Author's Notes: Here's a story about Teatime when he was a boy, exploring a possible way he could have become what he is. If you enjoy my way of writing, you should probably read my other story Literally (/s/5671851/1/Literally), which takes place sometime after Hogfather where Teatime's all grown up... and dead. Marly might show up somehow--it's still in-progress. Enjoy, and please review!
Disclaimer: Most characters here belong to me (with the exception of "Marly's Brother"), but the location/setting/world belongs to Mr. Pratchett--thanks for writing such wonderful books!
"Evil natures never lack teachers."
—Latin proverb.
Marly had a brother. He was exactly three seconds older than she (presently of eight years), and was her only friend in the world. He was slight, but she was smaller. Her hair was blond, straight and thick, his was the same shade, but terribly curly.
"Cherub!" she'd tease.
"Witch!" he'd counter.
"Bonny Johnny!"
"Mini Marly!"
"I'll get you!" she lunged at him, but he had a grace she lacked, and Marly stumbled forwards as he side stepped and attempted to catch her. She spun to the side. He ran towards her. She turned quickly, then leaped onto his back. He shoved her up against the nearest alley wall, letting her slip down so she was pinned.
"Got you," he whispered quietly in her ear, craning his neck to reach her.
She grinned, leaning forwards and wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling terribly safe.
Technically, they lived in a back room of a bar with their father. In reality, they lived in the streets. They slept in the backroom and they stayed there when their father came (he would go into a rage whenever he couldn't find them there), but their days were spent roaming the alleys, searching for food and fun. They would wrestle, and laugh, and now and then spy on the grouchy wizard who lived next to the Unseen University. It was hard, it was rough, but they were happy.
Years ago, Marly's brother had squished a bug. It had made her cry and sob, and it was then that she realized that she cared for all life very deeply. Her brother didn't quite understand how Marly could love anything besides himself and her (and was more than a little jealous of all life), but he liked to see her smile and after that often searched the alleys for bugs.
"Marly?" he asked, seeing his little sister sitting with her back against an alley wall. She looked up at him and smiled brightly as he sat beside her.
"Hi, Bonny Johnny. You look pretty." He tugged her hair with his left hand playfully. She let out a noise somewhere in between a screech and a giggle. "Don't make me go for your curls, Cherub!"
"I've brought you some ladybugs," he said, opening his right hand to show them crawling over his palm.
"How do you hold them without squishing them?" she asked in awe, placing her hand up to his to let the little insects crawl on her palm. She giggled as they tickled her hand.
"I just do," he said. "I understand my body well."
She nodded, eyes still on the red ladies.
"You do."
Her brother watched intently as Marly watched the tiny insects. The look on her face made him feel very content. She glanced up and smiled at him. "They're so sweet, aren't they?"
He shrugged.
"I prefer dogs."
"That's only because they like you."
"They do, don't they? I wonder why," he said thoughtfully.
"You must smell good to them." He glanced at her in confusion. "Dogs have a good sense of smell. I don't think they'd hang out with someone who didn't smell good to them." She leaned over and sniffed him. "You smell like rain."
"You're very odd, Marly."
"Not as odd as you," she replied, turning back to her bugs.
"Maybe," Marly's brother paused, listening intently. It was quiet, but most definitely there: footsteps. "Someone's coming."
Marly perked her ears without looking up.
"I hear them," she said quietly. "Is it—?"
Her brother nodded darkly.
"Yes, I think so. Shake off the bugs, Marly—they'll only get squished if you keep them around for this."
Marly stood and shook her hand, watching the ladybugs take wing and fly off, an expression of soft wonder on her face. Her brother stood, too, grabbing his sister's wrist and walking off with a quick pace.
"You're moving too fast—"
"Shh," he hissed roughly, pulling her up closer to his side. "Be quiet."
He dragged Marly along the alleys, moving silently and quickly as he hoped to avoid the others. It wasn't long before they came to an overturned cart, blocking the way through the alley.
"Oh no," Marly said quietly.
Her brother turned abruptly, pulling her behind him as the group of large ten to twelve year old boys came around the bend.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" one asked, arms crossed.
Marly's brother grinned at them cheerfully.
"Johnny—" Marly whispered warningly; he tightened his grip on her wrist.
"Wait," he whispered so only she could hear.
