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I run upstairs when I hear the screaming.
My thin legs could not carry me any faster.
When I finally get to the top of the stairs, I witness the most blood curdling sight.
There is so much blood on the floor, it pours out of the bathroom door and seeps slowly into the carpet.
I can't look at him laying there, weakly writhing from the pain.
My sister is bent over his body crying, calling for him.
I fall back against the banister in shock.
My...D..Draco's eyes where much paler than usual.
His face is placid and calm.
He turns towards me slowly taking a deep breathe.
I've never seen him more serene
He'd always been an intense person.
He wasn't very abrasive, but he was very extreme.
Many look at him and see a charming, well learned , good looking man.
He knew this.
And being society's Renaissance man was his greatest love of all time.
In the end I think that's why our family fell so hard.
We were in love with him, and he was madly in love with himself.
Most families have two sides, the perfect one that is paraded in public. And, the other side which is infected with people's natural imperfections.
This is very much like our family.
But, there is one thing that sets us apart from your average family.
We are so perfect that we look like the dream family.
We are the dream family
Our whole existence is based on a fabricated perfection.
But, one day that fabrication actually materialized.
It must have snuck into our home one night, and permeated our souls.
Because, before I knew it, we were perfection, and perfection was us.
We said all the right things. My mom wore all the right clothes. Draco knew all the right people. I and my sister got all the right grades.
Everyone would look at us and smile. Because we look like life sized portraits.
We are life sized portraits.
We are constantly smiling back at people like portraits always do.
Portraits in a house smile back at you, even if the house is burning to the ground.
Portraits smile, when there is nothing to smile for.
We'd be better nailed to a wall then Mona Lisa.
When your a image you don't feel your happiness, nor your sadness.
When we sit down at the dinner table the only feeling we have is full. After all, portraits don't taste.
When we say 'I love you. It hurts, because we don't mean it. We don't love or hate.
After all we are but two dimensional beings not capable of such passion or yearning.
I remember a time before I knew I was to be this way.
But, Draco made sure I learned. Oh how he made sure.
My mother was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
I used to ask her to marry me. She used to laugh, sincerely laugh with a genuine joy.
She had the most endearing eyes and hopeful smile.
When ever she saw me she'd smile at her first born son with pride.
One day I came home from school and she was sitting in the living room with her head in her hands.
She heard me come in and she looked up.
She had been crying.
Something is wrong.
"Michael we should leave, me and you."
I frown. "What are you talking about?"
My palms start to get sweaty, something was terribly wrong.
I hear it in her voice.
I start panicking and crying and so does she.
"Mom tell me what's wrong?!" I plead with her.
She starts shaking her head and stands up.
I look near the kitchen door and there are several bags.
"Please mom I don't understand."
"Shh!" She say's harshly.
"He doesn't know your home yet."
She was talking about Draco. But, I didn't know why she was acting this way.
"Your grades came today Michael. I told you to study for your exams." She says balling up her hand.
"Is dad mad at me?"
She shakes her head no and yes at the same time not able to coney the magnitude of his anger.
"Furious Michael, he's furious."
I stop crying. The solution seemed so simple for a ten year old.
"I'll tell dad that I'll study extra next time."
Her mouth straightened into two lines.
"No! We have to leave. Now."
She knew something that I didn't.
I didn't know what was going on but basic instict told me I was in danger.
As smart as my mom was, she made one fatal stupid mistake.
She chose me over him, and that meant trouble for us.
Hell hath no fury like the scorned son of Lucius.
tbc. please review