Short Cuts

More messed up than Edward Cullen.

I still remember the day when they broke in. My room couldn’t stand a chance even if it was solid oak wood. They just waltzed on over to my disabled brother and effortlessly hurled him to the other side of the room only to begin thrashing him to death. No matter how hard I howled or fought they wouldn’t stop, and there was no way I could stop them. I pounced for them; I could have taken two maybe three but five. I was out numbered, but still god, I tried. I tried so hard my fists where bloody and swollen with blisters, they eventually got tired of me, like I was some book that you read and you just throw it out when you’re done being entertained. Pined up angst a wall, they beat me and booted me until the tall dark one put his hands around my neck and choked me until I slipped into unconsciousness, all I had as my last visions’ were seeing my brother’s light finally leaving his eyes and both of us being left for dead on the living room floor and that last sentence still rang in my ears.

“We’ll be back for you later.”

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It had been five days since I had kidnapped Chloe, almost a week, and still no ransom. I had sent the threading letter two days ago, you would think by now there would be word gossiping around or the police getting there feelers out, yet still nothing.

“Morning Ed.”

Chloe floated in the room with the Saturday morning paper, she laid it out on the table.

“Quite are we?” she questioned “Don’t speak; it’s more kidnapping style even though you messed that image up royally as soon as you asked would you like your clothes fabric softened.”

You could say a lot had happened between Chloe and I, she was a strong headed girl, which had been no secret since the very first day we met, but in that she had also refused to crumble under such circumstances of “kidnapping”, such as that is what she was in, not so much now.

“So, any news on a ransom or can I leave now?”

Chloe has this thing of using comedy when she’s a asking a genuine question, it’s been a main subject that she’s been focusing on this week; maybe it’s a defence thing.

“Not just yet. It must be in the mail.”

With a sly smirk she slid the tattered dining room chair out to float down onto it. Not a worry was to be found on her face, my eyes wandered around her. Her bright blue crystal eyes had no traces of redness or dark rings around, so no crying or sleepless nights and stress had touched her fair appearance.

  “Ed, Ed!”

 Chloe’s clicking fingers pulled me away back into reality, knowing full well that I had gotten lost in my thoughts, once again.

“God, you have been doing this all week, do I need to get a blow horn or an alarm or something, because I will get one if you keep this up.” She gave off a reassuring beam. Thank god, I was already enough anxious about having a girl living with me, never mind me getting lost in her eternal face, I really need to get it together. I removed myself from the table of confrontation, I already felt more at ease just standing up.

“Do not walk away from me!” Her face sulked like a child being told Christmas was canalled. It’s time for another challenge.

“What if I do?”

She arose from her once warm sit pokerfaced to me right in-between the eyes only inches away and stated, “You’ll regret it.”

Wow, this was a surprising new side, I like it.

“Really? The kidnapped is threading the Kidnapper. Now how does this work again? Oh that’s right, it doesn’t.”

I through in a cheeky smirk, oh I do know how she loves those. As the childish bantering began to hit its height, Chloe froze.  She held her face there, just for a few seconds, but she was there and now no longer looking at my overly smug face, but my confused and now trembling lips. Then, with her two hands cradled around my neck, just for seconds she let her guard down.

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Now, picking up on my life was more than impossible after my brother’s death. I had to notify relatives and friends, that was quite easy, given that after all of my brothers and I’s extracurricular antics, it was more than painless to lose most contact with the outside world.

His funeral was obviously small, just me and the spirit of mum watching over us. I always believed that even though the fact that she drank herself to death wasn’t anything to do with not loving me or my brother anymore or wanting to escape the reality of being a single mother with two young children at her knees all the time, she just didn’t know how to handle herself anymore. I always knew it was a bad addiction, almost a full on habit for her, but I couldn’t change the fact that she was gone. They both were gone now.

As I placed the white carnations on the newly dug grave, I placed one of my trembling hands onto the frozen marble stone. I had heard from an old friend once when mum had died, that you’re supposed to say everything that you wanted to say to the person but never got the chance to say at their grave I guessed to get it all out there it is to be deemed as “healthy”, but I never understood how talking to a piece of marble was going to make out to be “healthy”, but this time I didn’t see the point of trying to even attempt at looking sane anymore.

“You ...” I paused in my eternal silence, biting down on my dry tough as hard as I could to try and not to lose my grip on my overcoming tears.

“You always said you’d look after me...” A sudden wave of emotions hit me. Like an instant tidal wave. “When mum died you said you’d look after me. Now look where we are. You’re six feet under and I’m dressed up and nowhere to go!” Rage started crawling up my mouth and splurging out into the open. “Did you hate me?! Was I that much o-o-of a burden to you?! Did you have to drug yourself to death, Just to get away from me?!” At this point I was yelling and weeping all at once, I didn’t know what to do with myself I began to pace my steps, back and forth over the newly dug grave. In a flash of lighting rage I through an open left hook to the marble grave, only to meet an unbreakable bitter barricade. I fell to my weakened knees cradling my aching hand quietly sobbing to myself. “Why? Why didn’t you just finish me? Why didn’t you just...”

I sat there for what felt like decades, sobbing intently to myself, cradled up into a comforting ball, until I was able to arise back onto my quivering two feet and turn my back eternally, onto his grave.

 I remember exactly what I told myself that day. That I had to man up, and keep on surviving, I had to, and not have anyone get in my way. I was the only one left now I was not going to die without a fight.

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