word count: 35,000+ slow burn.
Seven years ago, Sam pointed to the moon. What followed was France, A Firefighter, London, A Balcony, and a townhouse with peach-coloured walls and an upstairs kitchen.
Lyla didn't expect to ever see "someone" Kiszka a...
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The note I wrote in the journal was gone. My preparation was gone gone gone and all I could do was stand there with my mouth wide open as my brother and my- his- lover smiled at me, trying to welcome me, trying to hide what's just been uncovered.
Jean stayed laying in the bed. Frozen. I was surprised he could even look at me. I was appalled that he could look at me. That- SCOUNDREL.
-What the fuck are you doing here?- Jean asked me. Trying to pass it off as a joke, trying to be casual- as casual as possible. Trying to make me laugh?
-Why the fuck are you in bed with my brother?- I screamed, in English. Retaliation was one of my strong suits when I argue, specifically with Jean. I always know what to say back. Michael as well, seeing as he's my brother, we've had our series of spats. However, this was more than just a spat.
Neither of them said anything. I knew they both understood what I said but they didn't know what to say. Fucking twats.
I watched their faces shift in front of me. Kind faces turned to strangers. Gnashing teeth and bright red eyes. Demon horns slowly pushed through their skulls. Blood dripped down their heads and I imagined them screaming in pain on the floor. Crawling to each other for support. While I stood and watched. My jaw grinding.
My brother decided he would try to flee the scene. But I didn't let him. I slammed the door closed and stood against it. I pressed myself against the cold wood. My crazy eyes pierced into them. Penetrating them.
Michael stood close to me now, still trying to get to the door. I moved closer. He could feel my breath as I said;
-You are not leaving until I have answers.-
-Sit down.- I firmly added. I looked into each eye. Left, right. Left, right.
Michael sat down on the edge of the bed. Jean was still stuck in place. He glanced at Michael and then looked back at me. I directed my eyes to him.
-How long?- I asked, calmly. In a customer service voice. In a sweet, no offense voice.
-A couple of weeks.- My brother said. He stayed fixed on the floor now. He bit his lip, as he does when he lies. I shook my head and that caught Jean's sour attention.
-No, there's no need to lie to her. She knows when you lie. Lyla, it has been going on for 17 months.- Jean added to my Michael's statement. He didn't even seem ashamed. He acted as if he was conversing with a friend, he acted as if I had just met him, and he was simply describing his partner. He literally smiled and nodded at me after the fact.
-seventeen fucking months.- Is all I could say. I repeated it a good 5 times before I got sick of screaming. Whispered it to myself, mumbled it. Mouthed it. After I had finished repeating it, it stuck in my head. Seventeen months. Seventeen months. Seventeen months. Seventeen months. Seventeen months. Seventeen months.
