I don't want to write down all those details of what happened in between. You've already asked me about every single brown-edged fork-print on my chest and back. I don't want to tell you about our most intimate moments. About how he felt when he saw the blood and my fear; emotions I didn't think he could feel in such a moment. Panic had gripped me by the throat. I couldn't stop my legs from shaking. Couldn't stand. Couldn't breathe. And the only thing mirroring itself on his face was excitement. So he pulled out the fork out of the small of my back, his trembling fingers smearing out the blood over my skin with care. Dragged me by the collar of my outstretched t-shirt to the bedroom. The rest you can guess. The rest I won't tell. The rest I will cherish.
The bed was too soft somehow, too nice, too cool and sweat-embedded. I softly threw myself off on the floor and watched his ankles as he walked back and forward between the room, the toilet and the kitchen and I thought that he finally headed out. As if forbidden to raise my gaze.
All was quiet but the silent buzz of the refrigerator echoing through the lonely and cold walls of the kitchen humming me to sleep.
A flower field, the flower field of my dreams; my sanctuary of solitude. I won't tell you any details about something this personal, not even if you bring that camera with you that you had on the first day and shove it up my face to make me talk or do something. I might just smile and then get annoyed; like one does when they try to make you laugh after crying. No, I won't tell you about the flower field, about my sanctuary of solitude. I will just tell you one thing about it, and that will come later. I guess you already know about it though. But I just need to write it down too, I need to complete my story, I need to give this closure to myself. To us; me and my brother.
But there he was. My brother, sitting on the floor in front of the persistently flimmering television, cursing silently at it and giving it a hard blow on the side. His attention was drawn to my naked figure standing in the small hallway. I felt cold and left out by him. I placed my legs closer to each other and hugged my quaking self.
He patted on the spot beside himself on the carpet for me to sit. I sat beside him and we watched the flimmering television screen with each other, listening to the muffled buzz as he placed his arm about my shoulders, bidding me to lean on him. Just a day like any other. Just a day. The crows singing happily outside, the naked trees dancing in the wind and the people walking, walking to the destinations they would never reach. Just a day like any other.
The feeling of skin against skin is rather strange. Cold at first and then welcomingly warm. So if you just take that first step, the rest is easy. Almost like jumping into a swimming pool.
I wrapped my other arm about his neck. He was my only one, my last drop of blod. I stared at him questioningly when he pushed me down on my back, his eyes flickering from my lips to my body to my gaze; those greens with a gentle touch of honey. His dry and warm hands brought mine further about his neck as he lowered his face, the tip of his nose touching mine and bending it slightly like it had done so many times before, as if to emphasize the fact that we were so close and yet so far away. I touched his face, the light outgrowth on his cheeks and he gave in to it, closing his eyes and following my hand before leaving a trail of kisses on my chest, down to my crotch, my body heaving with every breath that filled it. Christian closed his lips about my member, letting his tongue roll over it before retreating and putting a teasing kiss above it. His straightforward touch sent a shiver down my spine, my right leg weakly closing in to my body. I pushed his head back, and sitting up, I watched as he stubbornly didn't let go. I looked at him, at his hair parting unevenly at the back of his head that my hand was holding on to. It'd grown so long by now. It'd been the two of us for so long by now.
My eyelids felt heavy, so I let them fall.
Why wasn't it enough no matter how I followed his will? "I have a girlfriend."
He choked. Coughed. Sat up. "What?" he asked, his eyebrows quirking, yet not as enraged as I'd supposed he would be. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand sloppily, his intense gaze boring into mine. Why did he look so kind all of a sudden.
"I said, I have a girlfriend," I repeated drowsily, turning my head away from him. Now he was the one left out in the cold, wasn't he?
"No one you know," I smiled, content, resisting the urge to scratch the sole of my foot. I could see how he pulled in his lower lip from the corner of my eye.
"You bitch," he whispered, as if not having the guts to say it louder. "You bitch!" he repeated louder, his eyes fiery with anger. I know how much he wanted to hit me, but he didn't. The next thing I heard was the TV being mashed to pieces by his kicks and punches and throws. I covered my ears, refusing to look, hunching into a ball.
Quickly I pulled his pants on that were lying on the floor, abandoned because of his wish to violate me. He hit his fist through the TV screen in his frenzy, his blood dripping heartwrenchingly. I'd unconscioussly shielded my head, throwing myself in a corner like an animal.
"You...you're bleeding." My voice couldn't have been more than a mere whisper.
