Gift/Death
The large room is empty at this hour, except for the two oldest children of the house. One is curled up on a large couch, immersed in a book on supernatural phenomenons. The other one is sprawled on the floor, filling out a crossword with a bright red gel pen while pop music blares from his walkman's speakers. The one on the floor looks up with unnatural eyes, and purses his lips. He stares at the boy on the couch and makes some quick calculations in his head.
„I know when you'll die."
The one on the couch seems unfazed. He knows that he won't achieve his goal, like he knows that fire burns and that you die if you don't eat.
„So? If it interests you, I know how you'll die."
The boy dubbed A sees a prison cell, and knows of a sudden stabbing pain in the chest. It's like the words „cardiac arrest" are written on B's face. Figuratively speaking, of course.
„Say what? I don't think I want to know." B retrieves a lollipop from his pocket and sticks it into his mouth.
„Me neither."
A returns to his book. „For every gift a price must be paid." is the heading of the next chapter.
In their cases, the prices clearly are their sanity and their lives.
A knows it.