Duke peeked at Taris, looking at him with the corner of his eye as the boy threw the corpse over his shoulder with a blank face. The last thing he wanted to do was pick up the removed leg from the ground. It was still there on the cemetery soil, the proof that Gavriel's parachute pants failed to keep it from falling. Big, white with a black boot covering the foot, it could have been easily mistaken for a mannequin part if it was turned with the exposed red side towards the ground.
It was a funny thought, but if the entities chose to kill Taris, who was wearing tighter leather pants at the moment, this whole dismembered body thing wouldn't have happened. The boy's stomach twisted: he could see the end of the femur peeking through the pink, blood-stained flesh. The mere thought that followed upsetened him by its lack of sympathy. "It looks like a pig's leg. It's gross." Was ringing in his head. No "poor Gavriel." Just "sickening."
Duke decided to take it. Taris was already getting pretty far. But when his hands touched the hot skin of the limb, a shiver of disgust went down his spine. When he raised it a little, it bended under the weight of the thigh. Soon, hot liquid started dripping down his hand. And that was when he turned around and puked. After that, he had no memories until the rays of the morning sun.
His mother came back at about 7 am. From what he had found out from her, who had visited his step-dad before coming home, a policeman came in the interrogation hall and said that the case had been suspended because of the lack of evidence at the crime scene. She did admit it was weird. They hadn't even finished asking every person.
Taris had buried Gavriel in the middle of the forest. He insisted that Duke had actually helped him too, even though the boy didn't recall that. The fatigue had probably gotten in his brain. And there was another thing: he didn’t remember arriving home at all. He was just in his bed, dangling his foot over the edge of the frame when he regained consciousness. He hadn't even taken his boots off, and, from the door to the second floor there was a trail of mud.
For Taris, things were different. He had been vivid the whole time. He hadn't called his parents at the point where our story got. They were just too busy, and, anyway, they wouldn't be surprised if Gavriel ran away from home one day. Maybe Taris should have actually ran away. He was the worse child, after all, and he had to find a lie to justify his absence now. Maybe it would be enjoyable to try and make up an excuse. The boy was very good with those.
As he laid down on the brown couch of his living room, both hands crossed on his chest, his clothes dirty from his socks to his gloves, a story began to take shape in his head. It was painful to even think about it: his twin below the ground, him above. They had been together from the start of their lives, but now he had to live alone.
Both Gavriel and Taris had worn the name of Lilither with pride ever since it had been gifted to them on the hospital bracelets. It was the name of a successful line of models. Gavriel had gone to a lot of runaways until then, and his twin did, too. Only that his twin was there only to support him, not to participate. Even though they were identical, Taris could never have the charm. He walked weird, had a bad posture, couldn't keep his face straight and couldn't mentain a balanced diet even if his life depended on it. Now, the golden child was gone, but he knew he'd still always be compared to the shadow of someone who ceased to exist.
"Hello, mum." Taris tried not to cry as he put his phone next to his ear. "Gavriel wants to know if he can go skiing with some friends. His phone ran out of battery, and he asked me to call you."
As expected, the answer was, "Of course, why not? But tell him to get back in time until the 29th of July and not to eat fried food and candy. He has to take his skincare with him, makeup, be careful with the paparazzi..."
That's when he hung up. He giggled. Poor Gavriel. Maybe he's much better now, after all. That guy only ate salads and went out with his face covered in foundation and sunscreen while his endless list of skin serums and creams could be recited for one hour continuously. Maybe now, when his pretty face is facing his back, he is finally free because he has never been truly alive for a whole day in his life.
