening it with a swift turn and entering the bright room. The lights were everywhere, blinding him, sending him into darkness. He knew it was there though, that brother of his that had taken his drug away, that had choked on time. He felt the face with his hand, the slim throat.

Pious, his brother had always been so pious. He could remember that as he thought of the boy's hands often covering his chest as he bowed his head down in prayer. He felt along his brother's face, lowering his fingers down to his brother's hand.

On the tips of the other's fingers, he felt smooth nails. They were cut cleanly, but that warm liquid with its metallic odor drifting into the junkie's nostrils was upon them, blood. He thought of why.trying to remember the reason his brother would have such a stained body. His throat.that was where time had been stuck, and he had tried to remove it.with his own hands.

Infinite admiration danced on the junkie's face. He smiled slightly, remembering the way his brother had always been so gentle, so helpful. Never once had the other hurt anyone, anything.

Soon he moved beyond the other's hands, tracing his finger's against his brother's jaw line once again. He felt how cold, how frozen the other had become. He was paralyzed, but didn't even have the option to move. Then he remembered how long he had been staring at that clock.not that it mattered since time didn't move as it was, so nothing had been missed. He continued on.

Over his brother's lips, his fingers could feel a spider web. Slowly he moved his hand downwards, the slick string touching his fingers even as he finally came to the bug with its eight legs extending outwards. He pulled away. He had always feared spiders. He was a better friend to his clock.the one he had destroyed in frustration.

Never again, he decided, never again would he be a slave to that lack of passing. He would destroy time's shell; destroy it so it could become free. He lifted his hand over the frozen body of his brother, bringing the hammer down against it. One blow, that was all it took for the rest to shatter. It was the mirror of the other's body, the way it cracked, the way his brother fell to the ground and melted to liquid; that liquid, which splashed against the floor, hitting the junkie's face and chest. He could also hear the sound of something softly bouncing along the ground.

He reached over, picking it up and holding it tightly within his hands. It was thread, but something else too. If the light hadn't blinded him, he would have been able to see it. If it hadn't, he would have seen his brother's blood spilled across his shirt; he would have seen that it was the spider's egg sack that he had picked it up off the cement floor. But he hadn't.and it had already begun hatching. The spiders crawled up along his skin, slipping into his flesh, into his mouth, and soon the same scene of his brother repeated, but this time within the junkie's body.

Time, it seemed, was stuck in his throat, and ever since then, it had not passed, frozen in its place. He choked on it, coughing so heavily that blood fell from his eyes, but still it would not move, so he too became chilled, staying in his place, just as time did.