Generation loss au continued

Chapter 17

(Ranboo PoV)

I was in my cabin alone. No one sat down here. I felt shivers go down my spine. Where is everyone, I heard a scream. Someone had screamed a blood currying scream. But where were they, why did they scream. Should I be running? No no no everything's fine, everything is completely and utterly fine.

Everything was deathly quiet

In a moment of instinct I hid. I don't know why I did but I ran and hid under a table. If this was a game of hide n seek I'd definitely lose. Good thing I'm not playing hide n seek then right?

A few long and painful minutes past and silence wandered the cabin. Thickening the air making my throat tighten. No one was here. I was truly alone.

"Oooh Oreo boyyyy, come out come out where ever you are. I wanna play a game. What about family. I could be the older brother and you could be the helpless child. Just like how it used to be.

I got a new keychain for my bag. You always loved my collectors bag. A keychain, a badge, a ribbon, something from all your friends gifted so kindly in their passing.

I covered my mouth as he walked past. I could see his trophy bag. All the lives he took. Displayed proudly.

A pair of glasses, round and white rimmed hanging off a strap.

A tattered white bandana with a flame knotted around a handle.

A little embroidered muffin patched sewn on a pocket.

A duck pin on the side with part of a beanie sewn beside it.

A purple spiral earring hanging off a zipper with kandi bracelets.

A bee pin and a toxic waste patch. Tiny specks off blood prominent against the yellow.

"First I killed your brother, then I kill you, then I kill all your little friends."

My brother clay, he was so sweet. Mother left us at a young age and father was strict, he was never good enough for him. He was just fathers punching bag for when he had a bad day. I was the favourite.

Then the police found him with his head smashed in and body burnt. They couldn't identify him he was so mangled.

Father didn't take his anger on me though after that. Instead he was supportive and even payed for all my collage and university. Helping me find a job and letting me live with him till I was ready to move out. He really cared.

He didn't even shed a tear at clays funeral. He didn't want to go. I was only ten when he died, he was 15. Dad had to come with me so I could lay flowers on his coffin. The funeral was cheap. No flowers, no after gathering. Just one wooden coffin with a dead mangled body inside, to charred and tortured to ever be recognised as a beloved brother.

I saved all my pityful allowance and used the rest of clays to buy flowers and a packet of gummy worms. Me and clay would always share a pack of gummy worms when I was sad.

Turns out he had been secretly working a job to earn money to leave.. he even had papers that said if dad signed them he could move out underaged. He was going to leave me.

I wept for hours after that day. I kept some of his clothes and a few photos but the rest was donated.

He had just been walking that day. The police suspected that the building he died was on fire, him rushing in to save people but his head being crushed by a falling beam. I always knew it was more than that. That someone did this on purpose. That there was more to the story. And there was.

The killers words echoed inside my head.

"I killed your brother"