Plot. FUCKING. Twisters.
You opened your eyes, looking at a smiling face. You closed them again, hiding them as a blush creeped up onto your face.
"Morning, sunshine." He kissed your forehead, holding you close. "Morning." You opened your eyes, smiling back up at him before he pressed his lips against yours. You kissed him back, staring into his red eyes. "Your eyes are so pretty." He chuckled, kissing you again. You moved some hair from his face to have it just fall back into place. His stretched grin still visible. He kissed you softly before getting up and stretching.
"I'm going to shower, you want to join me?" You nodded, sitting up and sliding out of the bed, your legs wobbling before he grabbed you. "Shit, here." He moved, picking you up and carrying you in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head against his shoulder. You closed your eyes slightly, opening them to see the white porcelain bathroom.
You were writing something. It was obviously a story you had been working on, but it was still being written and nobody was allowed to read it. You heard the door open and saw a short haired brunette. She walked in and went over to Mr. Strider, giving him a small kiss o-
On the lips.
You lowered your head a bit, hearing them mumble and talking to each other. You quickly gathered your things and left the classroom, maybe it'd be easier for them to talk if you weren't right next to them. Or around them in general. You made a turn before running outside and towards your house, tears streaming down your face. You didn't care about the sunlight beaming down you or the cars passing by going the opposite of your direction. You tripped and fell, shaking as you stood up, grabbing your bag and slowly walking the same direction you were going, tears still streaming down your face.
You went to the backdoor, opening it and going through the kitchen to the stairs, heading up to your room. You heard your dad in the living room, talking to someone? You didn't know if he was talking to anyone or himself, but he sounded drunk, which wouldn't surprise you at all. You stepped wrong on a stair and slid, tumbling down them. Your backpack, heavy with books, fell on top of you. You thought you heard a snap, when you saw a foot in front of your face. You felt the weight of the bag come off you, be- oh shit wait you're being lifted as well. You were pinned to the wall, feeling a fist in your face. And another. And another and another and another.
After a few more punches and a lot of crying out to stop, he threw you down and got down with you, starting to undo your pants. You started sobbing more than you were earlier, seeing him grab a roll of duct tape from under the ottoman that was always near the stairs. He ripped off a piece and placed it on your mouth, pulling your pants and boxers down, you felt the tears roll down your face and onto the duct tape, you closed your eyes, not wanting to see what you knew was going to happen next.
You can only say this; it hurt, you kept crying out muffled stop's and no's, there was blood, and you were dragged upstairs and forced into a tub full of water and piss afterwards.
You were done. You were really done. You heard Kankri downstairs, he having come home after the treacherous damage had been done. Dad probably told him that he coughed up blood and was okay now. You knew that Kankri, being at an age where he can drink, owned a small .45 caliber handgun. You also knew that he didn't know that you took it and hid it in your closet. You went to it and loaded the gun. Tears still slid down your face as you aimed it towards your head, shaking. You went to squeeze the trigger, hearing your door open.
You were startled and you tossed the gun, it firing at the ceiling as you fell onto the floor. You saw Kankri's face as he looked at you, shocked and scared. You started to shake your head before he stepped in and closed the door, going towards you and hugging you.
It was one of the few times you cried in front of him, but it was the first time you allowed him to cling to you and tell you that you shouldn't kill yourself. You told him everything. About Dave, about Dad, everything. You clung to him like a young child, which was very embarrassing, and he held you tightly, stroking your hair. This pretty much continued until four am, even when you did stop crying. You didn't notice the time until you heard his soft snoring and you pulled out your phone. You had five missed texts from Dave, twelve missed calls from Dave, and about another fifteen missed texts from all your other friends. Kankri must have texted some of their older siblings that you attempted suicide. You didn't care, so you set your phone back down, laying your head on your brother before falling asleep.
Idk I just like the thought of two brothers just having comfort time. Because, Kankri does (or should) care about his younger siblings.