A Brother's Love

Thank you reviewers!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU WITH ALL OF MY TWISTED LITTLE HEART.
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I know that I could find a exact replica of him, same hair, same eyes, same scent, even, and I know, I know, that it would still not be him. It would never be the smae skin, the same touch, it would not be him. It would not be my little lover whom I so want after. No one will ever get to me, worm thier way to my heart and refuse to leave like him. No one will ever be able to say I loved them except him. No one will ever be able to call me thier's, that is, if he ever did...

Sometimes I wonder if he even feels anything. Sometimes I'l look into those eyes, and there, there will be nothing but pain, nothing but hatred. But he covers it, afraid that I'll say something, afraid that I'll do something. And so I learned exactly how much he despises the fact I love him like I do, and I also learned that I could be hurt. When I see him looking at me with hate, something pulls at my heart. Not something small. It hurts as if someone has taken a firm grasp on my heartstrings and gives a sharp tug on them. But he knows how I react to that, so he does his best to cover it quickly, does his best to hide anything from me but fear. I don't want to see that hate there. I don't want to, but I can't help. I refuse to let him go. I can't, I won't stand it if he ever leaves. I'd rather have him...I'd rather have him dead than gone.

He doesn't know how much I need him. I doubt he ever will. But I don't care. Maybe I'm being selfish but I don't care what he thinks. I. Need. Him. He may not need me ever, but I do provide a roof over his head, food in his mouth, and pleasure at times. But I know that is not the only things that a creature needds. A warm heart is one, and I'm sorry I don't posess one. If I did, perhapse I would be able to let him go. I won't let him be torn, taken, or let him run form me. Always, everything has been pried oput of my fingers, and I have never had the strenght the skill, the luck to ever win it, or take it back.

But then came along something so beautiful, so loving and so, so, perfect. My mother used to tell me that the day Lucious was born, so far away from my home, I fell into fits the entire day as that baby, that perfect little fragil soul was fighting for his life. How she knows that my brother was born that day is beyond me. But she is gone, and I killed her. She was in abstracting my view of him, she was in the way. I care not how she knew. But there, there was this child, an innocent little thing full of love and content. He didn't cry as a baby, only cooed to himself. And although I did not see him untill he was 3, I knew what him, in and out. I knew what he looked like, or what my mind told me sucha perfect child would lookl like, and he did. He was everything I had dreamnt of.

The first day I saw him, I knew he was mine. There I was, a strong demon at age 12, lithe of body and wise for my years, although I had been told I was quite the psychotic one, always using 'unique' methods to bed the whores I occasionally took, or the soul who I randomly slaughtered. I was a hellion of a demon, and even if I hade been raised with my poeple I was still considered 'abmornal' 'demented'. I was capible of killing anyone, a mother, a child, a whole family if need be, with out a sense of remorse, and I often partook in nercophilia, and cannibilism. And here, was this child, this innocent little child I had always wanted to see and touch, was here, at my doorstep, hidding behind his mother's dress, bright blue eyes staring at my mother, my other little brother, Shade, and me. Everyone watched as he came out from his mother's preistess gown and shyly approached us. I was the first to hold out my hand, and I nearly thought that I would die of joy as he walked on his shaky little legs towards me. I took him up into my arms into a hug, and i heard my mopther gasp. I glanced over and shot her a glare. I had never hugged her in the way I was holding this small boy to my chest, and I suppose she was jelous. Lucious, my little angel. My little angel had come to me.

Through out the years, as we grew, we saw each other often, until he was 5. Both and I and my mother were angered when his mother, Nanivra became hostile towards us, telling us to go away when we came to pay my father and brother a visit. But even though I shared this hate of Nanivra with my mother, it did nothing to save her from my rage of being kept from my angel. Slowly, oh so very slowly, I knew I was changing, my temper flaring for no reason in particular, my rage would not be quited. I would not be calmed with anything. I would not be seperated of him. I told her this. She hated me. She called me every name under the sun, and one night after I had gotten the stitches that trail up from the ends of my mouth to mid-cheek out of defiance, she screamed at me.

All would have been fine, all would have been forgotten in the morning, for we were both used to the fact she never shut up, until one little word left that vulgar mouth of hers.