"Who are you?" another asked, getting closer. He didn't look very nice. The two blond children were silent as the others approached.
"I think my friend asked you a question," one said.
"Who's this?" another asked, glancing at Marly behind her brother's shoulder. "A little girl? She looks frightened."
"Aw, she shouldn't be."
"We just want to play, that's it."
"Are you both mute?"
"It looks like it."
"Well, then, I guess we don't have to worry about you screaming."
One raised a fist, about to hit Marly's brother in the face. He dodged it easily, pulling Marly along with him. Angry, another attempted to strike him. He grabbed Marly's waist and tossed her up onto the cart. She screeched on the way up, but landed graceful and grinning. The other boys stared in shock at his strength, then glanced down at the slight, tiny boy who had sent the girl flying. He grinned devilishly.
"You were saying?" he said, dancing back.
They exchanged a few glances, then came at him. He dodged back, caught one of their arms and twisted. The boy screamed as the bone cracked under the pressure. Marly's brother just smiled as he punched the next person to come at him square in the nose. Blood began to rush out in massive quantities as his nose contorted and squished.
They were in a circle around him, and one blow grazed his cheek, breaking skin with a ring on the attacker's middle finger. Taking this opportunity, Marly's brother kicked the boy in the stomach then hit his face, slipping past him and flipping around the others. In a minute more, all the boys were bleeding and running. He had had much practice at avoiding such dilemmas.
Marly's brother smiled, and glanced up at his sister (still high on the overturned cart) proudly, blood pouring down his cheek.
"Are you alright?" she asked, sliding down beside him.
"Yes, I'm fine," he said dismissively, "But what'd you think, Marly? How'd I do?"
"You were amazing, Show Off. But really, I could have helped—and did you have to break that kid's nose?"
He shrugged.
"He would have broken yours. And no, Marly, not only would you get in the way and be useless, but you would have gotten hurt. I don't like it when you're hurt."
"You don't mind when anyone else is hurt. Why am I different?"
He looked at her as if she were insane.
"Marly, you are part of me. You are my light, my soul, the joy in my day and the peace in my night. You are half of me, and without you I am nothing. How could I care about anyone else when none are near a quarter as perfect as you are? How could I not care about you when you make me whole?" he said seriously.
Marly looked up at her brother softly, shaking her head.
"I understand you, Bonny Johnny. I'm afraid to say throughout your life, no one else will. I love you—and you are my completion as well. I can't imagine living without you." She slid her hand into his and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's getting dark. We should get home before he does."
Her brother nodded.
"We'd best hurry, then."
Together as the sun lowered over the horizon, brother and sister made their way through the crowded streets. It was cold, and, even if they dreaded reaching home slightly they looked forwards to the warmth.
After a short while they reached the inn, and circled the building until they reached the back door. Marly's brother opened it without the slightest creak in near half a second and walked lightly on the squeaky wooden floor until he came to their small room.
"Come on, Marly," he called, not bothering to turn back. He knew she was there.
Their room was small, with nothing but a bed, a neat pile of straw (the pile of straw only being neat because of Marly's brother, who was a bit of a perfectionist) with a thick blanket over it, and a few broken beer bottles. There was also the stash of alcohol under the single bed, but they weren't supposed to know about that. How their father could possibly think that they wouldn't find out, neither of them knew, but neither wanted to mention it either.
"Maybe we should hide it?" Marly suggested. "Maybe if he wasn't drunk—"
"He's wasted when he comes home anyway, Marly," her brother said. "He'd only be infuriated."
Marly was convinced that their father wasn't all bad. She loved him, even though she was afraid of him, and in her heart of hearts hoped that one day all their conflicts could be resolved. Her brother, on the other hand, couldn't get passed the fact that he hurt Marly. He hurt both of them actually, often even. Marly's brother hated him.
"Let's run away, you and I," he'd asked her once. "We know how to live on the streets, how to make our way in the world. We wouldn't have to—"
"Losing our mother put Father in shambles, Johnny," she'd said. "How can you say to let him lose us?"
"He doesn't act like he wants us."
"He has a funny way of showing it. But he's our father, Cherub. We have to stick with him—just as I'd stick with you no matter what."
"But I'm your brother—your twin brother. That's different. Besides, all I've ever done is protect you. Is it fair, to either of us, to let him abuse us?"
