0000 Disclaimer, I don't own anything 0000 Wow! Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed! Thanks for being so incredibly patient with my lack of updating skills-its schoolwork; it's all school's fault! Well, this story has about two more chapters left maybe one-it depends :D 0000
Matthew walked away from Malcolm.
'Don't worry Mally, I haven't forgotten about you,' he called over his shoulder.
Malcolm remained frozen.
Matthew sauntered over to where Trip and Archer were currently being held, strapped down to chairs, mouths gagged.
'Captain! Commander!' he said brightly. 'So nice you could join us, sorry about the state of the place-blood's a bitch to shift.'
Both men tugged violently at the restraints holding them down.
'Boys, don't insult your intelligence by thinking you can escape,' Matthew tutted. 'Remember, you're in my brother's head now. Escape is impossible, unless Malcolm suddenly grows a spine in the next few minutes, which I severely doubt will happen.' Matthew sat down beside them. 'Besides, he's going to get a little preoccupied.'
The scene before them suddenly slid back into motion and they watched as Malcolm continued walking down the street.
'This is only scary for him,' Matthew commented. 'You see, at this point he's walking home after taking Madeline to her friend's house. He doesn't like walking alone, especially at night; he was a prime-target for the neighbourhood gangs as a kid.'
'Poor thing,' he added unconvincingly.
Malcolm became aware of people moving towards him, he inadvertently stiffened, bowed his down even further and increased his pace slightly. He dared a look.
"Well, look what we have here," a voice whispered in his ear. "Little Malcolm Reed out all on his own."
'Freddie Wilcox,'Matthew commented. 'Strong, intelligent and with a bunch of stupid friends willing to do his dirty work.'
Malcolm tried to get past them but strong arms pulled him back.
"We didn't say you could leave," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Where have you been Weedy Reedy?"
"Nowhere," said Malcolm, trying to look braver than he felt, wishing his heart wasn't beating so loudly.
"That must be really boring," Freddie turned to his group of friends. "Tell you what, why don't we play a game."
"I've got to get home," said Malcolm trying to pull away again.
"I didn't say you had a choice," Freddie snarled. He looked up at his gang and smiled. "Well boys, what shall we play?"
"How about 'chicken'?"
Malcolm's eyes widened and he immediately began twisting to release himself from Freddie's iron grip.
"I've got to get home," he said pleadingly.
"And you can go home," said Freddie patronisingly. "After one game."
Malcolm was dragged into the middle of the road.
"There's no car coming," said another boy disappointedly.
Malcolm sighed with relief only to received a sharp blow to the back of his head, he stumbled forward.
"Yes result!" Freddie exclaimed seeing the glow of headlights. "Wait for it lads, wait for it!"
Malcolm couldn't move, everything fibre of his being was screaming at him to get out the way but he just couldn't respond. As the headlights drew ever closer and the boys laughter became just a roar in his ears, Malcolm thought he'd die of a heart attack even before the car hit. He screamed just once.
Something slammed into his side and the scene melted away.
Matthew turned to Archer and Trip.
'The car didn't actually hit him,' he said conversationally.' Mum had sent me looking for him, the second Freddie's gang saw me-well let's just say I had previous dealings with them. I pushed him out the way, little moron wouldn't move, I don't know why I did it.'
He sighed theatrically.
Trip and Archer gurgled something furiously in the back of their throats but Matthew just smiled.
'Don't get your skivvies in a twist, he's alright.'
Malcolm struggled to his feet breathing heavily and Matthew walked over to him.
'I'm bored of this now,' said Matthew. 'You're childhood fears are excessively boring. You couldn't at least fear something worth watching when you were a kid.'
"What have you done with them?" Malcolm managed staggering slightly. "Matthew, leave them alone."
Matthew studied him a moment.
"Matt," Malcolm tried. "C'mon Matt, leave them alone. Please. Then you can do whatever you want with me. Please, Matt, leave them alone, this is just a family thing."
An odd expression crossed Matthew's face.
'Trying to use brotherly affection to get round me eh Mally,' he drawled. 'Is this concern for them talking, or your fear of them knowing all your dirty little secrets?'
Malcolm fell silent and Matthew pushed him back down to the ground in disgust.
'Let's go back shall we?' Matthew snarled suddenly. 'To the day you just stood there while I lay bleeding on the ground. To the day you betrayed me. To the day you just watched me die and DIDN'T DO A DAMNED THING TO HELP ME!'
The black around them shifted, till they were in the hallway of Malcolm's childhood home. Malcolm looked down at his hands only to see he was holding his tattered notebook, the one that contained every poem he'd ever written. He opened it; one of the pages was missing.
Matthew disappeared. Malcolm got to his feet and walked up to one of the doors.
"Matthew," he said timidly.
The door slid open to a seemingly empty room. The bed was unmade, school books were strewn across the carpet and an unfinished model boat was sat on the desk. Malcolm took a step into the room, his heart already beating a tattoo against his chest. Something caught his eye.
He took another step into the room and simply stared open-mouthed.
Matthew was laid on the ground in front of him, his eyes closed, his skin unnaturally pale and his blood in a large pool on the ground beside him. The torn page from Malcolm's notebook was lying next to him, the bottom of the page already stained red.
Matthew's arms were slit from elbow to wrist.
It finally hit Malcolm and he backed away falling backwards onto the bed screaming. He screamed till he was hoarse and didn't stop screaming till his mother burst into the room.
The scene froze but Malcolm remained huddled on the bed. Matthew stood up and advanced on him.
'WHY DIDN'T YOU HELP ME!' he bellowed furiously. 'YOU STOOD THERE AND WATCHED ME DIE AND YOU DIDN'T DO A BLOODY THING TO HELP ME! I NEEDED HELP AND YOU ABANDONED ME!'
"No," Malcolm whispered crying. "Slit wrists are a cry for help, you slit from elbow to wrist, and you wanted to die."
'No!' Matthew spat. 'I wanted you to help me and you abandoned me."
"You were already dead when I got here," Malcolm cried. "There was nothing I could do! You were already dead! You were already dead!"
Trip and Archer watched on horrified, tugging manically at their restraints, trying to call out to him through their gags. But it was no use.
Matthew seized hold of Malcolm and literally threw him across the room. Malcolm bounced across the floor and skidded to a halt at Archer's feet.
'You were always afraid I'd come back,' Matthew sneered. 'You were always afraid people would realise what you'd done.'
Malcolm cowered on the floor unable to find his voice again.
'Well now people know,' said Matthew nodding his head towards Archer and Trip. 'They know your dirty little secret. But because I'm a good big brother I'll make sure they never tell.'
Malcolm raised his head just as Matthew brought out a phase pistol from nowhere.
"No!" Malcolm screamed. "God No!"
Archer's face registered one of complete shock as Matthew fired-a sadistic smile playing on his lips.
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