He ran his tongue over his teeth absentmindedly. Waiting behind the door, drumming his washed fingertips on the spotless wall.

Three wrapped chocolates weighed down his pocket, like smooth pebbles. He'd done so much in so little time; the buzz of anticipation ran a stampede across his chest.

His parents were asleep. And they'd be sleeping for a long, long time. Until daybreak of tomorrow, maybe. That left plenty of time.

Time for looking at more blood.

A piercing ring prompted him to raise his inclined head and nod towards the hanging clock. His polished reflection nodded back at him from its circular glass.

His eyes were free of consequence.

A peculiar feeling had washed over him, and seemingly latched on and grown like a parasite along with the ticks of the clock. No guilt. No fault. Just a visionary thirst for red.

And a vessel who could give him what he craved.

Smiley looked away from his reflection's steely glare. He smiled inwardly, turning towards the door to his brother's room.

Thirty minutes to midnight.

Par to routine, this was when they would sneak downstairs for midnight snacks. Tippy-toed and
nimble-footed, all with alert senses ready to run at the first sound of Father stirring.

Come to think of it... fridge raiding was the only time when they ever worked together.

(Mother slept far too heavily, but Father was an insomniac. No, not an insomniac. He just never slept. Didn't need it. So he'd stay up reading every night, without the lamp on, always a threat of hearing the quiet footfalls of his sons creeping towards the kitchen.)

Click.

He exhaled. At last. Old habits die hard.

The door handle turned; a gleaming bauble of gold, shining to such inhuman cleanliness that it cast flecks of yellow light on the scuff-free floor.

Little Drevon peeked through the crack. His glowing eye flashed across the hall, and widened sharply when it caught sight of Smiley standing there like a statue.

SLAM!

The vibrations of the slammed door rattled obnoxiously down the hall.

Shaking his head, Smiley tutted and glanced over his shoulder. Imagine what would've happened if he hadn't drugged Mother and Father!

He casually wrenched the handle and forced the door open before Smirky had a chance to lock it.

At once his twin ran to his bed and dived underneath the gray blankets, as though they offered the protection of a silver shield. Smiley poked the shivering lump.

"At least act like you're pleased to see me."

Muffled mumble. A flicker of annoyance passed through Smiley's features.

"I. Can't. Hear. You." One poke for each word.

He didn't anticipate the response.

Smirky violently threw the blanket aside and LASHED out at him. A sweeping, stinging slap straight across the face that sent him careening off the edge of the bed.

"How could you!?"

Ah. His voice had come back.

Smiley did not answer straight away. He massaged his jaw, snapped his teeth together to check if it still worked.

A furious red discolouration was forming on the point of impact.

You'll pay for that... The future not-so-good doctor cleared his throat, pretending to shrug off the assault. He spoke sincerely, throwing in some sugar for good measure.

"I'm so sorry for what I did. It was just a joke-" and you're stupid for falling for it, he added mentally. "-And I... it all went wrong when you bit the razor. I'm sorry; I really am."

To be honest he'd hoped that Smirky would swallow it, or - better yet - choke on it.

Not to bite it and then spit it out. Then again, all that pretty red-stained saliva that came afterwards made the effort somewhat worth its toll...

"I don't believe you!" Smirky hugged the blanket to his chest. "You're a liar."

"Okay, okay. I have to win your trust back; I get it. What humiliating thing do I have to do?"

"Tell Father the truth. You put those razorblades in the chocolates, and you didn't stop me from biting into one!"

Smiley pretended to mull it over. Then, still propped up by his elbows on the floor, he sighed in bitter defeat. "I will. I promise."

"Now."

As he rose to his feet and turned to leave, Smirky shrank back and well away from him. Smiley dropped his gaze to the floor and dejectedly walked out, shoulders slumped.

***

Smiley raised his voice, standing in the open doorway of his parent's bedroom. He knew his brother was listening from the other side of the hall.

His act was convincing.

But of course, neither Mother nor Father stirred. How could they possibly hear him? He knew they were unconscious, but Smirky didn't.

Rather than risk giving it away by trying to imitate one of their voices, he pretended that Father was speaking in a very quiet tone, and repeated some choice words.

"Discuss it thoroughly tomorrow? Yes, I understand. I know I won't get away without punishment. I have apologised to Drevon. Hm? Right, right. Goodnight Father."

He softly shut the door.