"Life isn't fair. Family trumps all, Bonny Johnny."
Marly's brother sighed softly as he remembered the conversation.
"You're probably right, Johnny," his sister said as she slid down the wall onto their straw pallet. Her brother sat beside her, and she took this moment to examine his cheek.
"Am I hurting you?" she asked, cleaning off some of the blood with her sleeve.
"I don't mind."
"It's already starting to scab. You should be fine. Does it hurt?"
He shrugged.
"Yes, it does."
She shook her head.
"You take pain so lightly, Johnny, yet you're so protective of me."
"You don't take pain light, Marly. You feel for us both—in many, many ways."
"I guess so."
A crashing came from the hall outside, stumbling and heavy, staggering steps.
"Oh no," they said in unison, and pretended immediately to be asleep.
Their father entered the room, saw them 'asleep', threw up out the single window above his bed and proceeded to drink half his stash of alcohol.
Marly's brother pulled his sister closer to him protectively.
"Flowers," he whispered.
"What?" she mouthed.
"I smell like rain, you smell like flowers."
"Oh."
And then they tried to sleep, but the noise kept them awake long into the night.
*
At the crack of dawn Marly's brother left his sister and father asleep in their little room. He went out the window, carefully avoiding his father's biol, and after about ten minutes of walking made it to the rolling hills outside the City of Proud Ankh and Pestilent Morpork.
He crawled through the dew-soaked grass like a snake, searching between the individual green blades for an insect of any type. It didn't take him very long to find a preying mantis, snatching up and eating other bugs. He stared at it in awe, realizing that even the tiniest, littlest things lived off cruelty. Perhaps insects weren't so different from humans—or humans so different from insects.
But Marly was different. If a cruel thought had ever gone through her head, he'd eat that preying mantis then and there.
Poor preying mantis, he thought idly, you don't have my Marly. Soon you will, but then you'll never see her again. Sad, isn't it? Or can you feel sad? Do you even think as complexly as I can? Can anything think as abstractly, feel as deeply as my sister and I? It seems so impossible.
Carefully, he grabbed one of the preying mantis's long legs and stood from the grass. He held the tiny creature in his right hand gently, not even bothering to try not to squish it. He had done this so many times it was second nature.
On his way back he saw the boy whose nose he had broken yesterday. Marly's brother grinned at him cheerfully and felt a slight surge of pleasure as he ran away calling for help.
Try to hurt Marly again, won't you? he thought.
Marly's brother started to climb through the window, but was surprised to see his sister all alone, sitting in the center of the room with her head in her hands. She was crying.
I have to get to her, was the only thing that went through his mind as he slid through the opening, then in one step crossed the room. He hadn't even thought; he just did it. He lifted her chin and saw both tears and blood mingled on her face. Her lower lip was broken, and a red gash going down the left side of her forehead ended with a huge bruise surrounding that eye.
His father's knife. The hilt had hit her eye... the blade had cut her head... he had been so drunk last night...
"Did he do this?" Marly's brother asked dangerously.
"No," Marly said through sobs, shaking her head as she recognized the fire in his eyes.
"I'll kill him," he said angrily, standing to his feet. "I'll kill him!"
Marly stood, grabbing her brother's arm, fear showing on her face.
"No, no, it's wasn't him!"
He swerved on her.
"Don't lie to me, Marly!" he growled. "You know I know when you lie!"
"Don't hurt him, Johnny, please," she begged, clutching his sleeve with all her strength. "Please don't hurt him."
"Marly, I don't mind pain. But I never really feel it on my own. When you hurt... when you hurt I feel pain, Marly, I feel it. I feel like I'm being ripped in two, and I can't take it. I won't take it. Please, Marly... let's run away, you and I."
She shook her head.
"No, no, I can reach him. I know I can."
He sighed.
"That's what you always say." The preying mantis squirmed in his hand. "Oh, I brought you a bug," he added, opening his hand to her.
Marly brightened, and she took it in awe.
"It's so amazing, isn't it? Look at its legs, and its head... it's designed so perfectly to survive."
Her brother stared at her face, legs up against himself. He smiled. She looked so... fascinated.
"You're so perfect," he said.
"No," Marly said, looking up at him. "No, I'm not perfect alone. I'm broken without you," she met his smile with her own, then stood. Marly's brother stood in less than half a second. "Let's put the preying mantis back. He should go home."
