They sat in Father's study, where it was quiet and undisturbed. The room, situated all the way up in the attic, had not a speck of typical dust in sight.

It was decorated in "autumn"colours (or so Father claimed), but one would be wise to notice that everything had a reddish tint to its name.

Still, it always boasted such relaxing, bookish character, that no one minded.

Two mirrored bookcases sat on either side of the room, with a mounted lamp on either side of each one, shining down cones of soft cream light.

We'll get to why these bookcases are important to note in a moment. Many classics flooded the mahogany shelves, organised by alphabet, carving a careful illusion of good taste.

Though... taking a closer look, would reveal that a notable amount of disturbing books were hidden amongst the normal ones. (These were the only volumes that looked read.)

Now, sitting beneath one of the bookcases were the twin boys, considerably younger. This is where Smiley's memory began, and ran like an unstoppable film reel.

"I have a present for you."

He registered suspicion flash in his brother's eyes. Or rather, eye. The bad one was covered by a cotton eyepatch, to set their parents at peace for that special day.

"What is it...?" questioned a weary Smirky, leaning in closer.

Smiley beamed cheerfully and gave him a box. It was wrapped in plain paper, with a poofy bow tied around. Spidery handwriting scrawled in a corner read:

Happy birthday Drevon!

And a big smiley face underneath.

"F-For... for me?"

"Well if you don't want it-" Smiley reached to take the box back. As he anticipated, Smirky gripped it tight, close to his chest, and turned a little away so it couldn't be reached.

"Thank you."

Although young, Smiley had already perfected his deceptive smile. So innocent, charming, and perfectly sincere-looking. "Don't mention it. Open?"

"O-Oh, of course..." A trace of disbelief was left in his words.

For the next few minutes, the study was filled by the sound of rustling paper.

Smirky wouldn't take so much care with a normal gift, noted Smiley, who then scanned the bookcases, reading titles off the book spines to keep himself occupied.

(Father had no idea that he often 'borrowed' from those bookcases. The forbidden fruit was just so fascinating. His favourite was a series about performing torture.)

Finally, the bow came undone and unraveled into a curly lock of blood red satin ribbon. Smirky let it go, and curiously pried open the box's lightweight lid to peek inside. 

"Chocolate?" His eye opened wider. He glanced up. "But this is your share-"

Smiley reached out to ruffle his twin's hair, and bit back a chuckle at how scruffy he looked afterwards. No wonder Mother was fond of doing likewise. With mischief glittering in his eyes, Smiley answered the hanging question.

"Yep: they're supposed to be my gift. But I don't know... this year, I kind of feel like giving them to you. Why don't you try one?"

"A-Are you sure it's alright for me to have these?" Smirky paused, then set down the box and pushed it so it sat between them. "Can I share them with you?"

The box of chocolates slid back towards him. "Don't you know it's rude not to accept a gift?"

"Oh no, I wasn't-"

"Then. Eat. It."

***

The curtains fell; the trick was finished. And while Smirky rushed out of the study and down the stairs, Smiley picked up the fallen chocolate from the floor.

He delicately tilted the half-bitten chocolate; and a twinkling glint of silver caught the light of the lamp, buried snugly in the reddened caramel.

Plucking out the tainted razorblade, Smiley stowed it away in his pocket. The blood seeped a little, but his pocket had quite thick lining. And even if it did show - the material was red anyway.

His scarlet eyes fell upon the half-bitten confection in his hand. The next evidence piece. How would he hide it? Simple.

After turning it over for a while, he just popped the chocolate in his mouth and chewed.

Not bad.

Just a hint of metallic flavour, but still very much sweet and tasty.

His ears pricked; he heard a murmur of concern downstairs. Father's solemn voice.

And then a glass-shattering shriek from Mother.

Well. That was that.

Smiley bent down and picked the plain white wrapping paper, which had been undone so carefully, off the floor.

The young boy quickly tore off the piece where he'd written his brother's little happy birthday note. He read over it again, scoffed, and shredded it.

And then he neatly sprinkled the indecipherable scraps into a silver waste paper bin.

Almost done.

While he did all of this, not once did he feel a rush of adrenaline, nor the slightest ounce of danger. He stayed calm, calculated, and unhurried.

It felt as though he were invincible, untouchable.

He didn't have the slightest doubt in his mind; he could and he would get away with anything. And he did.

(Word count, word count, boosty boost boost! ;))

"Come here, Lulu."

Lulu was the name of their family cat, albino of course. During her life, she had been partially deaf in one ear, and very proficient at using her perfectly good one selectively.

She brought an elegant chill into the room as she graced it with her presence.

With such sleek form, she always reminded him of a mink. However, Lulu was ferocious as a panther when she wanted to be; and that was something he counted on.

(In advance, Smiley had bought the elderly feline's allegiance with luxurious treats and extensive pampering. Therefore, she sucked up to him at every opportunity.)

