"Get the hell in here, Richard!" Da roared. Richard flinched at the anger in his voice, the slurred speech, the loudness. Jim was asleep- he had a flu. He was sleeping a lot. "NOW, Richard, before I come get you m'self!"
Richard looked at Jim, who slept curled in a ball, shivering despite the many blankets layered upon him, and walked from the room, looking up at Da with wide eyes.
"Yes, Da?" He asked softly, letting his gaze drift down to rest upon the empty beer bottles on the couch. When Da drank them, he got angry. Richard didn't like it when Da was angry- he yelled too much, and he hit him.
"Why the hell are my-" Da swayed slightly, blinking, grabbing Richard's shoulders to steady himself. Richard's knees nearly buckled under the pressure, but he managed to stay standing. "-my pills gone?" he hiccupped.
Richard had taken the pills for Jim. He had hoped Da wouldn't notice- but Jim had had an awful headache, and so Richard had taken the pain relief pills and given them to Jim. "I- I gave them to Jim." Richard whispered. "He had a headache." Richard flinched as his father's meaty hand swung at him, backhanding him strongly. Richard fell to the ground, clutching at his face and trying not to cry. "I'm sorry, Da!" He said, crawling backwards when his Da grabbed at his shirt, though his Da managed to grab it the second time and hauled him upwards, letting him dangle in front of him.
"Those were MY pills, you little bastard!" Da roared in Richard's face, flinging him onto the sofa and slipping his belt from his trousers. "You're a very bad boy!"
"Da- no- please! I'm sorry!" Richard pleaded, but it was no use. He held his hands in front of his face as his Da swung the belt at him, lashing Richard furiously, not caring which part of him he hit. Richard curled into the fetal position, hands over his face, protecting his head, causing the majority of the strikes to hit his back and legs.
His Da dropped the belt and switched to using his hands, slamming his fist into Richard over and over. Richard sobbed, begging between each new burst of pain, pleading for his Da to stop. Then his Da hit his head, and he sank into welcomed darkness.
For hours- or maybe days? Richard lay on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness, throwing himself sideways to retch over the side of the couch multiple times, then laying back down and sleeping in his own piss and feces.
Richard woke to Jim's hand on his shoulder, and he scrambled up, pressing against the back of the couch, sobbing. "Don't hurt me any more, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" he begged, hands over his eyes, trembling.
"Richie…" Jim said, sitting next to him and drawing his brother into a hug. "I'm sorry, Richie, I'm so sorry." Richard's hands fell from his eyes, and he blinked at Jim before clutching at him, crying, nestling into him.
"Jimmy, he hurt me, he hurt me, don't let him hurt me anymore." Richard pleaded through whispers, drenching Jim's shirt with tears.
"I won't, Richie. I won't ever let him hurt you again." Jim swore, a determined look on his face. "Da will never hurt you again, or I'll kill him."
Slowly, Richard regressed. Over the next several weeks, he began to wet his bed again, and he started sucking his thumb for the first time since he was four. When Da saw, he sneered at how 'Big boys of eight don't suck their thumbs', but he didn't hit Richard. Jim saw to that- whenever Da got angry, Jim hid Richard. Jim made sure he was the only target for their father's anger, he took every beating without a tear- or at least, not a tear where anyone could see him. He waited until Da was done, till later that night, when Richie lay curled up next to him, asleep, and he let out the tears then.
By the time Jim was twelve, he didn't cry even then. Jim extended his promise from not letting Da hurt Richard, to not letting anyone hurt him. Jim protected Richard from the bullies at school, as well.
When the twins were thirteen, a boy named Carl Powers began to bully them. Jim kept Richard away from him, and ignored him. Or, that is, he ignored him until Carl found Richard alone. Jim had not been able to go into school that day- Jim had been especially badly hurt by their Da- but Richard had gone without him.
"Oh look, little Richie is without his brother." Carl sneered, throwing a smirk at his friends.
"Jimmy's sick." Richard said softly, looking up at Carl with innocent eyes, not aware of what Carl had in store for him.
"Oh, Jimmy's sick, is he? Poor Jimmy." Carl mocked. "But he's not here to protect you, is he?"
"Why would he have to protect me?" Richard asked. "Wh-what is there to protect me from?"
"From me, you little faggot." Carl said, nodding at the boy at his side. The boy- or young man, really, he was much too large to be a boy- grabbed Richard by the arms and pulled them behind his back. What was going to happen finally dawned on him, and he struggled to get away. The other boys left, presumably to keep watch and make sure no one came, which left Richard alone with Carl and the young man.
"Please don't hurt me!" Richard said. "I didn't do anything, really, I was a good boy!"
"I was a good boy!" Carl mocked, drawing back his fist.
When Richard finally got home, it was with a black eye and a bloody lip, and Jim was waiting for him.
"What the hell happened, Richie?" Jim exclaimed, hurrying over to Richard and touching his face delicately.
"C-Carl said I wasn't a good boy." Richard said, launching himself at Jim and bursting into tears. "I am a good boy, aren't I, Jimmy?" He looked at his brother with doe eyes, tears streaming down his face. "Aren't I a good boy, Jimmy?"
