Black Maiden here again. Another one of my works...this one is a little old, I think I forgot to upload it ^^; Oh well...the usual warnings. Suicide, and this time, incest and non-consensual sex. I guess that's it, have fun reading.

Dear Brother

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The soft sound of the water soothed him a little. He forced his breath out slowly, trying to cool down his nerves. Really, this wasn't anything to get so upset about. He didn't know why he was so excited.

It wasn't like killing yourself was such a big deal.

Heh. He smiled a little. He wished he could see their faces when they would find him. Or rather, *his* face. Too bad he wouldn't be there to see it. He imagined it now: shocked. No, not shocked, he thought. It would be....angry. Yes. Angry, because he finally had found a way to escape. Escape from him.


That bastard. Did he really think he would put up with this forever? Probably. If it were Neil's choice, he would be in his grasp forever. Ha! He'd show him, that...


Don't get angered now, he reasoned himself. He noticed his fists were clenched, knuckles already turning white. This is supposed to be your night. Don't think of him. There. That's better. He put one hand in the water; it was just the right temperature. Slowly, he stepped into the hot water, still fully clothed; only without his socks and shoes. He didn't want him to give him the pleasure of seeing him naked; after all, he had seen him that way enough times. He rested his head against the cold wall and stared at the ceiling. How much times had he been here, after Neil had visited him, feeling so incredibly *dirty*. Countless. He shook his head. Don't think about it, he thought again. Not tonight.

He looked to his right, and there it was, lying on the edge of the tub. The knife. He picked it up and let the metal shimmer in the pale light of the room. Swallowing, he closed his eyes. Don't be so nervous, he said to himself. After all, it's not like you haven't done this before. Just cut, only deeper. Like that...

Slowly, he put the knife against his wrist without looking. Opened his eyes. Now! He pressed the knife against his flesh and moved it to his elbow. He grimaced. Fuck. Deeper, deeper, deeper. He closed his eyes again. Moved downwards. He felt the blood beginning to seep out but didn't stop. He was going to do this right.

When he was sure he must have hit a vein, he moved to his other wrist. He had to open his eyes for a moment, but tried not to look at his arm. He saw the water, though. Red. It made him feel dizzy. Then, he closed his eyes again and repeated the motion; just like on his other arm.

There. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, so light, he almost couldn't think. He started at the ceiling. Laughed a little. Wasn't this the moment his life should be flashing in front of him? He didn't see anything. But then again, he hadn't been much to begin with. True, he had been captain of the football team, the girls loved him and every boy in the school, no, in the city, dreamed to be friends with him, but that didn't say much, did it? On the outside, he was considered as the ideal son-in-law, with perfect manners and enough money, but on the inside...

He was rotten. Fuck, how he hated himself. It was his fault, his fault, his fault, all those things that had happened on that night...

Ah, there it was. His life before his eyes. Hadn't he been an adorable kid? Until age twelve, that is. When mom had re-married. His dad had died from a heart attack when he was one, he couldn't even remember him. But now. Suddenly, there were two other children, and that man.

Crystal was a cutie. He had been really happy to have a younger sister. Now he had someone that he could teach things, and play the big brother. She was only two years, and didn't understand what was going on, but she had liked him from the start, just as he had liked her. He smiled when he thought about her.

And then, Neil. Sixteen years old. His big brother he had looked up to. His idol. When he was little, he wanted to be just like him. Popular and handsome, smart and strong.

Boy, had he been wrong.

At first, they had been the perfect little family. He had been worried his mom would forget about him when she had others to care for, but it was just like before, only with more people. Because the house was too small, they had moved to a bigger place. But even that house had too little bedrooms for them all, so he shared a bedroom with Neil. That was basically when it all started.

At first, it were only comments that were out of place, that made him feel uneasy, but it didn't stop. Neil started to touch him. Only when they were alone. At night, Neil would crawl in his bed and touch him at places he shouldn't be touched. He begged Neil to stop, saying he would tell their parents, but Neil said they wouldn't believe him anyway. He would just deny everything and they would think he was just a pervert for thinking such things about his older brother. It all made sense to him then.

