November 4th

Chapter fifteen bodies in Jerusalem

Taurus had always been too smart for his own good. In School the teachers had wondered if he was autistic because of his off the scale iq, and awkward social behaviour, soon enough they realised Taurus Drake was very particular. He was particular about everything, and it became trying. As a junior i remember Mum had to cut his Sandwiches in a particular way, make sure his library of thrillers were lined up on a particular shelf. In school the other kids had sensed he was so smart it was sinister, he rarely attended after school clubs and when he did, piano class where a kid tried to bully him for carrying a copy of Schindlers list. I remember what happened to that kid after Taurus glossed him over,every time he saw Taurus he stammered maniacally. A boy who talked like a parrot was suddenly living his youth on tiptoe. " What did you say to Michael Windmore," id asked in confusion one day as we saw him round the corner quickly and sprint for the park. " I asked him why he felt so lucky all the time."

"What?" Id asked in confusion yet upon years reflecting now, that was another dark statement from Taurus. " Whats luck got to do with it?" I quizzed," did you talk to him or pound his face in?"

" I just played a game of probability with him thats all. What is the likelihood of him coming out of here with his kneecaps still working,"

"So you did pound him." I urged.

" In a manner," he shrugged" i guess." Now those whispers of time echoe deep into bone. Did we have a chance, did Taurus ever have a chance. Dad was gone, he took his favourite belt and his 'favourite book' with him. The power of persuasion. It had been Dads bible for everything, yet he didnt persuade. He was a vicious bully, and id always put my brothers distant and at times questionable behaviour down to trauma. How do you inject real emotion back into a soul thats lifeless? Maybe i should have paid more attention, to the signs. The shows that he watched , the books he read, and the man he was becoming. "Dead things," he'd said ones "are Mannequins"

"Dont you ever wonder about the soul and the great watcher in the sky."

"No," he spoke easily, " Their now dead things, when youre gone your gone." Was i a dead thing now? Would i become a Mannequin? One thing was certain, the police hadnt shown up yet, and Drake was a puppet master. It was me, or it was him. I've never believed in saving someone from themselves, look what happened to mum and dad relationship. She was present but absent. No i had to get away, far far away somewhere where Taurus Drake didnt think he was god.