The way he looks at me makes me sick. It honestly shocks me sometimes that he actually believes there is some sort of love between us. When he gazes at me with those round, trusting eyes and asks me to hold him close, my stomach churns. So pathetic, and weak. Only a boy needs love… and that's all he is, a boy.

Me own fucking twin, and he thinks we could make a go at this bullshite? Somewhere in his fucked up mind he imagines a relationship, white-picket fence an' all? I let him know every chance I can that he is delusional if he honestly believes I could care about him any more than loving me cock in his mouth. Little fucker though still has hope… yeah, hope; that's another ridiculous ideal that only the weak cling to.

Everyone always views Connor as being tough, bein' a 'bad-ass', an' they have it all wrong. I'm the man of the family, that's for fucking sure. Connor cries at night, weeps silently over our late Da, and every time I say in me own head that feelin's are for people like him. Feeling things just gets ye nowhere in life.

Sometimes even referring to Connor as me own twin sickens me stomach. I try to imagine him as some lonely whore I found on the streets to pleasure me at me whim. That's right; lonely whore I can dispose of at any given time. And ye know what? I think I just might.

All Connor ever does it try to get me to admit that I care about him, or anything. 'Murph, love, brother… please, please let me know that ya are still human somewhere in that lifeless body o' yers,' he begs on occasion. When he does that, me blood jus' boils even more with venom and anger. I've gotten to the point o' striking him when I hear those pathetic outbursts… he just takes it like a fucking woman and looks up at me with pain written on his face. Bastard can't even stand up for himself.

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He died a long time ago. Murphy's body may still take the actions of the living, but his soul left years ago. I gave him time after the incident in hopes that he would come around an' be me brother again, but he is gone. Broken.

Murph calls me a pussy, and spits at me feet when I beg him to come back to me.

'Lover, I need you. Why did you have to abandon me?' I cry to him sometimes, but his eyes remain emotionless. No, no I take that back; he feels anger. He seethes with his dismay and spitefulness of the world.

God, I miss Murphy endlessly. I still remember when he was warm and charismatic. We used to dance to music with each other, kissing and laughing softly. Oh, fucking Christ, his lips against mine felt heavenly. Shocked I can still remember it, but it's the one memory I have that keeps me going everyday, putting up with me twins abuse. The closest I have to that old intimacy is the occasional fuck, which just hurts me even more.

He died that day, though, and I don't think he is ever coming back. I had hope for a short while after an unusual late night conversation about ten months ago. Tryin' me best to keep quiet, I was in bed weeping for the loss of me lover, for the pain Murphy must have been going through. I was shocked when I felt a hand touch me hair.

'Connor, why do ye shed so many tears every night? What causes ye so much pain?' His voice was less calloused than normal. I choked back a sob, and desperately grasped his hand.

'Dear brother, I miss ye,' as the words escaped me swollen lips, he tensed and immediately left me side. After that I told him it was Da I wept for.

That one day so long ago killed my only love. When our own Da stood back and watched Murphy being brutally raped, something snapped deep in the core of his being. The fact his Da would sell his body because of our shortage of money was inexcusable, and Murphy had every right to shoot the old man in between th' eyes that night. Me love could barely walk for days after it.

An' yeah, I know how much that hurt Murphy, but I don't think I can stand by him anymore. I tried for too long now. May his soul find peace.

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I came back from the corner store with cigarettes in hand. When I opened the door I didn't notice anything unusual at first. Stripping of me heavy black coat and winter scarf, there was a silence hanging in the air that didn't feel quite right. Something was missing.

And, fuck! Not something missin', but someone. Connor having left the apartment wasn't normal by any means. I pulled a smoke out of the fresh pack and lit it in one swift move, striding towards the kitchen. No sign of me brother anywhere. Instead, there was a single note scrawled in his handwritin' on the table.

Murphy,

If you ever regain any sort of fucking emotion, don't ever forget I tried to help you for so fucking long.

Love you no matter how far apart we are, dear brother,

Connor

I crumpled the note in a tight fist and wildly looked around. He left me, an' for good. I let a tear roll down me cheek an' then furiously wiped it away. Connor was a fucking liar, he never loved me.

He abandoned me just like Da.