Note:I am not religious but I'm not trying to bash on any religion. I'm kind of taking stuff I've heard and seen and just using it, nothing here is personal and I apologize if you are offended.
It was always dark here, there was no up or down, left or right. The first few days I wondered if my hands were still there, did I still have eyes, ears, a mouth and a nose. The only reminder that there was any more than the nothingness that surrounded me was the vague memory of someone closing the door. The heavy chains weighing down both my wrists and ankles prevented me from even reaching out to freedom…I could live without freedom though. If it meant, for even ten seconds, that I could just get a glimpse of him, hear his cheery voice say it's okay, I could stay in the darkness for the next hundred years. I wish I could see my little brother, the only soul who could suffer alone and shine brighter than the sun.
But he's up there.
And I'm down here.
.
.
.
I could never be more grateful.
During the day the birds sing pretty songs by the window, the leaves rustling gently in the warm evening breeze. I imagine it being warm, warm enough to just want to lie on the grass, close my eyes and fall asleep. On days like these the cool shackles embracing both my wrists and ankles offered mild relief. Although, despite all that I have to be grateful for…more than anything I'd like to see my big brother. I wonder if he got any taller like I did. I wonder if one day we could both lie side by side on the ground again, whispering of everything and nothing at all. I wish I could see him one more time, the only soul who would stand up and fight against the world if he had to.
But he's down there.
And I'm up here.
.
.
.
I wonder if God has ever hated anyone as much as he's hated me. I know it began to fester the day I turned my own back on him. I was very young, but I knew I couldn't give my heart and soul to him, he wasn't worth the grief. Although, that way of thinking got me into this, I don't feel guilty for abandoning God, the root of most hate in the world. I remember the many times I had attended church, they thought I wouldn't really understand, that I would just stay a cute little altar boy along with my brother. They didn't expect me to tear off my robes and denounce their religion. The only thing I would ever thank him for would be for bringing me into the world with my little brother, a person more forgiving and loving than the very God he looked up to.
I wish I could see his smile again.
He would tell me to smile right along with him.
.
.
.
I wish they would give me a canvas to paint on, but I guess they know what I would paint. A never ending sky, and the greenest grass you'd ever see…and in the center of it all it would be big brother and I, holding hands like we used to. I feel myself frown, and I look around the empty room, as I've done every day that I've been here. I thought God could be a little more forgiving than this, but I can't entirely blame him, he's a busy person who has more to worry about than two wayward souls. Curling into myself my hands go to my face, fingers pinching my cheeks. Frowning won't do me any good.
I hope he's not too upset, I promised I wouldn't ever leave him.
How could I let him go so easily?
.
.
.
The day was just as warm as the day before and every day before that, in these summer days we never saw a cloud in the sky. Our family was gathered in the backyard smiling, laughing, and loving. We were eight years old. And despite the scowl on my face not even I could deny my happiness. Another year gone by. We were born on this day together, one after the other. We weren't born in this world to be alone. That's what I thought about each and every year. Of course I'd never said it aloud…I didn't need to.
"Lovino, let's go outside, we can play soccer, with our new ball?"
I didn't say anything I just took his hand and walked to the backyard a smiling Feliciano in tow.
We played for a good hour before going to rest beside the sole oak tree in our yard. Laying on our backs, pinkies cradled together, eyes turned to the skies; I knew there was no better time to ask.
"Feli?"
"Yeah?"
"You won't ever leave me…would you?"
"Roma, I would never leave you…you're my big brother."
I turned on my side and he did the same.
"Promise."
"Promise!"
.
.
.
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR GOD! ACCORDING TO HIM I AM A LIVING AND BREATHING SIN! ACCORDING TO HIM WE ARE TO ONLY LOVE WHAT FITS WITHIN THE SPECTRUM! I…I could never love a God- love a God that forsake our grandpa. Never could I love a God that allows his followers to preach nothing but hate and allow them to be all high and mighty as if spreading his word made them his angels. I love YOU Feli…but not him…" I was sobbing into his chest, his lithe arms wrapped gently around my head.
Maybe I shouldn't have thrown my robes to the ground and shouted at the preacher for condemning people who have sex before marriage, but to me that was like saying I shouldn't have been born, that Feli shouldn't have born.
"Roma...it's okay, no one can force you to believe in him." That can't be true, not after the hours I spent in the back of the chapel with the Priest, his cold eyes staring into mine as he lectured me about the importance of God and all that he has done.
"Don't worry Roma, I'll be here for you...it's okay." What a coward I was, how weak was I to come crying to my younger brother of all people about my issues, my problems. I was supposed to be stronger than this.
.
.