"I-DON'T-CARE!" he roared, coming dangerously close. I felt myself crawl further into my corner, my hold of myself tightening. I closed my eyes, wishing it all away. I wanted to turn back time, to one second ago, to one minute ago, to a year ago. To when I was five and he'd hold my hand and we'd walk down the pavement, just the two of us and our ice-creams that'd devour all our thoughts.
A whimper escaped me as his healthy hand grabbed me by the hair, the blood smudging against my face as he caressed my lips with the back of a blood-drenched finger; this was my opportunity to escape. I caught that hand and twisted it, having him writhe in pain on the carpet as I threw open the door and let myself free.
Almost stumbling down the stairs, I shoved the front door open with my whole body, the cold hitting me unkindly, enveloping my chest.
I heard the faint sound of my brother's feet rapidly clappering far behind me. I didn't dare look back. The only thing I was able to do was to command my feet to move faster. I practically ran down the street; feeling all eyes on me as I had too little clothes on my scrawny body.
It was too scary to imagine what Christian would do if he got his hands on me. I shut my eyes and ran down the streets, that I knew like the palm of my hand, as fast as I could. No time to wave to George in the convenience store, no time to buy gum as an excuse for buying cigarettes from Billy in the street corner near Lena's, and no time to feel the pain from falling down and hitting my burnt hand against the pavement. A dry, orange leaf found its way into my mouth as I got up on my feet. I spit it out and continued to sprint.
By the time I reached Lena's house, my lungs were burning and my sweat pearled on my forehead. I was quite sure I'd lost him. It was hard to breathe, it was hard to take just another step, but I opened the gate and stepped in. The guilt and fear of what would happen if I went back quietly yet steadily creeped over me, forcing up the bile in my throat. The door was just a knock away. Yet I hesitated. What if he found me? What would he do to Lena? What if he hurt her?
I glanced over my shoulder. I had time to go back. The fence tore open a flap in my jeans and thigh as I jumped over it and dashed where I thought he wouldn't find me; the woods behind Lena's house. Daring to slow down, I saw him moving, his shirt flap flying about him like wings as he hopped over a set of bushes.
Lactic acid in my legs. Unable to move. I forced my legs to break off into a run. The trees were becoming more open and it was easier for him to spot me. Over the railway and up the slope, into the woods again, the leaves about me flying up into a violent dance to the aural music behind me. I stopped. The golden stardust of the autumn sun must've played a trick on me. My legs were stuck in the ground. Two heavy blocks of cement. Brown, red, orange and green waltzing about me. My heart pounding furiously in my chest. Longing to break free. It hurt to swallow. Didn't dare to swallow. Didn't dare to look back. My quaking legs gave after for my weight and I fell on my knees, decending a bit down the slope.
The thought that the danger was over...
A flower field; the flower field of my dreams, my sanctuary of solitude. Was it that far out of my reach?
I don't know your ways of getting me to feel better, to forget about this. I know that I won't forget, that I won't loose myself in this, that I will believe in him. In him and me; whatever that's left of us. I just wanted to tell you this, perhaps to make you go away, perhaps as a cry for help. I just wanted to tell you my story. This is all it was. It was just my brother and me and all of the small figures in our lives that won't matter because it wasn't about them. It was about my bruised body and my brother's broken soul. And there is nothing more to say. There is nothing to tell of how I dared to look back, nothing of how I knew that my only drop of blood was crushed. No meaning in telling you how I cried and pounded his body and nothing to tell of the funeral I didn't attend. It doesn't matter anymore, the outside world. It never did. It was just me and Christian and the way he held my hand and bought me ice-creams, the way he violated my very existence with his every breath. The way my love for him was and never will be quenched.
I'll be the only one to remember all of this, that's why I wrote it. Because we are ever burning butterflies with no name and we leave no memory behind.
OOH cheesy, emo, oh so depressing. Let's all cry together. Poor baby Chris. I loved him XD He was hawt. I was going to add more in the end, about what happens a bit later, perhaps from the reader's point of view, but I consider that unnecessary. Although, if someone think "oh motherfucker you suck, you should've added that you bitch!" you can always tell me that XD
Much love and don't forget to review!
spookyschizo: Thank you very much hun! Hope you enjoy the last chapter too.
Aikida: Well, let's not forget it's you who doesn't have time to beta. The fork...bwahahaha it was such a tease. I was gonna make it worse but I saved it for this chap.