Shades of Gray -- Ch. 8 is up.

Arthur sat at the kitchen table, a glass of scotch in one hand. He stared at the cellar door, counting the locks. Seven. That seemed appropriate somehow; divine. He chewed at his bottom lip, holding desperately onto the heavy, warm feeling his buzz gave him; it was better than the empty, hopeless feeling in his chest when he wasn’t drinking. He hated this time, hated the waiting.

Nails scratched along the cellar door, and he heard muffled, hyena like laughter. He closed his eyes. They were down there, waiting. They were hungry, he knew. No matter how much he fed them, they were always hungry. He thought, as he so often did around these times, of the shotgun in the hallway closet. He thought about getting it down from the shelf, loading it. He thought about unlocking the cellar door and going down the stairs. He thought about pressing the double to the twins’ heads, one after the other, and pulling the trigger. He thought about the sound it would make, the mess. It wouldn’t be his problem, of course. If he ever found the courage, he would follow them.

It would be a mercy.

That laughter again, and another pass of nails against the wood. He sighed and drank his scotch. The shotgun would stay where it was, where it always stayed. He had never found that courage. He loved his boys too much, no matter what they were, no matter what he had to do to keep them. He looked down at his raw, red hands. He’d scrubbed them with steel wire brush. He was used to blood at work; this had been different. He couldn’t stand it like this. Still, it was necessary. It was what the twins needed.

It was never enough.

He loved his boys, perhaps a little too much. He indulged them. Hell, in some of their ways, he encouraged them. Anything to keep them. Anything to make them safe. The things he did, the things he allowed them to do… it scared him sometimes, how much he loved them. What he was capable of for them. He knew it would always be this way. Whatever the twins wanted, he gave them.

Luckily for him, the things in the cellar weren’t really his boys anymore.


“Arthur…” one them whispered through the door. His voice was low and rasping and harsh. “Arthur, I know you’re out there.”

He looked away from the door, feeling sick. He kept his eyes open; when he closed them, he could see them down there.

“Arthur, open the door.” There was a strange, barking sound, and the voice was soft again, sweet. “Daddy, please…”

Arthur got to his feet so fast the chair knocked over with a loud bang. There was the distinct clomping and scratching of them retreating down the stairs. He walked over to the door and checked the locks, even though he knew they were fine. When he heard muffled laughter at the bottom of the stairs, he kicked the door as hard as he could.

“Stay down there!” he yelled through the door, resting his forehead against it. He bared his teeth, his head aching terribly. “Just… just shut up.”

A knock on the front door scared him so badly he let out a high, rather girlish scream. There was another short burst of maniacal laughter from the cellar. The knock came again, louder this time. He looked at the door. “You two just keep quiet.” He said. “You hear me? You be silent.”

He heard them moving on the stairs, but they didn’t say anything, and when the knock came again, more like pounding now, he went to answer it. He pulled the door open, and Seth almost knocked him over rushing into the house.

“Where are they?” Seth snapped at him. “I need to see them.” He looked around.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Arthur shouted at him. “You need to leave right fucking now!”

“Casey!” Seth yelled, storming through the hall towards the stairs. “Cayden!”

“No!” Arthur lunged after him, caught him by the arm, and spun him around. “You need to leave! If they-“

“Seth?” Casey called. “Seth, help us.”

Seth looked over his shoulder, towards the kitchen. “Casey?”

“He put us down here.” Cayden called out, sounding hurt and scared and innocent. “Please, Seth.”

Seth pulled away from Arthur so hard that he nearly knocked the older man over again. He spun on his heel and ran for the kitchen. Arthur chased after him. He caught him by the collar, but the shirt tore and Seth slipped away. He skidded to a stop in front of the cellar door. “Cayden?” he called out.

Arthur saw fingertips slide under the door, the nails grimy and blood slicked. “Seth, unlock the door.” Casey pleaded.

Arthur did the only thing he could think of as Seth reached for the first dead bolt. He picked up one of the kitchen chairs and threw it at him. It hit him full in the back, the wooden slats snapping like twigs, and knocked him to the side. The twins made matching growling sounds, and one of them hit the door, making the hinges creak.

“Don’t touch him!” Casey snarled, his voice losing all of its sweetness instantly. “Arthur, don’t you fucking dare! He’s ours!”

“Get away from the door!” Arthur shouted, and kicked it. He heard them hissing.

Seth moaned and stirred under the chair, using his elbows to push himself up to his knees. Arthur glared down at him, feeling murderous. “Look at this mess.” He spat at the kid on the floor, using his toe to kick the broken chair away . “Look what you made me do.”

Seth didn’t reply to that. He felt along his head with his finger tips, which came away red. “I’m bleeding.” He said stupidly.

“Arthur, open the fucking door!” Cayden screamed, and the sound was so loud, so horrible, that Arthur winced.

Arthur tried to think of what to do. Seth was slowly but surely getting to his feet; he looked disoriented and hurt, and he kept one hand pressed to the small of his back. A thought occurred to Arthur. He turned and pressed his hand against the door.

“Are you listening to me?” he asked. “You want him so much?” he snapped the first dead bolt open, then the second. “You’ve risked everything, you stupid children.” He unlocked the rest of them quickly, leaving only the chain on. After a hesitation, he opened the door. “Is he that important to you?” he snarled at his sons.