Cocking his head to one side, Smiley heard the almost-inaudible sound of Smirky scurrying back to bed. Not a clever eavesdropper. Oh well. That should convince him.

"Knock, knock," said Smiley sarcastically, once he'd returned to the entrance of his brother's room (the door was locked this time).

"Did you do it?"

"Were you eavesdropping, or just standing around looking pretty? I know you heard me."

"I... um... I just wanted to make sure-"

"You didn't believe I'd do it, did you? Hah. I'm not a heartless bastard, you know."

"M-Mother told us not to say bad words..."

"Don't worry; what she doesn't know won't kill her. In fact, she swears like a sailor when she thinks no one's listening." Nice try with changing the subject. "Can I come in?"

Smirky hesitated. Smiley imagined his hand hovering over the handle indecisively. That wouldn't do. He cleared his throat.

"Pwease? You can slap me again if you want. I just wanna talk."

Guilt trip. Guilt trip. Guilt trip.

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

Click..

"... I'm sorry for hitting you." Were the first words out of Smirky's mouth, as soon as they came face-to-face. "Does it still hurt?"

"A little," Smiley admitted, rubbing circles on the point of impact tenderly, wincing. He milked the sympathy thoroughly.

The door opened more. He hid a victorious smile and stepped in.

And then the events began to blur. The circumstances were unimportant, shadowed by the results. Still, Smiley's woeful misery picked up the threads and strung them together for him

***

While Smiley made himself comfortable on the floor, Smirky checked if the curtains were drawn, and switched on the bedside lamp.

He then dropped down and joined his brother on the floor, sitting on his knees. Now that the lamp was on, Smiley took note of some things when he looked closely at his brother's face.

Slightly puffy eyelid. Dry streaks on cheek. Occasional sniffle. All telltale signs of a recent crying session. Humph.

Smiley was (begrudgingly) drawn from his study by a timid voice. "You wanted t-to talk...?"

Another pang hit him in the stomach. Smirky still didn't trust him. Honestly! Why did his brother have to make this so hard? Couldn't he just be the gullible twit he usually was?

"Yep! I'm giving you this as a peace offering!" Smiley said cheerfully, producing the chocolates from his pocket with a flourish.

"..."

A dreadful, awkward pause enveloped the room. Smiley inconspicuously glanced around, fixing his eyes on the owl-shaped lamp. And then...

"-Are you trying to be funny?" Smirky said quietly, meeting his eyes with an unsteady gaze.

"It's the only thing I had on hand. I'll eat one first, to prove they aren't tampered with." As he talked, Smiley unwrapped one of the sweets from their colourful wrapper.

He popped it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Then stuck out his very much-intact tongue and blew a raspberry. "See?"

The reply put a scowl on his real face, the face that was invisible behind the mask of sweetness he wore.

"They've got different wrappers. How do I know you didn't colour code them?"

Dammit! Smirky was learning far too much from their sharp-witted Father. That was exactly what he'd done. Only, the other two were chock full of dissolved sleeping drugs.

No, no, no, everything was fine. Smirky was thinking of razorblades or other fun Halloween-themed tricks; there was no way that he expected them to be drugged.

Muttering something about how hard it was to please him, Smiley unwrapped and cracked open one of the bad chocolates.

"No blades this time. Does it smell like rat poison or antifreeze? Wanna put it under an X-Ray machine to check for tiny nanobots?"

He waved the halves in Smirky's face, then let him grab his wrists to pull them closer for inspection. Naturally, they passed. The drug was undetectable.

(Well, undetectable to human noses.
Even though he'd washed his hands free of the substance after lacing the chocolates and their dinner, Lulu avoided him like the plague.)

"Just eat it; I don't want melted chocolate all over my hands!"

The not-so-innocent piece of drugged deliciousness was gone in moments. Smirky waited a few seconds after the first bite, as if waiting for something bad to happen to him. When it didn't, he promptly devoured the rest without hesitation.

Smiley chuckled. It wasn't a creepy chuckle, nor did it sound particularly sinister, unlike the reasons behind why he was chuckling in the first place.

Slow-acting, untraceable, and just enough of a dose to manage him.

He could've put in enough to knock Smirky out entirely, or offered him both chocolates to produce that result, but he didn't.

A part of him, the part so evil it was inhuman, wanted his brother to feel all the pain. He wanted to explore the art of breaking someone to pieces.

And who better to experiment on than a living duplicate of your own reflection?

Tragically, Smiley succeeded.