"He doesn't have one. He's free," her brother said, staring at the insect, a little jealous.
"No, Cherub," she sighed. "No, I won't leave. And you won't—not without me."
"I know."
He took her hand and helped her out the window. Together they left for the edge of the city, but as they made their way they heard music. Marly's brother brightened. He was practically glowing.
"Marly-Marly-Marly!" he said, almost bouncing. "Music! A dance! Just put the bug down—let's go! Let's go!"
She shook her head.
"You look so silly, Bonny Johnny."
"Don't make me tackle you, Marly! Put the bug down!"
She sighed, setting the praying mantis on the ground delicately. She took her brother's hand and together they skipped towards the music.
Near the center of Ankh-Morpork a huge bank was throwing a ball in its front room. The two siblings peered through a window, watching the colorful costumes swirl and twirl. Some were clumsy, some actually very good, but the music flowed and poured, soared and thumped, swayed and danced on its own. They could feel it pounding in their bones and soul.
Marly's brother grabbed his sister's waist and pulled her away from the window, taking her hand in his.
"May I?" he asked as he started.
"Your a little late with the 'asking', Bonny Johnny," she laughed, stepping into the music. "You're good."
"How many times have we done this?" he asked thoughtfully as he spun her up and off the floor. "I love this!"
"You should be a dancer, Bonny Johnny."
He spun her until she was dizzy, then through her up into the air.
"Mercy!" she giggled and shrieked.
He twirled her out, pulled her in and whispered in her ear,
"Never."
And again with the music, in, out, step, spin, throw, jump, twirl... one, two, three, one-two, one, two, three, one-two...
Breathing became harder and harder, but stopping was even more so. The world became a spinning blur and there was nothing but one another. Step, throw, jump, twirl... one, two, three, one-two... Harder, faster, spin!
Something hit Marly's ankle. They slowed, and noticed a crowd had gathered around them. Her brother grinned, stepping it up a notch. Coins fell around them like rain, and soon the low and middle-class crowds clapped along with the melody. It wasn't so long before a few other pairs joined them in the dance, until a whole ball of its own started in the huge street before the bank.
No one there wore big, beautiful gowns, and as the rain started to pour down on them they all grew wet, but the prim, proper ball going on in the bank could not match the glee and joy that took place outside. Noses from the rich inside the balls pressed against the glass, watching the dancers outside.
Finally, when they could barely take in breath, brother and sister kneeled to the ground and picked up the coins that had been thrown at them.
"We could do this," her brother suggested. "We could dance, and people could pay us, and we could get our own room."
"No, Johnny—"
"Hear me out, at least, Marly," he said as he started counting the coins and doing the math. It didn't take long. "This is enough for a week's rent and food."
"A week's!?"
"Well, not the best rent and food... the worst, in fact, but still enough. It'd just be you and I, and we could play in the fields and dance in the streets. Why not?"
"But... we'd have to save up first, wouldn't we? Like.... like a month's worth. If we had enough money to survive a month I think we could do that. It could work..."
"So you will?!"
"I don't know. Let me think about it, Johnny... let me think..."
And that's how it started. Every ball after they would meet and dance before it, growing more and more skilled. With some of their money they earned ,Marly's brother bought her a small harp. She absolutely loved it and played it every day, and with much practice, learned to play and dance at the same time. Her brother thought it was amazing, and swelled with pride whenever she did so.
One day, after such a dance, the two twins were spying on the old wizard next to the Unseen University. Marly liked to watch him work his magic. Her brother liked to play with his dog, Org, tethered outside in the front. Org was soft, and liked to lick him.
"Look at what he'd doing now!" Marly said, nose pressed to the window pain. Her brother showed up next to her immediately, and she almost jumped. He was doing that more and more often, and it kept surprising her.
"He's looking through some glasses," he observed.
"But they're black. Why black?"
"Now he's fighting with the air. Why is he fighting with the air?" he wondered.
"I don't understand it... He's been working on those glasses for so long. What do they do?"
The wizard turned to look at the window. Marly's brother pulled her down in half a second, and if it had been just him the wizard never would have seen anything. But Marly wasn't as quick as him, even if he was pulling her. The wizard opened the door and stepped outside, crossing his arms.
