Madness of Two- MorMor + Severich

oh darling, I know what you're going through

I've always felt like I have to protect Richard, my little brother of all of 17 minutes. He's just so quiet, never being able to stick up for himself. He used to try to fight back, to beg for the beatings to stop, but he soon learnt that that only made everything worse, thus he receded, shutting up and letting whatever has to happen to him happen, like it's an inevitability. I know what that's done to him; he feels useless now, like he's only a pawn in everyone else's life, like his existence doesn't make a difference and he has no power over anything, not even his own body. It's heartbreaking. I always stepped in and defended him from our father ('father' is such a ridiculous term for 'asshole sperm donor')- I'd shout and scream and protest, kicking and scratching and throwing useless punches until I was knocked out. Then Richard would get his turn anyway.

Asshole sperm donor was in the midst of a criminal circle, involved in all sorts of dodgy shit, things he dragged us into too. Who makes better drug smugglers than teenage boys, right? He'd let his friends have a go at us too, stress relievers in more than one way if you know what I mean. They'd hit us, sexually assault us. I survived by zoning out, dissociating until it didn't feel real, and I could forget about it. So I told myself, anyway. Richard could never zone out. He'd cry the whole time, sobbing for hours, scratching at his skin until it bled to make it stop. As the years progressed, he upgraded from his nails to blades, anything to distract from the rampage in his head. I've begged him to stop a million times. The only thing harder than watching other people hurt your baby brother is watching your baby brother hurt himself. Sometimes, I manage to convince him, and he stops for a little while, but he always goes back to it. He doesn't have to say anything, I can read it all in his body language. He gets even more twitchy, rubbing his arms when he gets anxious.

He acted like that on a visit once, a couple of months after the night Seb and I kissed for the first time. He talked to Richard for a few minutes but didn't stick around, going to his room to read. When he left, I got tense straight away, and needed to break something immediately before I shot someone.

"Sebastian!" I yell out, tapping my foot impatiently as I wait for him to get there.

"What's up, Jim?"

I hold my hand out to him. "Gun."

He frowns at me. "What?"

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'd like your gun. I know you've got one on you. I'd go get my own but it's in my room so just go ahead and give me your bloody gun."

"Right, sure," he agrees uncertainly, handing me over his gun.

"Thank you. Now, was that so hard?" I mutter, flicking the safety off. I aim it at the mug all the way across the room and pull the trigger, blowing it to pieces with a deafening bang.

"Jim! What the fuck?!" Sebastian shouts at me.

I ignore him, aiming at various spots around the room and hitting every mark without flinching.

Sebastian puts his hands over his ears to block out the noise, yelling at me to stop. When the bullets run out and all the gun does is click, I throw it across the room in frustration, denting the wall where it collides.

There's a silence between us louder than the gun shots.

"You... can aim a lot better than I expected..." Seb admits quietly. "But was it really necessary for you to destroy the entire living room?"

"Shut up. Just stop talking," I order him, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him in for a rough kiss. He's more than happy to oblige, kissing me back immediately and pulling me closer by my waist. It's nice for a few seconds, but I soon realise that it's not enough to keep me thinking about Richard, Richard who I can't protect from himself. "Nope, not gonna work," I mutter after I'd pushed him away.