Tell Me Lies

The Two Brothers

The Two Brothers:

T.W: mentions of abuse.

Pacing.

That was all he could hear from his brother's room; it wasn't an uncommon sound in recent days. He closed his eyes and prayed that his brother did not disturb their mother with his constant movement. Her emotional equilibrium was ... unstable most days, with her jumping into the deep end of fury quite easily; unleashing the mean, vicious streak she had. Her cane became her favourite form of beating as she aged, and unlike his brother, he had learned that being meek and keeping your mouth shut was key to not being walloped on the side of the face with the grotesque golden serpent that sat on the top of the cane.

Pacing.

He cast his eyes to the single wall the separated his room and that of his brother's. His side covered with memorabilia that his mother had hung up; his Slytherin house crest, a photo of him and the House Quidditch team. Mementos that should bring him happiness, but only brought him a sense of dread.

On the other side of that wall though, hung the Gryffindor house crest, pictures of scantily clad muggle women, and motorbikes. His brother's room, much like its occupant, was an entire 'fuck you' to their parents, specifically their mother.

Pacing.

He sighed heavily, lying back on his bed; it was only a matter of time before their mother stormed up the stairs in a blinding rage to punish his brother for making noise. Sixteen years he had been in this house, yet he never learned that being sent to their rooms straight after supper meant that staying quiet was important. There were ... visitors downstairs that had to be entertained, and mother and father could not give off the impression that they had unruly children.

He shuddered in his bed, before deciding that he should try to convince his brother to at least stop the constant pacing.

Quietly swinging his legs off his bed, he placed his feet on the hard wooden floor. He stepped carefully and cautiously, after all these years he had memorised with floorboards creaked when he stepped on them so he could avoid them, but the house was old, and often times the floorboards began to creak from overuse.

He made his way slowly towards the heavy wooden door, his eyes trained down on the floor.

'Creek'

He winced, and did not dare move from his spot, listening to make sure he had not disturbed either of his parents. When he thought the coast was clear, he started to move again, allowing himself to release the breath he did not even know he was holding.

He gently grabbed a hold of the silver doorhandle, turning it slowly, trying to minimise the noise. His brother's pacing had, so far, gone unnoticed, so he was trying to minimise the amount of noise he was making.

He gently pushed the door open, praying that it would not creak open as it normally did. This time luck was on his side, and he silently slipped out of his room into the landing. It was dimly lit, save for the light from downstairs illuminating the outlines of the hall.

Not that he needed the light to know where he was going; the house was always dark, in more than one sense of the word. He knew how to get around this house with his eyes closed, he knew where to hide when he needed to.

He pressed his ear to his brother's door, still pacing.

Glancing towards the stairs, he heard a door open below him, which let the low murmurings of voices float up the stairs into the darkness. He froze, terrified that his mother may be coming up to quieten his brother, and he did not want to get caught; but moving now would only alert her that he was outside of his room, which would result in a punishment. His heart was racing, beating loudly in his chest, he was surprised the noise of it did not alert anyone to where he was.