"What are you two doing?" he asked.
"Nothing," they said in unison.
The wizard squinted.
"You're those dancing tykes, aren't you?"
"Yes," Marly said quietly.
"Come, you both. I need you."
"What for?" her brother asked.
"Come in, if you want to find out."
Well, if it had been you or I we would have politely declined. Then again, these two didn't have a mother to say 'don't talk to strangers', so they followed him inside, hand in hand.
The room was all warm colors, dark wood, and red. There were lamps, notes, desks, books stacked haphazardly and big armchairs everywhere. It was a small room, all things considered, but it gave the feeling of being filled with more things than a warehouse. The wizard gestured to red couch lined with yellow embroidery.
"Sit." The two twins exchanged a quick glance, than sat down in front of the glass coffee table. "What do you see on the table?" he asked.
"Nothing," Marly answered.
"Good. You're at that age when things start to fade..." he shook his head thoughtfully. "Put these on, girl," he said, handing her the black glasses.
Marly lifted them to her eyes, peering through them curiously. Strangely enough, she could see clearly through it, even if the world had more of shadowy, dark air to it. But on the coffee table she saw something that made her jump. A tiny little man, probably five inches high, with a brown vest over a green shirt. She jumped back and screamed, and her brother rounded the wizard.
"What did you do to her!?"
The wizard laughed, which truly peeved Marly's brother.
"Don't worry. You're alright, girl, aren't you?"
"I see... I see..."
"Her name is Marly. People's names are very important," he said, taking the glasses from Marly's eyes and trying them himself. He saw the little man and kneeled before him.
"Me oh my," he said softly, cocking his head in fascination. "These are spectacular."
"What are they exactly?" Marly asked curiously.
"Glasses to show things that are really there. I've been perfecting the design for a long, long time. These could make me rich."
"Why did you need us?" asked Marly's brother, who was currently having an unannounced staring contest with the little man.
"I can see such things already. I had to make sure that they actually worked."
"I see." The little man blinked, then stomped his foot in agitation. Marly's brother grinned. "Can I have these?" he asked, looking up to the wizard.
"I think not!" he huffed. "These are my first prototypes! But... maybe I'll make some others for you both later..." he paused thoughtfully, "I suppose you both will demand some tea about now. I've got some boiling, as a matter of fact, and I think I might have some cookies... just wait, I'll go get some."
The two twins exchanged a surprised glance as the wizard left, and true to his word he came back with some crumpets, tea, and sugar. They ate over the coffee table, and, with a quick thank you, the two siblings left hand in hand.
"He was nice," Marly mentioned. "Maybe we should visit him again."
"If you like," her brother answered idly.
And they did—many times. Marly's brother found him terribly interesting, and eventually the wizard made a pare of glasses for them to share. When her brother mentioned he wasn't quite sure why he kept having them over, Marly had suggested that the wizard was lonely, since he had never married and didn't have a sister of his own. Her brother had mentioned he was glad he would have her when he was old and lonely, and she had only laughed in reply.
So, through dancing, wizard visits, bug catching and gang avoiding they passed their days together. Marly would sometimes play the harp and sing to her brother, and he simply loved it when she did. But Marly's brother never left her alone anymore—not since the day he'd found her all alone and crying in the place that was technically (and only technically) their home.
"Do you think he was drinking today?"
"I'm sure he has been," her brother responded.
"If we're going to run away..." she said, "I just want to try something first. We can leave the day after we know it doesn't work—we've got a pretty sum tucked away. But... but let's just try hiding his drinks, alright? Let's just see what he's like when he's sober."
"Marly, he's either being visited by the oh-god-of-hangovers," (she giggled), "be there such a thing, or the-god-of-wine. He's never sober."
"But if we hide his alcohol, maybe there will be enough time for him to sober up and he'll realize that he's hurting us and stop."
Marly's brother almost keeled over with laughter.
"I'm serious, Jonathon!" she said, her voice slightly hurt.
"I'm-I'm sorry..." he gasped, sitting up, staring at her glaring face as the laughter died down and turned to sadness as that look of anger bore into and ripped him up inside. "Marly, Marly... please don't look at me like that. It hurts."
"Don't laugh at me!"
"I'm not, Marly... please stop it, your my sister. I love you."
"You have funny way of showing it!"