.
"You need to talk to your brother! He has been deceived by the devil and has forsaken the church. Feliciano it is your duty as his brother to bring him back."
"I can talk to him, but if he doesn't want to come back then there is nothing I can do."
"...Feliciano...you don't want to go to hell do you?"
"Eh?"
"Feliciano if you can't even save your brother from the path of evil, then there's no way that God will accept you into his Kingdom."
"B-but...God wouldn't do that..."
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!"
I squealed at his sudden extremity, and almost scream as his large hands wrap around my wrists.
His breathing is heavy for unknown reason, his body looming over my own, and he whispers to me, "I'll show you what God does to evil boys."
Romano help me.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" The preacher is sent flying as the fourteen year old boy headbutts him in the stomach and kicks him in the head.
The preacher, who is crumpled on the floor, starts muttering to himself, I only manage to understand bits and pieces of it.
"...can't...hide...condemn...God...judgment..." I shiver but tug on my brothers sleeve before he could start a round of beating.
"Let's just go..."
Romano calms down, but doesn't leave before spitting on the priest's face.
"Hypocrite."
I turn around to reprimand him, but instead my eyes widen in fear and I gasp as the priest slams both fists on to my brother's head.
He's still muttering to himself, eyes crazed, but when his eyes land on me the soften.
"Feliciano...don't fear my child, you're about to go to heaven's gate, and be accepted into his Kingdom. You're brother on the other hand...I'll take care of him. I'll purify him so that he can be with you." He smiles gently at me, his hands reaching for my throat, his foot crushing my brother to the floor.
My legs are soon drenched in my own fluids, and despite this, despite the overwhelming fear, those large hands only millimeters away from my skin, I find an ounce of will and strength left in me.
"ROMANO!"
I charge into the priests stomach, forcing him back on to the floor, and I go to my brother, hands cupping his face and scream for him to wake up. I scream for someone to save us, because I'm not strong enough to lift my brother off the floor and flee to safety. I'm not strong enough to fight this man.
GOD. PLEASE. SAVE. US.
My vision flashes and an immense mount of pain bursts through my momentary confusion on the back of my skull.
"That should keep them quiet for now..."
I can't move, I can hardly breathe.
"Feli...!" Romano is awake crying out my name and stretching his hand out to me as the priests drags us both by our ankles to an unknown destination.
My face burns on the silken rug, but I ignore it and stretch out my own, our fingers meet briefly before we are thrown to opposite ends of the wall, sending new bouts of pain throughout my body.
"R-Romano?!" I cry out into the darkness, and I can hear him, feel him, his very aura seething with rage and a more than a little fear.
And then he screams.
He screams for those filthy hands to get off of him.
He's screaming at God for letting this happen.
He screams again, and the room echoes with the sounds of skin slapping together, and his screams don't stop.
He screams for our grandpa to save him.
For me to save him.
But my body can't move anymore.
I pray to God, I pray that he shows mercy upon Romano, and upon himself, and gives them a happy ending.
I pray to God that it doesn't end like this.
It all hurts so much, that I feel as though I'll die if I even open my eyes.
"D-don't...you...dare...hurt-"
He's having trouble breathing to?
After a few moments of choking and huffing, there is only silence.
I hear the priest walk towards me, his footsteps heavy, and my body begins to feel lighter.
Ah.
So it does end like this.
I was really hoping to grow up, and go to school with all my friends.
Maybe I could have a wife as beautiful as my mother, and as kind as grandpa.
More grandchildren than I can even count!
...with Romano, I was really hoping I could have all these things.
I'm sorry, God...
"Feliciano...it's time."
...that was really selfish of me wasn't it?
I can't remember or maybe I was too numb to feel it, but I think the priest did to me what he did to Romano.
And then his hands were on my throat...
.
.
.
My name is Romano Vargas.
I was age fourteen when I died.
I liked to play soccer and eat tomatoes.
And...
FUCK
I can't remember anything else.
"Big brother!"
I jump and curse myself as I add my little brother to the list of things I don't want to forget.
Alright, let's start over.
My name is Romano Vargas.
I was age fourteen when I died.
I like to eat tomatoes.
My...brother is...what was his name?!
I scream in anguish.
I don't want to forget!
Please don't...
But it doesn't change.
It's still pitch black, and I can't tell up from down or left from right.
My name is Romano Vargas.
I was age fourteen when I died.
I like...
My brother...
I sob and scream, and pull at my hair, punch my legs, and try to force myself to remember.
My name is Lovino Vargas.
I was age fourteen when I died.
My brother...
My brother...
.
.
.
"I hope I get to see Romano again..."
THE END