He drew a shaky breath. Why wouldn't he just die? He didn't want to see those things...all those things he tried to forget to hard. But they didn't stop. Just like Neil didn't stop. He continued, even taking it further, raping him brutally, but only when their parents weren't home because it hurt, it hurt so much he would scream and he always hoped the neighbors would hear it. But they never did.

And he couldn't tell his parents. Neil said it was his fault, his fault for just being so goddamn pretty. And he had believed him. It was their secret. And what had been his idol in the beginning was his biggest nightmare now. The one who made him do things such as killing himself.

But that wasn't the end of it.

At age twenty, four years later, Neil had finally moved out. He thought it would be the end; finally, he would be free. Wrong. Of course, Neil would visit them ever so often, preferably when their parents were out. And still he didn't tell them. Because he still believed it was his fault.

He knew what was coming now, the inevitable, *that* memory, the one thing he didn't want to remember.

The day he killed his mother and sister.

They had just been coming from the zoo. Crystal loved the zoo. He was driving them, mom and Crystal and himself, home. Dad had a cold so he couldn't come with them. He knew today there was a football match on television that he really wanted to see, so he was driving over the speed limit. Mom was a little worried and asked him to drive slower, but he told her it would be okay. Which of course it wouldn't be.

At the zoo, they had been looking at the monkeys. Two monkeys had been, well, humping each other. Crystal had been confused and had asked what they were doing. He had grinned a little stupidly but mom had simply answered that they were making babies. Now, in the car, Crystal had apparently remembered that and asked:

"Brian, are you and Neil going to make babies too?"

He felt like he had been slapped. Couldn't move. Mom's eyes had widened and asked Crystal what she meant by that. She answered:

"Well, one time, when you and dad weren't home, I heard weird noises coming from Neil's and Brian's bedroom and I went over to look." She giggled. "They were doing like the monkeys!" More giggling.

Silence. Not only in the car, but in his head too. He remembered feeling hot and cold at the same time. Mom had turned her head to him, those big blue eyes, the same color as his', confused, scared.


And his name was the last word she said. He hadn't been paying attention to the traffic, and heard the loud sound of the claxon too late. He hit the brakes, but to no avail. They hit a large truck and after that it was just darkness.

No, no, no, why did he have to remember this now? He thought he had locked this memory out of his mind forever. He didn't want to see this, not now. Not ever.

It was a miracle he survived. The car was total-loss, but he was alive. Just barely. He felt like all his bones had been broken and someone had been hammering with a mallet on his head. He didn't remember the list of all his injuries. It was simply too long. Even now, two years later, he still hadn't fully recovered. He was still seeing doctors and he couldn't lift heavy things without pain. His football career was over, that was for sure.

But even without football, he was still the most popular boy in the school. They obviously didn't care he had killed his them. Still adored him just the same. He was still the same boy as before the accident, to them anyway. Because in his head, there was nothing but darkness. He lived with the pain, everyday, and with the knowledge he had killed them, it almost was too overwhelming. It pained him to see that his dad still cared for him. He didn't understand why he would. Dad had said he didn't blame him. It was an accident. Not his fault. He wasn't the one to blame.

But he didn't believe dad. And there was one person who made him remember it was his fault. Neil. Every time he went to visit them, he would come up to his room and tell him. Made sure he didn't forget.

He couldn't take it anymore. It had finally caught up with him. And he didn't care. He wasn't raised religiously, but he really hoped there was a place, where maybe, he could see his mom and sister again. Maybe.

His vision was getting blurry. Finally. The water was beginning to get cold and all he wanted was to get over with this. He felt himself falling into darkness...

He gasped. Was that...? Yes, he had heard the door slamming. Neil's voice calling out his name. Footsteps on the stairs. He had left the bathroom door open. Could his wish be fulfilled? Could he see Neil's face, for one last time? Yes. The door opened.

"Ah, here you are. You know you can't hide fr-" A gasp. "Brian!"

He opened this eyes, slowly, turned his head to the side, and looked at his brother's face.

"Hello, Neil."