"Not as funny as our so-called father who you love so much you let him hurt you and me! How can you be so selfish, Marly? Your beautiful and kind and loving, but you have to draw the line somewhere, my sister. SOMEWHERE. How can you forgive him?"
"He's my father!"
"And I'm your brother!"
She fell to her knees sobbing, her hands covering her face. Her brother immediately regretted his words—how could he make her cry? His dear, sweet, Marly, his other half and completion... how could he hurt her? He was no better than his father. None.
He sat beside her and set his arm around her shoulder, pulling her crying face into his chest.
"Shh..." he hushed comfortingly.
"I'm so sorry... I'm sorry..."
"Shh... I don't want you to cry."
"That... makes... two of us," she said between sobs.
He smiled, slowly rocking back and forth on the floor.
"I'll hide his drink in an alley somewhere, okay? We'll leave it there and wait for him here."
"Should we hide?"
"We'll have to come back sometimes," her brother said logically, "We might as well stay. Don't worry; I'll take care of you, Marly. You're mine."
"Yes," she agreed softly, "I'm yours. But you're mine, too."
"Mmhmm."
She sobbed for another few minutes before smiling and standing. Together, they pulled out their father's replenished stash and took it out the window and down a few alleys. They made several trips before under the bed was completely empty, so when they came back home Marly was a little out of breath. They climbed into the straw and closed their eyes into darkness, waiting for their father to come home.
Sounds of crashing, staggering, stepping, stumbling.
He was here, alright.
The door opened, and their father shuffled in. He was mumbling something incomprehensible, as he bent down under his bed. Marly's brother was on the outside as usual, facing outwards with his eyes opened to tiny slits as he watched his father. He could hear his sister breathing clearly, feel her heart beating on his back. She was afraid, he could tell. He hated it when she was afraid.
Their father searched under the mattress, groping in the darkness for one of the many bottles that he had left there with one hand and holding the small knife he used to open them in the other. But he came out with nothing. Confused, he reached under again, searching blindly for a cool container. He grew frustrated, tossed up the bed and yelled, pulling it up and over.
"Byers!" he shouted angrily, seeing nothing underneath. "Byers! Oh, I'll kill him! I will! He hid my drink, the scoundrel!" he started to head towards the door. Marly clutched her brother's arm.
"Oh no... oh, Johnny, you were right! I'm so stupid... we can't let him hurt him, though... Johnny, we've got to do something!" she whispered in a panic. He nodded, kissed her forehead and started to slide off the straw. "What are you doing?" Marly hissed in surprise and fear.
"Stay," he whispered, and stood. "No, father," he said.
His father rounded on him, the moonlight seeping through the window and hitting his eyes. They looked like they were glowing. He looked so tall and terrifying, but Marly's brother wasn't afraid.
"What are you saying, boy!?" he yelled angrily.
The boy flinched at the loudness, but held his ground.
"I hid it."
"I did..." Marly whispered, little tears pricking her eyes. "It's all my fault..."
"You WHAT?" he roared like a lion.
"I hid it," Marly's brother lifted his chin.
"You insolent little brat!" he roared again, raising his fist and to strike him. The curly haired boy waited for his fist to fall—yes, he could dodge his father's blow, but that would only anger him, and he wanted to get this over with. He'd forgotten the drunken man was still holding the knife he used to open beer bottles.
So as Marly's father's hand came crashing down, the blade sank deep into her brother's eye. He let out a scream, for the first time in his life, of true pain and agony. No, he didn't mind pain—but this... this sickened him, going down to his stomach and making him feel like throwing up. Blood rushed out of it, and he felt weak. He tried to blink, but the knife wouldn't let him close his lid. Marly screamed as well, pure shock, anger and fear plain and evident in her call.
Her brother was so preoccupied by the blade sticking out of his eye that he didn't even think to dodge the blow coming at him, and the next one, and the next one. He sank to the ground, tears and blood falling from his eyes.
"STOP IT!" Marly screamed, standing to her feet and running at her father, beating him with her tiny fists. "Leave him alone!" she shrieked. "It's my fault! Leave him alone!"
"You little witch!" the drunken man roared, rounding on her as he lifted her from the ground and threw her against the wall. Her head hit one of the broken bottled on the floor and split open, blood flowing out like the mouth of a river. Her father came at her, fist coming down and down again like a terrible rain.
