I own, as my Latin teacher would say, a goose egg.
So anyway, I thought I would write this story because people have tried to do this, but I don't think any of them have really considered the whole ramifications of it. So this is my take on it.
By the way, I know it's been a while since I wrote anything, but senior year is incredibly busy and I'm trying not to lose my mind. It may be a battle already lost.
By the way, this is my first M-rated story, for no other reason than that I have one of the world's darkest minds. I mean it.
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Arms around her knees. Knees poking her eyes.
Eyes wet with tears.
Tears soaking into her arms as she wiped them away, rocking back and forth in a largely futile attempt to calm herself down. Somehow, the repetitive motion at least helped to absorb the shaking caused by the uncontrollable sobs.
It didn't calm her mind. It seemed a common American mentality, actually, to think that mitigating a symptom solved the underlying problem.
Problem.
Pitiful word, that.
The day had begun well enough. No ongoing cases to rile Gibbs up and remind her of when they had first met.
But, of course, the memories came anyway. They always did.
She wished there had been a case. It would have given her something to do besides sit there and get lost in the labyrinth of her darkest thoughts.
As it was, she had made the fatal mistake of taking a nap.
It had seemed innocuous enough.
She had been back in her apartment when she woke up, disoriented. Despite her confusion, all seemed normal.
Key word: seemed.
Zombie-esque from sleep, she wandered over to the bathroom sink and splashed her face, returning to wakefulness before checking her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She screamed and spun around, drizzling hair flaring out and spraying droplets all over the room.
The boy stood in the doorway, head tilted to one side, half-smile on his lips.
Bullet hole between his eyes.
No. Please no.
Not again.
Her brother held his hands out to her pleadingly. "Hey, little sister."
She tried to back away, but couldn't move, caught in his enthralling gaze. Those dark eyes… Loving, sad, peering into her soul…
Betrayed.
"I love you."
How could three simple words cause so much pain?
"I love you." He was crying. "I love you." So was she.
Blood was pouring down his face, dripping down onto his shirt.
"Why did you kill me?"
His fingers closed around her throat.
They were back on the roof again.
She'd come up there to get away from everything. Her sister's death, the surviving people…
…her own life.
But someone had other ideas.
It wasn't the first time they'd fought. It certainly wasn't the last.
But it was the most desperate.
They were paradoxes, the two of them. Kill one who should live, and the one life you save is the one you really shouldn't have…
And kill the one you love.
She'd fought so hard his restraining hands had dug into her arms until they bled, ruby tears streaming down past her wrists.
She'd always had blood on her hands.
This time, it was different. She fought her way free, and finally cast herself into oblivion.
With a full-body jerk, she'd woken and mercifully fallen off her chair, which gave her time to resume her standard masquerade, rush to the elevator, lock herself in.
Unrolling herself, she pressed her body flat against the floor, slowly calming her breathing. Even so, every time her lungs filled, they shuddered uncontrollably.
Why couldn't you just let me die, brother? Why?
Why did I have to kill you?
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