A/N here's part three. Sorry I took so long...been working on a few
originals. Now..on with the fic! Review! Like everyone before you!!!
I felt Magenta stir slightly, breaking my thought. I looked over at her. The bitch. A cheap whore, not unlike janet. I ran my eyes over her, almost as if I could kill off part of her just by staring, boring through her soul. I could sense she was starting to wake up. I gently stroked her hair, ran a hand softly down her cheek. She smiled and turned over onto her side. I gave a grin that matched hers, but mine was for a different reason. She wouldn't know. Not till the end. As I stared at her, I couldn't help but remember that first night.
We had just gotten off the street. We were in a halfway house of sorts. We didn't have the money to rent our own apartment. Besides, we were too young to get one. So we found ourselves in what was basically a commune. We had fit right in. Everyone else were other refuges from the street. Although Magenta was the youngest one there, she'd learned very quickly the ways of the street, and could keep her head above water just as well as anyone else. She was still a child, barely even 12 years old. I was just past 15 myself.
We had a corner to a room to ourselves. Just a corner. A beat up mattress, a few blankets, and a cheap coat rack. The people in the "cots" near us had brought their girlfriends and we could hear them having a good time. Magenta gave me a look that seemed to ask "What are they doing?" I could always read her. It seemed almost as if I could read her mind. I don't know what empowered me, but I lowered my head to hers. "This, is what their doing." I said, gently brushing my lips to hers. She smiled, and a slight blush crept into her cheeks. I kissed her gently again, and this time she replied. Before we knew it, we had joined two of our housmates in contributing to the ever present noise of the commune.
The next morning our lives were forever changed. Typical morning after syndrome, but worse. I couldn't leave her. Not my sister, not my lover, not my only hold onto life. That's what she was. My only tie to sanity. The only reason why I was still alive. Not hanging from some rafter somewhere. I looked at her, sleeping soundly. Both in the dream, and in reality.
My mind snapped back to the present. She was so beautiful. She always had been. But now she had a grotesque air about her. The air of an adulteress. Her curves were no longer inviting. No, instead they seemed repulsive. I couldn't help but wonder how many other people had ran there hands along her wonderful curves. I steadied the hand that held the knife, lifting it gently. I took a deep, ragged breath. It was now or never.
I felt Magenta stir slightly, breaking my thought. I looked over at her. The bitch. A cheap whore, not unlike janet. I ran my eyes over her, almost as if I could kill off part of her just by staring, boring through her soul. I could sense she was starting to wake up. I gently stroked her hair, ran a hand softly down her cheek. She smiled and turned over onto her side. I gave a grin that matched hers, but mine was for a different reason. She wouldn't know. Not till the end. As I stared at her, I couldn't help but remember that first night.
We had just gotten off the street. We were in a halfway house of sorts. We didn't have the money to rent our own apartment. Besides, we were too young to get one. So we found ourselves in what was basically a commune. We had fit right in. Everyone else were other refuges from the street. Although Magenta was the youngest one there, she'd learned very quickly the ways of the street, and could keep her head above water just as well as anyone else. She was still a child, barely even 12 years old. I was just past 15 myself.
We had a corner to a room to ourselves. Just a corner. A beat up mattress, a few blankets, and a cheap coat rack. The people in the "cots" near us had brought their girlfriends and we could hear them having a good time. Magenta gave me a look that seemed to ask "What are they doing?" I could always read her. It seemed almost as if I could read her mind. I don't know what empowered me, but I lowered my head to hers. "This, is what their doing." I said, gently brushing my lips to hers. She smiled, and a slight blush crept into her cheeks. I kissed her gently again, and this time she replied. Before we knew it, we had joined two of our housmates in contributing to the ever present noise of the commune.
The next morning our lives were forever changed. Typical morning after syndrome, but worse. I couldn't leave her. Not my sister, not my lover, not my only hold onto life. That's what she was. My only tie to sanity. The only reason why I was still alive. Not hanging from some rafter somewhere. I looked at her, sleeping soundly. Both in the dream, and in reality.
My mind snapped back to the present. She was so beautiful. She always had been. But now she had a grotesque air about her. The air of an adulteress. Her curves were no longer inviting. No, instead they seemed repulsive. I couldn't help but wonder how many other people had ran there hands along her wonderful curves. I steadied the hand that held the knife, lifting it gently. I took a deep, ragged breath. It was now or never.