***

They talked for a while. Sometimes Smirky would cut off abruptly in the middle of his sentences and clench his jaw with a pained look, but apart from that, nothing seemed wrong.

It wasn't the first time they'd pulled such antics, after all. Just... not so risky.

Once during a school outing, Smiley had jokingly pushed Smirky off the bus just as the wheels starting rolling, and Smirky paid him back by 'jokingly' elbowing him off a cliff.

The cliff in question was only three feet tall and more like a tall stone, but it's the thought that counted.

They made up a story to explain away their scrapes, chalking it up to the rough wilderness. Mother and Father had no idea. They had no idea about a lot of things.

After fondly recollecting that set of memories, Smiley did something rather unexpected.

He threw his arm around Smirky's shoulders and yanked him close for a VERY out-of-character cuddle. Still, his brother didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Remember when I swapped all your chocolate eggs for actual eggs last Easter?"

Smirky rested his head on his shoulder, mumbling wistfully. "I tied a pumpkin to a noose and swung it at your head on Halloween as revenge."

"But then I cut open all your Christmas presents, took out the contents, sealed them back up, and left the empty boxes under the tree..."

"I got you back for that too. Rubbed catnip all over your head while you took a nap."

"Oh, so that's why Lulu jumped on the dining table and tried to eat my face during Christmas dinner... twice."

Smirky snuggled down, yawning. A mix of tiredness and friendly interaction had washed away the shock of earlier. He was settled, and was willing to let it slide.

Smiley was sure of this, because he also knew that Smirky adored being cuddled. And since it was such a rare thing in their (rather cold) family, he'd love Smiley all the more for it.

Ah; the ties that bind and how they were broken.

"I've been thinking... Maybe it's time to stop all this borderline attempted murder stuff. Let's be really good brothers, looking out for each other and all that."

While he comforted his brother, reaffirmed their bond over more cheerful small talk and plenty of affection, Smiley had a strange glint in his eye.

"I promise I'll never hurt you again. And you can always trust me from now on. I won't leave you behind. Sound good? You know I never break my promises."

Although Smirky noticed the glint, he didn't pay it as much heed as he should've done.

"I think... I'd like that."

He had been full of such naïveté when it came to trusting. Always willing to give a second chance, a benefit of doubt... Especially when all he wanted was to be loved.

As far as fairytales go, this would be the end. They fell asleep on the floor, to be found by a sleepy-eyed parent the next morning, and lived happily ever after.

But...

This isn't a fairytale.

And so, before Smirky could even think of drifting off to a peaceful slumber, he was shaken wide awake. "Hm?"

"No time for snoozing. Do you remember how I was looking around town for a new abandoned place to explore? Well, I found one. A couple weeks ago."

"Your point..?"

"Well - let's go check it out together! It's more fun at night, too. A spooky abandoned laboratory. I've heard they used to experiment on animals."

"You're obsessed with finding strange places to wander off to in the middle of the night," groaned Smirky, untangling himself and sitting upright. He swayed slightly.

"This one's different! They're still there!"

"What's still there?"

"The animals! Massive, massive carnivorous spiders! There's a secret facility underneath the main units; it's full of cool things."

"What happened to the scientists? Why weren't all the experiments terminated when the lab closed down? Killer spiders don't sound fun." Evidently, he'd captured Smirky's interest.

"Ooh, that's the juicy part. I found it by accident; and I don't think anyone else ever did. It's sealed up pretty tight. The spiders are terrified of torch light. We have to go!"

Smiley had sprung to his feet and was pacing back and forth eagerly. Smirky leaned back and propped his head against the bed.

"But... why would someone create giant killer spiders?"

"I found an old diary in one of the rusty lockers. It rambled about trying to create an ultimate poison or something. The pages kind of disintegrated in my hands..."

"It sounds dangerous and absolutely foolish. ... Should we pack snacks for the trip?"

"Nah. Just throw on a jacket and follow me!"

***

The building was enclosed by an old barbed wire fence. Nature had worn it down to crumbly rust and it was soon behind them, fading out of sight.

An yard surrounded them from every side. Once overgrown; now dying off rapidly. Not enough rain to keep them all alive, and no one to water them.

Without warning, Smiley stopped.

Smirky walked straight into his back, recoiling with a small "ow!" of surprise. He looked like he was about to say something, but then dismissed it.

Smiley dropped down to a crouch and ran his hands over the dry soil. His fingers curled around a handle-shaped piece of metal, embedded deep in the ground.

