His thin form so flat against the firm mattress that his body seems to be nonexistent under the thick dark brown blankets. Only his head pokes out from beneath the warm layers, the side of his face is pressed against the itchy naked mattress. His cheek seems even more severely gaunt as it presses against the mattress. His eye lids are so delicately ceiled, his lashes even thicker and darker as they collect together forming a gentle curl. His pale pink full lips partly ajar almost seem to be pouting out. His perfect milk skin and contrasting dark hair compliment each other as well as the other features, and the fact he is motionless, not even seeming to take in a single breath, further gives the impression he is inhuman.

Yes, so calm, clean, and still. His beauty distracting from any other possible flaws. As long as he does not move, speak, or most of all; look at you with those eyes, his inner darkness will remain concealed while he sleeps.

"Omg, you're so #$ing hot!!"

"I want your body, man."

"I just want to squeeze you!!"

All these comments posted, all saying the same things in different ways. The beauty and flaw with internet, is that you don't know what are lies and what are truths.

The truth was that I was not the sleeping beauty in the pictures I posted. Those pictures were of my older brother, Taylor. He was older only by one year and a half, but I was much bigger, both in bone structure and in fat percentage. We might have shared the same basic hair and eye color, but our manners of conduct couldn't be more different. I always felt relief that I was nothing like him, but the fact the world accepted Taylor, and automatically over-looked me, had eventually driven me to dislike myself and constantly find things to admire in him.

I loved the internet world, it was easier to navigate and reside in then the real world.

Taylor seemed to enjoy being anywhere but inside the house. He didn't talk much, but he knew how to say a few concise phrases in order to keep the few select people buzzing around him. And Taylor hated the internet; he said it was the "idiot box for loser-rejects with nothing better to do."

I don't remember us ever having any real conversations, but his actions always spoke loud enough. I despised when he would come home. I managed to stay out of his way through sticking to my computer screen, but the back of my mind constantly burned when he was lurking about the house or just in the next room.

One day, it finally happened.

It began with the front door slamming open louder then it usually did when Taylor made his entrance into the apartment. Usually no words are exchanged, but this time, Mother shouted. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH THAT?!" Taylor made no sound, but I could feel him draw near. My limbs stiffened and my heart pulsed slowly up my throat and back down keeping me from exhaling, as I sat at my desk with the computer screen in front of my wide gaping eyes.

My bedroom door more or less shattered then it did open, then in barged the youthful slender figure of my older brother, the secret muscles in his arms were revealed as he clenched a metal bat across his chest. And oooh, those eyes, I wish he would beat me and get it over with, but he stood for a few moments, his jaw set and those eyes drilling me with silent still hostility.