They peered up at him through the crack in the door, their faces blood streaked, their eyes nothing but pupil. One of them licked his swollen, bloody lips and slipped his fingers through the door. The other was staring past Arthur. “If we behave…” he whispered, his eyes glued to Seth as he stumbled to his feet. “If we promise to be nice, will you give him to us?” Fingers clung to Arthur’s pant leg, pulling, stroking. “Daddy, we’ll be good. Let us have him.” The both moaned simultaneously, long, soft sounds, and Arthur shuddered.

Arthur looked over his shoulder at Seth. “You wanted to see them, didn’t you?” he asked, and shut the door so he could slide the chain free. “Here they are.” He yanked the door open all the way as Seth turned towards it.

The twins swarmed out, half crawling, both of them giggling. Their nails scrabbled across the tiles, and their hair fell in dirty loops and spikes around their bloody, pale faces. Seth’s eyes widened, and he took one unsteady step backwards. He stared, gaping, at them; his face showed almost no recognition, only fear and disbelief. One of the twins, Arthur thought it was Cayden, reached out and swiped his nails along his brother’s back, bringing blood. The wounded one made a barking, moaning sound, and they both stopped near Arthur’s feet, crouched and panting.

“I warned you.” Arthur told Seth sadly. “I told you to stay away.”

“What-“ Seth shook his head. “What the hell have you done to them?” he whispered.

The twins cackled, and Arthur managed a smile. “I’ve protected them.” He said. “I’ve cared for them. Loved them.” He gestured. “Look at them, Seth. Get a good look. They’re monsters. Can you say you’d feel the same about them this way?”

Cayden looked up at his father, his eyes huge and sweet. “Daddy?” he asked, and Arthur looked down. “Can we have him?”

Arthur turned his attention back to Seth. “You wanted them, Seth. I warned you, but you wouldn’t listen to me. And now they want you. They’ll hurt you. Like this, they can’t not. They’ll probably kill you.”

Seth turned on his heel. He got four steps before one of the twins collided with him. The weight and force took them both to ground, and Seth felt his chin cnnect with the tiles so hard he bit his tongue. His mouth filled with blood. The twin grabbed his shoulders and rolled him over, straddling his hips. Seth reached out to push him away, and the other twin was there. His grabbed Seth’s wrists and pulled them above his head. They were both grinning, their teeth bloody.

Seth bucked, trying to get the twin off of him, and the one holding his wrists leaned down and ran his wet, bloody tongue along the side of Seth’s face. Seth made a disgusted groaning sound and tried to pull away.

Arthur stepped forward. “Not yet.” He said, and the twins looked up at him. He crouched down beside Seth. “Do you understand now, child?” he asked.

Seth glared at him. “What are they?” he snapped. “What the fuck is this?”

Arthur reached out and stroked the side of Casey’s face with his fingers. Casey smiled and licked his father’s finger tips. “They’re my children.” Arthur said softly. “They’re my pride and joy, my curse, my whole life. They’re evil, Seth. Something inside of them…” he sighed. “It’s just the way things are. They way we live. I feed them. Mostly from work.” He grinned down at the struggling, terrified boy under the twins. “But now there’s you.”

Seth went nuts. The twins had a hard time keeping him down, but they did it. Seth began to scream. Arthur slapped him, and the sound cut off immediately. “Don’t do that.” He said.

Seth looked up at him, swallowing a mouthful of his own blood. “I don’t understand.” He said. “Why? All of this, them, what the fuck is it?”

Arthur stood up. “The Grays have always been this way. Something in our blood. It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “Although the twins… perhaps there’s only so much insanity, and having it split up between the two makes them control it a little better.” He sighed. “You’re going to die, Seth. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

The twin straddling Seth’s hips looked sharply up at his father. “We don’t want to kill him, Daddy.” He said, and Arthur snapped his attention to his son. “We want to play with him. Keep him forever.”

“No.” Arthur said immediately. “Play with him if you must, but he cannot live. You know that.”

The twin holding his wrists rested his cheek against Seth’s. “But we want him. He’s perfect.” He glared at his father. “Don’t be mean. Let us keep him.”

“I said no.” Arthur snapped. “Take him downstairs. Keep him there. If he’s not dead by sunrise, I’m killing him myself.”

The twins exchanged looks, but neither of them said a word. They simply dragged Seth towards the cellar door. He starting screaming again, and Arthur kicked him in the chest so hard he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

When his legs dropped and he felt the stairs against his thighs, Seth closed his eyes and tried to stay quiet. He didn’t want to go down there, didn’t want these bloody, murderous things wearing the twins’ faces to… well, he didn’t know what they were going to do to him, but he knew it was going to end up with him a corpse, and maybe a meal. The surrealism of the whole thing was overwhelming, and for a moment he’d almost convinced himself that it was a bad dream.

Then the twin still holding his wrists pressed his hot, wet mouth against Seth’s ear and whispered. “You should’ve listened to Arthur. You should’ve stayed away.” He laughed, and licked Seth’s throat. “We’re going to have fun with you. Daddy never gives us live things. They make too much nosie.”

Seth felt the twin at his feet pull him by the ankles, and when he slid down, his head hit the top stair so hard he blacked out.
------------------------------------------------------

A/N. So. I haven't exactly explained what the twins are, what they do. I'll get to that a little more in the next chapter. This one was more to get Arthur's craziness out in the open, and to get Seth where I need him to be. A little violent, but the next chapter's going to be worse. I've written about half of it. It's pretty gross, so fair warning.

You know, I read alot of people who say that the violent parts, the pain, is hard to write. I find that easier to write than the love parts... maybe I'm just a sociopath. =)

Anyway, all will be explained very shortly.