"Hush, Richie, of course you're a good boy." Jim said, his face reassuring. Behind his eyes, however, wheels were turning. Carl had gone too far.
It hadn't taken long after that for Carl to die- Jim had made sure of it. No one ever suspected Jim, of course, it looked as though it had been an accident. Jim had told no one, save for Richard.
"I promised you, Richie, that I would never let anyone hurt you." Jim murmured into his twin's ear, late the night Carl died. Richard mumbled something sleepily, turning to clutch at Jim's shirt as he fell asleep.
For Richard's fourteenth birthday, Jim got him a present. Richard had become obsessed with rabbits- a wild rabbit having taken up living near their house- and while it was vaguely obnoxious having Richard wearing a pair of bunny ears around the house, ever since he had found them in the street, Jim humoured him.
"Happy birthday, Bunny." Jim whispered to Richard after school, as they sat on Jim's bed doing homework. Richard's bed sat across the room, their backpacks and school stuff strewn across it. Richard's bed had been mostly disused ever since that night when they were eight; Richard felt safer curled in his brother's arms.
"Happy birthday Jimmy!" Richard said, leaning over and hugging his brother. "I made you a present!" Richard chirped, looking at his brother with eager eyes. He hopped off the bed and went to his backpack, taking out a badly wrapped gift. Richard shuffled over to Jim and presented it.
Jim smiled and took the oddly shaped gift and began to unwrap it. Richard knelt by the bed and watched, beaming with anticipation. Inside laid a painting of Jim and Richard- not badly done, rather nice, in fact. In the painting, Richard had bunny ears and he sat on Jim's lap, Jim's arms around him, Jim wearing a wide smile on his face.
"Look, that's you and me! I made it in art class, and the teacher told me it was lovely, Jimmy! Isn't it lovely? I made it for you because I love you and I want you to have something I made." Richard said, eyes still hopeful that Jim would like it.
"It is lovely, Bunny." Jim said, putting his hand on Richard's cheek and rubbing it with his thumb. "I love it." He leaned forward and kissed Richard's nose, then tucked it into his binder. "I'll put it into my locker at school." Jim slid off the bed as well and padded to the closet. "I got you something as well."
"Really, Jimmy?" Richard asked with delight- both at Jim praising his artwork and at the notion of Jim having gotten him something.
"Really." Jim dug through the pile of dirty laundry in their closet and pulled out a tied plastic bag. He pulled the knot apart and took a stuffed rabbit from the inside. "Here." Jim said.
Richard's eyes grew wide and he grabbed the plush rabbit, hugging it tightly.
"Thank you Jimmy!" Richard breathed happily. "I love you!"
Jim pet Richard's hair softly. "Love you too, Bunny." He hugged his brother briefly, then sat back on the bed. "Finish up your homework, and then maybe we can go get some ice cream. Da won't be back for another few hours and I stole some money from his wallet while he was passed out last night."
Richard complied obediently, and they worked quietly side by side.
When they were fifteen, Jim failed to protect Richard from their father for the second and last time.
Jim was out. Richard didn't know where, exactly- he just knew that Jim had gone out. Jim had told Richard to stay in their room, not to come out for any reason. But Richard had had to go pee really badly, and he didn't think Jim would mind him going to use the toilet. Surely there was nothing wrong with it, he didn't want to pee his pants! He wasn't being a bad boy by going to relieve himself, was he?
Richard was on his way back to his bedroom from the toilet when he felt a hand clasp around the back of his neck. He went still with terror, eyes wide with fear.
"Is little Richard out of his bedroom?" Da breathed down Richard's neck, turning Richard around and shoving him against the wall. "Where's Jim, Richard?"
"I d-don't kn-know!" Richard said, stumbling over his words, flinching at the reek of alcohol on his father's breath. Da slammed him back against the wall again.
"Don't lie to me, Richard!" Their Da snarled, clenching his hand slightly around Richard's throat.
"I'm n-not I s-swear, Da!" Richard said, tears welling up in his eyes. "I kn-know not to lie, b-because that would make me b-bad! I'm a g-good boy!"
"You're not a good boy, Richard!" Da pulled Richard away from the wall and pushed him down the hallway, then shoved him onto the couch. "You're a very bad boy!" He withdrew his belt from the loops of his trousers and Richard stared up at him in fear, flashing back to that day seven years ago.
"Please don't, I'm s-sorry!" Richard pleaded, curling up on himself, waiting for the blows to rained down upon his back, and Richard sobbed, calling out for Jim.
"Jim isn't going to save you, Richard." Their Da laughed drunkenly, slamming the belt down again and again.
Richard cried, laying there until the blows finally stopped and their Da left the room, going to collapse on his bed.
Jim got back half an hour later to find Richard weeping on the couch, his back drenched in blood from the dozens upon dozens of blows from the belt, some of which the buckle end had been used on.
Jim dropped to his knees by his brother's side, comforting him best he could. He cleaned Richard up and brought him to bed, then lay awake while his brother slept. He didn't sleep at all that night, instead, he plotted his father's death.
Two weeks later, he killed his father in cold blood and burned their house down.
Jim had made true on his promise that if their father ever hurt Richard again, he would kill him.