"Incestous"

I killed her that night, yet I knew she had been right. I did...I did love my brother far too much for it to be sociably acceptable. I loved my brother in the way I was raised not too. I was in love with a child of my father. But this did nothing to me, the killing of my mother, the realization that I DID love him like that. Neither of them affected me. The next day was quite an adventure. After I had Shade help me bury our mother, whom he too hated, we travled to Nanivra's home. Our excuse was that Shade needed a place to stay, as he was nine, and I, at 15 could not support a child on my own. We both knew that I could easily do so, but it was a good excuse to take refuge in Nanivra's home. Shade had his own personal resons to stay, and I of corse, I had Lucious.

Yet as we arrived, we noticed Nanivra's town was all in black, the mourning color. So, out of curosity, I had Shade ask whom was dead. The answer came from man who was in mid-twenties, who looked emancipated, (as did the rest of the villigers) and despite the fact that he was wearing the color reserved for mourning the loss of a sould, he smiled, and informed of us of the festivities.

"Our preistess, our messenger of Gyroples, our savior, has promised to save us all from famine! We are saved, we are saved, good boy!"

Rolling my eyes I thought of how stupid these people were to follow something they couldn't see, and never answered. But to each his own, everyone has thier way of putting thier mind at rest. "How does she plan going about this?"

"She, she, had a vision. A vision, yes. And in it, Gyroples, he talked to her, told her how she is to bring our faith back, and there is but one way to do so." th man said, tears filling his eyes. "She, whom so loves her god, she has given up her child as a sacrifice. He's been buried alive to please our god, bless his soul. He was a brave child, a true son of Gyroples..."

It took a moment for it to hit me, exactly whom he was talking about. Nanivra...she was the preistess, and Lucios, my little angel, my little one, mine, was...He was to the sacrifical cause of soemthing he had no control in.

I don't believe I've ever run faster than I did at that moment, I don't belive that there was or ever will be a soul who caught aflame as mine did at that very moment. I raced to where I could feel him, and there was a small mound of earth, a small bare patch of upturned dirt. I dug, feeling one of my fingernails rip off inthe process, but I could not stop untill I had the small dirt covered body against my chest. I sobbed, tears stinging my eyes, and craddled him to me, whispering for him to come back to me. I knew he had to, or I would never stop. I would never be able to stop the rage, the anger, that they had done this to such a beautiful, loving, kind, little soul. I would paint the Earth, Heaven, Hell, and anywhere in between red with the blood of innocents. Everything, everyone would pay for what had been done to me.

I'm sure that Lucius sometimes wishes he never woke, that his frail little body had remained still and cold. But he was still cliinging to life as my tears fell to his mess of golden hair. His bright eyes stared up at me in relief and he muttered my name, then fell back into unconciosness. I knew he would be okay, that everything was going to be alright. But I knew of one small village who would set eyes upon a walking fury of hate.

I left Lucious in the care of Shade in a small abandoned barn-like thing, lying on the hay, warning him that if Lucious even twitched, he was to come get me immedently. I made sure he understood, and kissed both him and Lucious on the forhead, telling him I was to be back shortly.

I killed them all. Every man, woman and child took thier last breath in that village. I snuck into most houses quietly, and woke them, snapped their necks, being sure to hurry through all the rooms. I did the entire town without calling an alarm. But, I saved the temple for last, and I made sure that everyone was woken up by ripping off the gurads limbs and letting his screams waken everyone else in the temple.

I spared no life, no monks, or priest, nor dove. I slaughtered them all. I saved Nanivra for last.

I cornered her, and saw the fear in her eyes. She knew she would not escape, there was no one to scream for, no one to save her. I adavnced on her until she was forced against the wall,mumbling her prayers...

And, thus I have Lucious. He's grown from a sweet little angel to a crying flustered adolesance. I know he deserves better than what I have put him through, and I know I should let him free, and let him leave this prison of a house I have locked him within...But I can't. I love him very much, and as I glance to him, sleeping softly beside me. as I have promised once a week he shall have anight of me not trying to touch him, or force anything one him, I wonder. Has he come to know how much I've given up for him? Does he know that I do, I do, I do love him? Does he know how far I've decayed in my head, how insane and how wrong I really am? Does...Does he care?