He looked into her eyes. Those eyes that were so changed. Those eyes that had stared trustingly up at his before they'd filled with fear.
"Hello, Brother."
Hoarse sobs racked his body, as for the first time in decades, he felt an emotion that he'd not felt before.
Joy. A lifting of the guilt he'd forgotten how to feel. Pure relief.
His face contorted with delight - both at his pleasure, and at feeling something he'd not felt before.
With a trembling hand he traced a line of blood down her scar.
"You lived. Dead. How did you survive? I remember your death. I thought I'd killed you." He said shakily.
"I was strong, and mother lived just long enough to call an ambulance. I see the police never caught you. She called them too."
"I remember the way you screamed. Heart shattering. Who'd have though my little Jenna could be so loud. I used to hear it all the time. I remember when the cat brought in a little bird, the way it looked when it died." He croaked, laughing
"Did you know, your name means 'little bird', Jenna? Your body. So still. I thought it was a scar I'd bear for life. But it faded. It became dull and jaded like everything else."
"Brother, I watched you trying to fight the boredom that had infected you. Do you remember before that when I said I'd give my life for you? Do you remember... after you'd killed me... me saying that I forgive you. I still do. You killed my mother, my father, you left me for dead. But I loved you even as your blade met my body. I still do."
She sighed, as though tired of breathing.
"These emotions." He rasped, his eyes grew a little more mad. "I must feel them again. I want that again!" Greed entered his face, and Jenna stepped back, reflexively.
"Wait! I won't survive another time! Please, I have something better." She cried out, fearing the desperate sorrowful murderous gleam in his eye.
Jenna held up a box. It was fairly small, but very ornate.
"I watched you my brother. I knew that when I'd survived it was only a matter of time before you'd find me again. At first my search was motivated by fear. But then... by love. I gave every second of my life to you. I met people who feel like you, and I understood your sickness. It took me decades of searching. I searched every day for years. The paths I followed changing to dead ends. Every time I got so close. Then I heard the rumour of a box. THE box. The one that will open doors. The creatures - somewhere between angels and demons - through one of those doors that will show you things you couldn't even imagine - delightful pains and terrible pleasures. Then the person who had the box found me. And now, it's yours."
She flushed as he seemed unaffected by her words
"Don't you understand?! Here I hold a reason for you to live! A goal! Here lies everything you've wanted since you were a child."
Slowly, a smile spread across his face, as he realised, that after this, he'd never need to search again. It was all here. And he'd never need to kill the last person he loved.
He opened his mouth, and roared with delight. THe bestial man on top of London bridge in the middle of daylight. Dripping blood onto the pavement, waving a child's puzzlebox in the air.
"Hello, Brother."
Hoarse sobs racked his body, as for the first time in decades, he felt an emotion that he'd not felt before.
Joy. A lifting of the guilt he'd forgotten how to feel. Pure relief.
His face contorted with delight - both at his pleasure, and at feeling something he'd not felt before.
With a trembling hand he traced a line of blood down her scar.
"You lived. Dead. How did you survive? I remember your death. I thought I'd killed you." He said shakily.
"I was strong, and mother lived just long enough to call an ambulance. I see the police never caught you. She called them too."
"I remember the way you screamed. Heart shattering. Who'd have though my little Jenna could be so loud. I used to hear it all the time. I remember when the cat brought in a little bird, the way it looked when it died." He croaked, laughing
"Did you know, your name means 'little bird', Jenna? Your body. So still. I thought it was a scar I'd bear for life. But it faded. It became dull and jaded like everything else."
"Brother, I watched you trying to fight the boredom that had infected you. Do you remember before that when I said I'd give my life for you? Do you remember... after you'd killed me... me saying that I forgive you. I still do. You killed my mother, my father, you left me for dead. But I loved you even as your blade met my body. I still do."
She sighed, as though tired of breathing.
"These emotions." He rasped, his eyes grew a little more mad. "I must feel them again. I want that again!" Greed entered his face, and Jenna stepped back, reflexively.
"Wait! I won't survive another time! Please, I have something better." She cried out, fearing the desperate sorrowful murderous gleam in his eye.
Jenna held up a box. It was fairly small, but very ornate.
"I watched you my brother. I knew that when I'd survived it was only a matter of time before you'd find me again. At first my search was motivated by fear. But then... by love. I gave every second of my life to you. I met people who feel like you, and I understood your sickness. It took me decades of searching. I searched every day for years. The paths I followed changing to dead ends. Every time I got so close. Then I heard the rumour of a box. THE box. The one that will open doors. The creatures - somewhere between angels and demons - through one of those doors that will show you things you couldn't even imagine - delightful pains and terrible pleasures. Then the person who had the box found me. And now, it's yours."
She flushed as he seemed unaffected by her words
"Don't you understand?! Here I hold a reason for you to live! A goal! Here lies everything you've wanted since you were a child."
Slowly, a smile spread across his face, as he realised, that after this, he'd never need to search again. It was all here. And he'd never need to kill the last person he loved.
He opened his mouth, and roared with delight. THe bestial man on top of London bridge in the middle of daylight. Dripping blood onto the pavement, waving a child's puzzlebox in the air.