"Stand back a bit."

He heard his brother's retreating footsteps.

Now, with a steady pace (holding the torch in his mouth), he tugged on the piece, and the impression of a circle began to appear around the ground.

The further he lifted, the clearer it became:

A trapdoor.

Once open, it breathed a poofy cloud of dust. Smiley reeled away, pinching his nose, waving the musty dust away with a hand. "I don't know why that happens every single time."

He was holding the torch again, though not using it.

Smirky came closer to inspect the newly-revealed tunnel. An ominous draft blew forward. He shivered and hugged his jacket. "You went down there by yourself?"

"Yep. Lots of times."

"Wasn't once enough?"

Smiley thumped him playfully on the back, with reckless force.. Almost enough to push his brother over and into the tunnel, whereupon he would break his neck upon landing...

"You know me; I like being thorough," he chuckled.

"Thorough... right..." Smirky looked doubtfully into the tunnel's dark abyss. A semi-safe-looking ladder led into the gloom, moonlight bouncing off a chipped coat of red paint.

"... You're gonna become one of those serial killers who never get caught, aren't you?"

"-Only if you give therapy to the families of my victims afterwards and share all their money with me," Smiley joked.

And then he turned his attention towards the gaping hole in the ground. He took out a second torch from his jacket and passed it over. "After you, dear brother."

Smirky switched it on and swivelled the beam downwards. Amidst a swirling column of illuminated dust, the bottom was roughly thirty feet below.

"What happens if I fall?"

"Gravity."

***

The beginning of the end begun when their feet touched the ground and they began to walk. (Feel free to double back and reread that sentence a few times.)

Shaped like a bottleneck, the hall's walls began to curve outwards on either side. It spilled out to a desolate clearing, full of unmarked doors.

Smiley nudged Smirky's shoulder and gave a subtle nod upwards, directing his attention (and the torch) towards the ceiling.

A horrid scratching sound filled the blank space... It was scuttling. Something had fled from the beam of light. Something big.

Spider...? Smirky mouthed, looking horrified.

Smiley cheerfully nodded.

The scuttling was suddenly a lot, lot closer.

Following them.

He whipped around.

The torchlight struck a massive hairy thing, right between its eight beady eyes. The creature was gruesom;e spiky legs, a grotesque swollen abdomen, and huge fangs.

After a gut-churning five seconds of being spotted, the spider nopewalked away from the light.

"... When you said massive, I thought you meant large tarantulas."

"Actually, there's a dead one upstairs that's the size of a pony. Wanna take a look? A bunch of lady spiders laid their eggs in its rotting carcass."

"No! A thousand times no! How can you say that with a straight face!?" Shudders were crawling across Smirky's drooped shoulders.

Smiley just laughed and grabbed the scruff of his jacket before he could hightail it. "Okay, okay, but there's somewhere I want to show you! Don't you trust me?"

Decisions, decisions.

Smirky stopped trying to tug himself free and meekly smiled. "Um..."

"That's the spirit!" Smiley beamed.

***

With perfect precision, every distraction pulled the clock's racing hands closer to their next ring. The drug in Smirky's system awakened, and slowly poisoned his consciousness.

An occasional step out of pace. A stumble. Drooping posture. Limbs growing limper. Smiley's soul positively glowed whenever he saw a symptom.

"Hey... Where exactly are we go- go-" Smirky stifled a yawn. "-going?"

"My secret surgery. That's why I kept coming back; I've been using one of the abandoned labs for my own experiments, and filling it with all sorts of sharp shiny things."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. It's really the giant spider carcass, isn't it?"

Smiley chuckled darkly and walked faster.

He overtook Smirky and went far ahead.

A gap opened between the scope of their torch lights.

"He-Hey!"

Faster.

"Wait!"

Faster.

"I can't..."

Thump!

Smiley halted and turned around, standing statue-still. In trying to catch up, Smirky had tripped and fallen on his stomach.

His torch rolled out of his hand.

The beam span over and over; a wheel of dim shadows. Its short-lived journey ended by thudding gently against Smiley's foot, blazing sepia light behind him.

Light that bounced off a polished door, and illuminated him from behind.

A look of indescribable terror passed over Smirky's face as he gazed up at him. He saw something that shook him to the bone - Smiley didn't care what it was, but he liked it.

"What's wrong, dearest brother?" he drawled, laying special emphasis on the word 'brother', "you've gone pale."