Marly's brother heard the thump, and though he could barely see through the blur he knew this room by heart. And he could hear his sister's screams. He heard each fall of his father's fist—the man he hated. But what could he do? He was crumpled, useless...
But it didn't matter. He had to do something, whatever it may be. So Marly's brother grabbed the hilt sticking out of his eye and pulled out the blade, ignoring the pain that searched through him. He could barely see in the moonlight and blur, but he saw never the less the red blood pouring from his sister's head and soaking her pale blond hair. It look odd, the dark red against the yellow.
And he was hurting her. How dare he—how dare he?!
Marly's brother ran at his father, leaped on his back and brought the knife down, ignoring the cry of pain and agony that ripped from the man's mouth. His eyes hurt, his bruises hurt, but nothing hurt like the sound of Marly screaming.
He's like the preying mantis, he thought, he lives off the cruelty of others. Everyone is like this. And he's hurting Marly.
The knife came down again, and he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of pleasure as his father's blood pooled—yes, he had hurt Marly, but now he hurt. Now he bled.
"Bleed further!" he screamed, down and down again—once for every strike, every blow, every harsh word. Once for every time he had hurt him, his sister, the world.
He was dead already, but his son kept going. Only when his sister moaned did he drop the knife with a quick thought:
This blade took my eye, and then helped me to defeat my father. It betrayed him, and may betray me. Objects are like people; fun, treacherous, fickle, useful—I must keep them in my grasp, or they will turn against me... but I must set them down now and then, I suppose, to pick up other things. Then I will destroy what I am done with, so it won't destroy me.
The thought was long gone by the time he sat by his sister. He could barely see her, could barely keep conscious, but he had to. For her.
"Bonny Johnny?" she asked, her eyes searching the room blindly, hands flailing above her bloody head, "I can't see you. I can't see anything."
He grabbed her right hand and placed it on his cheek.
"I'm here, Marly," he managed.
"I'm sorry... so sorry... I didn't mean—"
"Shh... don't be. Please."
"I'm going to die, Cherub. I know it. I'm going to die."
"No, you won't. I won't let you go. Not you, Mini Marly. No."
"Johnny, I am!" she sobbed. "I'm going to die and I'm going to lose you. I don't want to die..."
"Stop it, Marly. Don't say that."
"It's true! I love you so much..."
"Marly, Marly, Marly..."
"Hold me... please... just hold me..."
He laid beside her and pulled her close, blood still gushing from whatever was left of his eye and mingling with what poured from her head.
"I should get help," he whispered, his blond hair growing dark with blood.
"No—it won't do any good. I want to be with you. Don't leave me."
"Marly..."
"Please..."
"I love you. I can't lose you. Don't leave me, please, Marly. I'm sorry... I've failed you..."
"No—never. Just hold me."
She hummed slightly, arms wrapped tight around him, and he held her back, squeezing with all that remained of his strength.
How long he laid there, he didn't know. But some time after, a black clad figure appeared. He had a black beard, and was carrying a staff. Marly's brother picked up the glasses for reasons he wasn't sure of, but wasn't surprised to see a skeleton when he put them to his eyes... or rather, eye.
"You're here to take Marly from me, aren't you?" he said.
I'M AFRAID THAT SHE IS ALREADY LOST. I AM ONLY HERE TO SET HER FREE FROM HER BODY.
"No—save her. I know you can. You're Death. I need her. Don't let her go."
THAT WOULD BREAK THE RULES.
"What rules?"
NO, SMALL MORTAL. THE RULES.
"Who cares for the rules?! I can break the laws of physics, you can break those ones for a girl who never hurt anything in her life. You can't let her die."
I'M AFRAID THAT THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO. I AM SORRY.
"No, no, no! You can! You must! Please, please... don't take her away from me," he sobbed. Trying to hold back the tears had been growing harder and harder. "She's mine. She's me. She's my Marly... please..."
SLEEP, SMALL MORTAL. SHE WILL BE WELL CARED FOR.
"No! No! I can't—"
Marly's brother had lost far too much blood. He lost consciousness then and there.
They were found like that the next day, in a puddle of blood. Two blond children, no older than eight, hair and clothes stained, near the body of an older man. The man was dead, the boy only had one eye, and the girl... the girl breathed no more.
