fixed! oh god! stupid weird coding thind o.o Anyway! this is my go at writing horror and twistedness that isn't cute! enjoy!

Drip…. Drip….Drip…

the sound echoed through the silence of the room. it was the first thing Matthew was aware of, the constant sound… steady and rhythmic. it was almost soothing.

drip… drip… drip…

his eyes were open, but it felt like they were closed, unable and unwilling to focus on anything, all he could see was a white blue. he hadn't come out of it yet. large violet orbs empty and lifeless, staring at nothing. mouth a slack line of apathy. his arms hung loosely at his side, he stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just listening to the dripping.

when he came out of it, it happened all at once. just like it always did. his eyes cleared and he stumbled, a clatter echoing in his head, as he dropped whatever was in his hand, he wasn't sure yet. his now free hands went to his head and he squeezed his eyes shut while he tried to get his bearings.

when he opened his eyes he froze again. but this time he was fully awake. blood… there was blood everywhere… he looked down, his clothing was soaked... his hands coated and now his hair would be... like he always did the blonde let a name squeak out shakily "A-alfie?"

the door opened a second later and his brother burst in, moving straight to him with sole purpose and wrapping protective arms around his shoulders, pulling him close "it's okay bro… It's over okay? come on, don't look, lets just go-"

but Matthew pulled away. his eyes had flashed down to what he dropped… a knife. before Alfred could stop him he whipped around. behind him were two mangled corpses… what was left of faces were twisted in horror. Matthew bent at the middle, his breakfast coming up through his mouth. It didn't matter how many times he woke up like this… it never ceased to put him in shock.

It was a few hours later before Matthew calmed down and returned to himself completly. whenever he would first 'wake up' he was never fully tuned into reality. to him, it felt like he was seven years old again. standing in father's bedroom listening to the steady 'drip...drip...drip' confused and afraid, then Alfred would come and save him…

yes… this had all started at the tender age of seven. Matthew and his twin brother Alfred moved in with their father after they had been taken out of their mothers care. she had been placed in a mental institution. it was only weeks into living in the house that dear old daddy started showing who he was.

Their father was not a nice man… he was a bad man, a very very bad man. he had thought nothing of it when started to beat both of the boys when he was drunk, or high, or simply angry and bored. it would leave them huddled together in terror every night hoping he would just pass out before he remembered they were there.

a few months after it started, and after a trip to the bar, he had taken a particular interest in Matthew... an interest that had Matthew even more scared of his fathers bedroom then his belt. Alfred took most of the physical abuse from then on… Matthew's purpose was much different.

to be honest, he had blocked most of it out. not wanting to think of the details of what that sick fuck had done. it wasn't hard, his brain liked to blank things out apparently.

when Matthew and Alfred were only seven years old it had happened again, Matthew was dragged off into their father's room for the night. the last thing Matthew could remember before he 'woke up' was screaming in pain and fear and his wide panicked eyes seeing the pocket knife on the bedside table.

he had woken up, drenched in red, standing in a pool of thick sticky blood, his father in front of his feet, sliced to pieces. one particularly large hole through his throat he had thrown the knife and terrified, called for his brother. Alfred, of course, had come running, instantly going to the shaking Mattie.

the boys had called 911, police had come and they had been moved to a different house. no one believed it was sweet little Matthew… no child could cause such a grisly scene, the child was merely a victim. witnessing a brutal murder and blocking it out.

Matthew sat at the table and took the shot if whiskey that was in front of him. he was too young for the shit, but with what his life entailed… he poured another and pounded it back. his hair was still dripping wet from the basement shower. a strong smell of bleach wafted through the area as the bathroom door opened again.

"good work lad" came the voice from behind him and the door re-closed. he grumbled in response. he didn't see anything good about it, except maybe the pay… and the lack of jail time.

Matthew had three more of these episodes before he found his current "father". each incident would happen with someone who had mistreated them. their father, a teacher who tried to touch Alfred, a foster mom who beat Matthew with a bible, an uncle who tried to get them to take pictures with their clothing off… each incident happening a year or two apart. he was seven, nine, ten, and twelve. luckily because he was so young for the first few, the police had come up with the idea that some nut job was following the boys, killing their caretakers.

