Smiles That Hide Screams

(Warning: Disturbing themes of implied abuse. The introduction of Dark Matt and Fem Am - the tragic past lives of Alfred and Matthew)

(The stakes begin to appear)

"All things truly wicked start from innocence"

- Ernest Hemmingway

When Matt had tied off the large, purple satin bow behind her back, he began smoothing the creases out of her white frock. Amelia never moved, flinched, nor reacted to the soft tugs of her twin brother's slender fingers. With arms out, she remained a statue, staring at her own dark blue eyes in the tall, oval-shaped mirror. Amelia watched without seeing herself or her twin brother.

Matt circled her, his movements hindered by their cramped quarters, and straightened her long tresses that flowed down her back and over her shoulders like a golden shower. Multi-colored ribbons were woven throughout her hair and a crown of cloth sunflowers was affixed to her head. Not real ones. It was too deep in winter for real flowers.

Once satisfied with his handiwork, Matt straightened and stood in front of her. He studied her and said, "That should do. That demon bastard won't be able to resist you."

"Thank you, Matt," Amelia said.

"And you're sure he loves sunflowers?"

"Yes, Matt."

Suddenly, he grabbed her chin and jerked her face towards his. Heart thumping with fear, Amelia could not directly meet his gaze, so instead stared at his nose. In the candlelight his eyes looked more black than their normal amethyst hue. The shadows turned the faint snarl on his worm-like lips into a sneer. He leaned close enough for her to smell the maple syrup that always hung heavy around him. Her brother ate it on everything, often making her enjoy it too. In a voice seething with menace, he said, "I warned you not to do that."

"Sorry, Matt," she said, forcing the corners of her mouth to lift and the muscles to crinkle around her round eyes. Faking a smile took effort.

"With teeth." His thumb and fingers bit painfully into the sides of her mouth. When Amelia had plastered on a grin that he was satisfied with, he released his grip. "Better."

"M-Matt," she said, voice shaking. It terrified her to speak out at all, but she wasn't sure she could go through with this. "M-Maybe we shouldn't. Ivan is a demon lord. What if we're caught?"

Matt smirked and looked at her in bemusement. "Oh, Lia." He only called her that when he was pleased with her. "You're worried I'll forget about you." When he placed his hands on her shoulders, Amelia wanted to scream. Instead she widened her grin. "Never fear. I'll never let go of my beautiful sister, the only one who understands me. I wish I could lock you in a cage and keep you all to myself."

Amelia's skin crawled at the thought. Her cheeks hurt from the effort of maintaining her happy mask. She couldn't decide who was more terrifying: Ivan or her brother.

He cupped her chin and said, "It disgusts me to let him have you. You know that, right?"

"Yes, Matt."

His eyes narrowed, brow furrowing. Her desperation rose as his expression soured. What had she done wrong?

"Stop doing that."

"I'm sorry, Matt," Amelia said, confused.

Suddenly, he let go her chin and, with the same hand, backhanded her across the face. The blow almost sent her to the floor. Stars danced in her vision. "Stop sounding so fucking sad! You know I hate seeing you unhappy!"

She blinked back tears, worried they'd make her eyes puffy and red. Matt wouldn't like that. Although her cheek throbbed, she resisted touching it. Through a throat constricted by her urge to cry, she managed to speak cheerfully and said, "I'm sorry, Matt."

"Sorry! You're always sorry." He threw up his hands in frustration. "If this bruises... why'd you hurt yourself? Now I'll have to fetch ice for it!"

"I'm sorry, Matt," she piped. Muscles hurting from her grin.

Don't cry, ran on repeat in her head.

"I suppose you can't help it." His tone softened and he cupped her injured cheek. She tried not to wince from the pressure or show her revulsion at the contact. "You're nothing but a pretty face after all. It's not fair. I'm the clever one. The learned one, but I might as well be invisible. All anyone notices is you. An empty-headed idiot. I see the men look at you." His voice darkened; his eyes took on mad light. "I want to kill them for that. No one should covet what belongs to another."

"No, they shouldn't," Amelia agreed sweetly. In her head she fantasized of stabbing Matt to death. Of watching those eyes turn lifeless. Would she be free of him then? It was something Amelia could never do. Matt would figure it out and then... Amelia would be very sorry. He had told her many times the terrible things he'd do to her if she ever betrayed him.

A soft smile ghosted his lips, one that resembled the face of the kind brother she once knew. It vanished a moment later, replaced by his cruel smirk. He glanced toward the half-open window. Far off music from the festival was drifting in, almost cut-off by the wintry winds. "I wish the Moon Pole Dance wasn't nearly here. That that demon bastar wasn't coming for you. How will I live knowing he has my dear sister?"

Her fingers dug painfully into her thighs as her grip tightened on the sides of her dress.

"I'll miss you." The lie rolled easily off her tongue. She told it for years.

He cups her cheeks and said, "Remember. Keep your eye on our prize. When we have the Braginski Treasure, then I'll become the Ruler of Winter Rock. With the power of a god, I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

Except you, she thought, alarmed it would show in her features.

"I'm trusting you," he said. "Don't fail me."

"I won't," she said. Her legs wobbled, strength giving out. What would Ivan do to her? Would she be safe with a demon?

"You're doing it again," he said, but this time he didn't look annoyed. "Don't be nervous. No matter what happens I will always find you in this life or the next. Death won't keep you from me."

Her grin almost faltered. Amelia glanced at the mirror as her brother began to lead her out. Her own empty and hollow gaze stared back at her.

And Amelia made a wish.

In the next life, let me be born a man.

Alfred woke, thrashing so hard he tumbled out of bed and banged his head on the carpet. For a moment he lay there breathing heavily, taking in his room, grey with early morning light.

A wave of bile rose in this throat and he bolted to the bed pan on a table near the dresser and retched last night's meal into it. After several minutes of dry heaving, he slid to the floor. He reminded himself that he was Alfred, not Amelia.

Who the heck was Amelia?

Why was Mattie in my dream?

No, not Mattie, he told himself. Someone who looked exactly like his brother, but without glasses or kindness. Just the thought of "Matt" brought Alfred back to dry heaving into the bed pan. Never in his life had Alfred had such a vivid dream.

That other Matthew had been horrid. Nothing like his sweet and shy brother.

Matthew once fell on a frog and cried, not because of the frog guts smearing his clothes, but because he killed it on accident. Alfred's brother, who never left Alfred kill insects or rodents in their home, would never slap a person, let along a woman like that.

"Just a bad dream," Alfred told himself before heaving into the bed pan again.

When he finally felt better, he lay restlessly in bed until Toris came to rouse him.

Over and over Matt's words haunted him.

Death won't keep you from me.

(A bad dream or much more? Is Matthew in danger? Stay tuned...)