Airy purrs vibrated in her throat. Lulu weaved full circle around him, stepped daintily over his crossed knees. Her snowy pelt shone under the lamplight; thousands of snowy hairs all in motion, giving away subtle hints of the shifting muscles underneath.

She stopped in the middle of her fifth circle or so, and sat. Her pinkish eyes bore sternly into his red ones, as though saying 'I know what you've done, and I condemn it.'

Silly cat. A smirk played on his lips.

S L A M! The study door almost flew off its hinges, bursting wide, wide open.

"Devin, darling! Are you hurt too?" It was Mother. In a blink, she was down on one knee in front of him, hand to his forehead, as if afraid he was feverish.

He hated the melodramatic antics. But he played the part of a saint, assuring her gently that he was fine, delicately removing her hand from his shoulder.

As Mother dragged him into a fussy hug, his mind longed for distraction.

He chanced to glance past the blur of her raven hair, and saw what he'd been waiting for:

Dearest brother.

Smirky clutched the doorframe for some kind of support, while he held a makeshift ice pack wrapped in kitchen cloth up to his mouth.

A red stain blossomed upon the white fabric. From his station on the floor, Smiley's piercing eyesight could see it spread gradually from the bottom, dripping off a rosy corner.

And the future not-so-good doctor was transfixed by it.

Transfixed on the colour.

The faint scent of blood; a wonderful perfume to his senses.

He wanted to see more.

No - he needed to see more.

The anticipation of opening birthday presents was nothing compared to the thought of cutting open his twin's skin, examining what was underneath.

A delicious chill plummeted through his spine.

Something must have betrayed his sinister ideas; a tiny change in his expression perhaps. For, Smirky immediately tried to flee. A cold voice froze him in his tracks.

"Stay."

The second parent had slipped past their attention unnoticed, as he seemed to have a skill of doing. Smiley felt a twinge of the faintest anxiety.

Father was far, far more clever. Behind those gleaming square-rimmed glasses in their red frames, just the sheer ferocity of his crimson gaze could send a monster fleeing.

"What happened here?" Always calm, always composed. Even with one of his sons bleeding profusely from the mouth, he remained unaffected.

Smiley cleared his throat (drawing the burning gaze toward himself like a honed searchlight) and mentally went over the story he'd been reciting in secret practice for an entire week.

"It's my fault."

Smirky, who'd hidden himself behind Father's back to escape Smiley's sight, leaned outward a little to peek out.

"... We were playing truth or dare, and I dared Drevon to kiss the cat. I didn't know she would scratch him; honest," Smiley explained seamlessly.

"Is that so?"

Smiley actually shrank back a bit; this was one of the times when Father was a little scary. He reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about.

"Uh-huh."

His story had been rehearsed well enough. 

"I see."

Father slowly strode into the room, leaving Smirky alone in the cold hallway. When faced with this problem, Smirky trailed after him meekly, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Almost on cue, Lulu meowed and stretched herself over Smiley's lap to relax.

She dug her pointy claws into the soft material of his trousers, yawning authenticity into his innocent white lie, though by unintentional means.

"... What's this?"

Smiley snapped to attention; Father had noticed the inconspicuous box of chocolates. At once, his mind jumped in gear, ready to deliver the best performance of his life.

"Oh, it's a gift. Drevon was going to give it to me after our game. He said he wanted me to... 'savour every bite', I think?"

A flicker of something unreadable appeared on the face of the little shadow hiding behind Father. Surprise? Betrayal? Surely he knew what was going to happen next.

Looking curious, Father unwrapped one of the chocolates.

His slender fingers pried it open and, like unsheathing a sword, a razorblade revealed itself.

"....."

Mother clapped a hand over her mouth. Father was quiet. Dangerously quiet, looking over his shoulder at his other son.

Smiley changed his expression as necessary. A shocked face, exactly mimicking the look of his twin's face when his tongue discovered one of the blades.

"W-Wha... I-I could've died from eating that! Are they in all of them? Drevon, how cou-ha-could you?"

He inhaled sharply in the middle of saying 'could'. What sounded like emotion, was a hysterical insane laugh, cloaked over before it could fully emerge.

All Smirky could do was shake his head desperately. He was trembling, actually trembling.

The red had stopped soaking the cloth. The "scratch" wound had clotted. It must have hurt bad, if he couldn't open his mouth to plead his own innocence.

Well, that made things easier. Smiley hurriedly hugged his mother, gave a few sobs to put icing on the cake, and let her usher him out of the study.

Favouritism was fun. 

His parents could never admit the possibility that there was something wrong with him. Not even Father. It was a secret denial, something they themselves were not aware of.

But Smiley was.

And he had no trouble in taking full advantage of it.

He saw Lulu clambering into an empty space in the bookshelf's lowest row (where three books were borrowed- gone), and then the door was shut.

Smiley never really found out (or cared to ask) about what happened in the study afterwards, but he knew three things were certain.

-    Father raised his voice.
-    Smirky ran out of the study with his face buried in a sleeve.
-    And he, Smiley, had some more preparations to make before the clock struck twelve.

Continued in the next chapter.