v. Reese.

It was getting more difficult to push things away, to make the nightmare go away – it was like – it was a torture no one should have to go through, but somehow…
For some reason…
I was there.

And I knew what was going on in the outside world – that scumbag had told me.
They thought Jericho had done it…
They thought he'd thrown me in a gutter somewhere, and no matter how many times he denied anything, people suspected him. I was sure my brother did.

But he loved to throw that fact in my face – that no one would believe him, no matter what he said.
No matter how many times he vehemently said that he loved me and wouldn't do such a thing…
Sometimes…I could hear the fights.

Sleazeball liked that. He liked gagging me so I couldn't make any noise, throwing me somewhere where I wouldn't be seen, and letting me listen to it.

"Fuck off! I wouldn't do something like that – maybe to your daughter, maybe…"
It got ugly then, and I couldn't make sense out of the fight, all the yelling, everything – usually, my mind only caught up to things when he told my precious boy to get out of his office…

My precious boy.

And then he'd…Sleazeball would tell my brother things. Tell him that I was most definitely dead, and he should extract any means of 'justice' necessary…
Even if it meant death…

I wanted to scream then – just to let the rest of the world know that I was here, stuffed away, broken, bleeding, scarred in more ways than I could show…
But I couldn't say anything – the tape he'd slapped over my lips was taut, and my hands had been twined behind my back.

I could only think of when things were better.

-*-

"How can you think that that twanger is better than an acoustic?"
With the tiniest laugh, I rolled my eyes, completely baffled by the concept that the electric guitar was something I'd actually play. Ever.

Of course, he was insisting it was great. Wonderful.
The best damn thing, ever.

"Come on, Reese – it's not like it's possessed or anything, you can actually touch it and not die…" Of course, to the louder, more arrogant, and decidedly blonder Chris in my life, this was amusing. He said I looked like I was some lost flower child, and I really needed to get with the times.

I just usually…laughed.

But he'd been bugging me about this for some time, a few days – since we'd had the whole discussion over what bands were decent, my 'rock ideals'…
We'd actually been pretty inseparable.

And right now, he was trying to con me into trying to play that…electric twanger.

"No…I'm not going to. Not today, anyhow."

"Reese…" Now it was his turn to laugh, and I cherished the sound. It wasn't something that was heard often, really. Not that laugh, full of life, full of a million things that the rest of the world didn't see…
Mainly because of the gigantic faux ego that hid a hundred thousand insecurities.

"What? I just…"
I didn't expect it. I didn't expect him to just lean in like that, having all but forgotten the guitar beside him, his hand brushing my long dark hair over my shoulder…
I didn't expect it to happen, and I didn't expect it to be that…nice.

-*-

I could hear my brother yelling now, yelling about how he was going to kill the bastard at the second he found any trace of blame. Any way to prove that…
He'd done it.

Even if I knew he hadn't…

No one knew him the way I did, though.