"Marly!" he screamed, sitting up in a white room on a white bed, a white-clad nurse beside him.
"Shh, little boy," she said.
"Where's Marly? Where is my sister?!"
"Your sister...? A blond girl, about your age?"
"She was my twin."
"I'm so sorry, little boy. She's dead."
"You're lying," he whispered darkly, glaring at her with his only eye.
"I'm so sorry."
"You're lying!"
"It's alright, your safe—"
"You tell me I'm safe!? I'm incomplete! I'm broken!" he thought a few seconds. "The knife? Where's the knife?"
"We put it with the other things we found in the room... what happened there, little boy? Tell me. Were you all attacked? Some monster stabbed that man—was he your father?—over ten times! What kind of sick soul does that?"
He slid off the bed.
"I need to go."
"Where?"
"I..." he paused, "I have an uncle," he lied. "Where did you say my things were?"
"They're just under your bed, but—"
There was a window, he noted. In exactly a half a second, he grabbed the wooden box under the bed and slid out said window to move on his way to the wizard. He was a wizard, after all. He should know a way to bring back Marly.
*
"What do you mean you can't!?" he yelled.
"Calm down, boy!"
"No! My sister—I need my sister! Bring her back!"
"Boy, there is a line we cross when we die—a line we cannot walk again. There is nothing I can do."
"There-there must be!I will make it so!"
"And how do you intend to do that?"
"I..." he said quietly, sitting on the red couch and burying his face in his hands. "I'm so lost."
"What happened to your eye, boy?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes it does. It could get infected, and I can't even imagine how hard it will be for you to move or see with only one eye... Wait here."
The wizard left the living room, and Marly's brother sat there in silence until the wizard returned, a black orb in his hand.
"If you want, boy, you can have this. It will let you see things that are really there."
"Thank you," he said dismally.
"I warn you, it is strong magic. I can't say whether or not it would be dangerous—"
"I don't care."
The black eye was in his socket more quickly then one could observe. Later, he would realize that it didn't do quite as well as he would have liked—though he could see things, since he could only see them in one eye his brain had a nasty habit of filtering them out. But with practice, he was able to see both images simultaneously. That actually became useful later on, in that he could know what other people didn't see, as well as see it himself. But he hadn't realized that yet, and, for the moment, was only glad that he could see properly again. Having only one eye had really been giving him a headache.
"Please, sir, I need you to bring her back. You have to find a way to help me."
"Boy, there is nothing I can do. How many times must I tell you this?"
The knife. It was in the box.
No it wasn't. It was in his hand, at the wizard's side.
"Bring my sister back!"
"Put that thing down, child," the wizard said patronizingly. "I've been kind enough to you. I'm sorry for your loss, and I cared for that girl too, but—"
"Don't you say you cared for her," he said quietly. "You didn't watch her bleed, see her head break apart. You didn't hear her moan or scream, you didn't hold her or battle with Death while she died. You don't know her favorite song on the harp, her favorite beat to dance to, the way she sings, or the look on her face when she sees bugs."
"She was terrified?"
"She loved them!"
"I've told you before, boy, I can do nothing."
"Help me," he said levelly, "help me or I will kill you."
"Killing is harder than you would think, child."
"I've done it before!"
"Have you, now? Who?"
"That doesn't matter! Please, just help me."
"Boy, I can't—"
How could he? How could he know how gentle, witty, fun, sweet, caring Marly was, how could he know her and not fight for her? How could he be so... empty?
And it was then that he realized that he was empty, like the preying mantis. Without Marly, the whole world was empty. A gaping, dark, emptiness that fed off itself. It was so ugly.
"Fine," he said matter-of-factly.
Oh, the wizard had been wrong. It was so easy to slide the blade into his side, so easy to take his life. A look of pure shock crossed his face before he fell over and died.
Well, Marly's brother thought, I'm done with him. He gave me his use—it was time to set him down. I just don't have anything to pick up yet.
He stared at the knife he'd used to kill him, the knife that had robbed him of his eye and saved him from his father. He wasn't done with this small, useful knife. It would be a memento, something to remind him how dark and empty the world was.
He left then, leaving the wizard's body untouched.
Marly had had a brother.
Jonathon Teatime had had a sister... but no longer.
And so a monster was created.