He was sweating profusely now. With his wavy curls plastered to his forehead, he diligently set to work. He began to tug the sanguinary vest off of his brother's battered, upper torso. He gently held the tag of the piece of clothing between his index finger and thumb; it was the only part of his sibling's attire that wasn't covered in blood. He glanced up at the sky and smiled grimly. A half moon was out; meaning that there would half the light than there would be on a full moon tonight.
His conscience told him there would be dire consequences for the actions he was taking. The thoughts swam in his head, interrupting his warped train of thought.
He began mumbling to himself. "If you had just listened. I told you to stop, but you continued on, blatantly ignoring my pleas. Noooo…." The man with the mentality of a teenager paused for dramatic affect that affected no one except himself and the motionless body lying on the damp concrete. "You brought this upon yourself. You just didn't listen to me, did you, you disobedient little fucker?" He glanced around the desolate streets, searching for signs of movement, but finding none. He bent down circumspectly as he twirled a lock of his brother's dark brown hair before abruptly pulling it roughly. The dead on the pavement was lifted several inches before it was released to slowly thud against the ground. He chuckled.
"Ah… ah… ah," he said as he wriggled his finger back and forth in front of the corpses face. "No running away, Mr. Rockstar. You put up a struggle, but I was stronger. I've always been the stronger brother out of the three of us. You're just a pathetic weakling which is why you're in this little predicament now." The solid, yet shadowy figure sauntered over to the lamp post and leaned against the steel pole. He quietly laughed maniacally as he gazed down at his murdered brother.
His brother's features were relaxed as a corpse's should be. One could even describe his face as peaceful with the exclusion of the jagged slit along his throat line. His face was pale, a deathly white that was the direct contradiction of being opaque. Now surrounding the area was dried blood that had transitioned into a darker shade, more like an extremely shady burgundy. Like his animate brother, his clothes were a dishevelment. Once again, it was the excessive opposition of his usual, day-to-day external appearance. The boy's hair was unkempt and unruly. Stray strands of curls spontaneously erupted from his head.
"You didn't have a chance," the only living person whispered remorsefully. "I gave you a chance, but you were too ignorant to take it. See, brother, this is why I had to do what I did. You virtually left me no choice. I didn't want to, but it needed to be done. Just like alcoholics need to drink, I needed to do what I had to do. I'm sorry, I really am."
He clasped his hands together, the sound of his palms smacking against one another resonated in the cool, dense air. A smirk played at the corner of his thin, pink lips. His hands were semi clean. The knife had been discarded long before he had begun dragging the body to his intended destination. "God, I need to repent for my sins. I killed my brother in your name. Lord, forgive my brother of his sins. If you put him in hell, make sure he burns forever." His hands unclasped themselves and fell to the side. Shifting his stance, he fell to his knees and bent his wiry frame over the carcass.
"I love you, Nicky. I promised that I'd always protect you. You never protected me. So I got you out of the way. See you in hell, little bro."