Alfred had helped that one along, giving a description of a man he saw in around the neighborhood the day before. every time the description was consistent. however one person had caught on. luckily enough, Arthur kirkland wasn't what you would call a clean cop.

He had stepped forward when no more relatives were located and said he would take the boys. he claimed him and his husband Francis had been wanting kids and they both really wanted to help the boys.

in reality… Francis and Arthur wanted help from the boys.

The twosome were vigilantes. they had been contracting out kills, or performing them themselves for ages, but killing even the worst of the earth's scum can weigh on your soul after a while. it can get dangerous when you start to feel bad for what you're doing, or hesitate half way through… Francis had been badly injured by a child rapist a few years before by doing just that, it caused a spinal injury and he was stuck in a wheelchair, this had only fueled Arthur's obsession.

that's where Matthew came in. Arthur had been following the cases for a while, looking over evidence. when he started to suspect, he secretly reran fingerprints. it didn't make sense any other way… why would a seven year old boys fingerprints be all over the murder weapon? why would blood splatter be on his nightgown, while he was left unharmed…

It didn't take long to figure out exactly how it worked after they had the boys. simple as setting up cameras, having a known pedophile start babysitting, while they sat and watched. just as was expected, the second "date night" daddy and papa went on was when the bastard had tried to feel up Alfred. It didn't take long for Matthew to snap, obviously not being the first time. as soon as Alfred saw Matthew come with the knife, he calmly walked out of the room, as if it were nothing.

Matthews handy work was impressive. for a twelve year old… being able to overpower an adult… adrenaline made you do impressive things. he was a perfect killer, no hesitation, no holding back... so sweet you would never expect. the kid stuttered and blushed constantly most the time. soft spoken and polite. He seemed to fade from himself during the attack

the two men had made sure to come back before the police were called. they did clean up, letting Alfred care for his brother like he always did. The boys had tried their story on Francis, but he merely smiled and shook his head sending them to bed while the adults dealt with the mess.

it was the next morning over breakfast that things were explained. how it was going to work was laid out. the boys really had no option but to agree… what, with five murders under their belts… it's not like living there was bad either. outside of the whole, murder machine thing... they were okay people.

four years later here they were. the basement of their white picket fence house. Matthew looked towards the far wall where Arthur was headed. hidden behind an old fridge was a door leading to a sub basement. that's where they had Matthew's special room. it was sound proof, inescapable and completely hooked up to was easy to clean white tile.

it worked like this, Arthur would catch some piece of shit, or like today, multiples, and Matthew would let himself drift away, that darker part of him taking up the knife on the table by the door and getting to work. while he was doing his part, Francis would watch the screens just in case and to see when it was over. Alfred would be stationed on the sub basement stairs outside of the locked door waiting for his walkie talkie to give him the all clear to go in and help Mattie out, and Arthur would be preparing a way to dispose of the body. Matthew didn't ask too many questions about that. he didn't want to know.

the first time they did it, Arthur asked if Matt wanted to watch the tapes… he had said no quite firmly. the kid had no desire to watch what he did to those people. how would he ever be able to sleep if he did? the only thing that kept him from breaking as it is was the knowledge that every one of those sick fucks deserved it.

Matthew threw back another shot and stood. by this point the Alcohol barely affecting him "I'm going to head to school"

"brush your teeth first. do you need a note explaining why you're late?" Arthur asked casually sounding like a dad as he drew on his gloves preparing to clean up Matthew's mess.

"yeah… probably.. I'll ask Papa." Arthur nodded and Matthew walked up the stairs rolling his sore shoulder as he went. tonight he would count the bruises.

Alfred was in the kitchen packing their lunches. he looked up and smiled brightly at Matthew. "hey bro! Almost ready!" he said cheerily.

Matthew gave a sheepish smiled back, his voice soft and quiet once more "thanks Al, you're the best"

"well, what kind of hero would I be if I wasn't there to help out my baby bro?" he laughed.

Matthew rolled his eyes and was about to state they were twins, but he let it slide. with every piece of dark crap in Matthews world… his brother was always the light at the end. always the normal he could fall back into. the only thing that silenced the sound of

drip… drip… drip….