"Y-Y-You..." his voice wasn't steady as he backed away, crawling on elbows. "What are you...?"

Smiley smiled. He knew something had changed, and it displayed quite viciously, not least of all in his smile itself. A smile full of malicious pointy teeth.

He cocked his head to one side in mock confusion. The smile was etched on his face; it would not fall, it would not fade away, and that was fine.

Something wicked had woken up at last. And every minute- no- every second, it grew bigger, clawing its way into his mind to fill a gap where something was... missing.

The future doctor took a step forward.

He studied the horror on his own brother's face. Looked for the reaction. Found the reaction. Admired the reaction. And then he made his move.

Quick as a hunting owl, he sprung across the hall and reached to grab Smirky by the throat. Smirky rolled out of his way, darted to his feet, and ran.

He rushed back the way they'd come, feeling his way through the unfamiliar terrain by keeping close to the wall. How cute.

Smiley had almost forgot that Smirky had night vision, but no depth perception. The smile dropped from his face however, when he took chase.

Their footsteps raced down the hall.

He could almost hear the thudding heart that rested in his brother's chest cavity. He certainly heard him inhaling sharp breaths, and exhaling in soft pants.

"Oh Dreeeevon?~" Starting out in a deceptive purr, Smiley cupped a hand around his mouth and shrieked: "YOU CAN'T RUN FROM ME!"

There was madness in his voice. And he loved it.

In no time at all, he caught up to Smirky and splayed out his hand to deliver a forceful, powerful shove to the dead center of his back.

"No!"

(crack)

His twin overbalanced and tumbled to the floor, skidding a few feet over the stale dust, bringing their five-minute chase to its conclusion.

The dust swirled angrily, filtering in and out of the torchlight's flickering reach.

Cough. Cough.

Trembling, Smirky tried to get up again, shaking his head dazedly. He froze when Smiley stopped him with a single finger pressed to his forehead.

"Feeling sleepy? I drugged those other chocolates. Hope you remember that the next time you think of eating 'em."

"Promise... You promised..." his chest rose, shuddered, and fell weakly.

Smiley showed off that charming, bloodthirsty smile with a flash of scary teeth. "Did I? You trusted me, and that's going to become the biggest mistake of your life. I'll make it be."

To his irritation, Smirky pulled his legs to a crouch and rose to his feet defiantly.

He wasn't in a stable condition; Smiley was convinced that a single poke would certainly knock him down like a bowling pin.

But Smiley didn't intend to give him a single poke.

Instead, he curled his hand into a tight fist, drew his arm back, and socked him straight across the face.

Wham!

The blow didn't throw Smirky in any particular direction - Smiley hadn't been strong enough to do that sort of thing back then. Instead he crumpled back into a heap on the floor.

A bit like... a collapsed paper lantern.

Yes.

A collapsed paper lantern.

"If you try to stand, you'll just be knocked down, so why bother? Just... give up. Give in. You don't stand a chance in hell aganist me."

To Smiley's amusement, Smirky actually listened.

He slowly lowered his head back to the floor, lay quiet and still and closed his eye. But he was still very much conscious; the dose wasn't to knock him out, oh no.

Smiley's smile grew broader. He dropped down and reached out for Smirky's jacket, the easiest thing to drag, and that's where the memory got hazy.

***

But not hazy enough.

***

He remembered laying his own twin brother on the surgery table and leaving him there for a moment.

Every second was crisp and preserved, every echo of every step he took towards the 'stock cupboard' to switch on a large battery-powered light.

Then, after that, it was a pristine recollection of weaving around the table, securing Smirky's wrists and ankles, with the binds that were already there.

(This animal testing facility had seen a few (involuntary) human volunteers, it seemed.)

They were old, secured like belts, and had a peculiar texture that reminded him of cork boards.

Out of the corner of his sight, when he'd been moving from one irrelevant side to the other, he'd glimpsed a little red orb watching what he was doing. Just for a moment.

When his back was turned, he heard the hushed creak of his handiwork being tested. A hopeful, undoubtably rapid, tug on the restraints.

Biting back a raspy laugh, Smiley turned back to the task at hand; he was looking for his marker. It was rolling around at the bottom of a drawer, amongst dozens of gleaming scalpel blade replacements.

He uncapped it with his teeth, carelessly tossed the cap back into the drawer, and strolled airily around the surgery table, stopping at a certain place in the circle.

"How are you?"

Perhaps against his better judgement, Smirky kept his eye open. But it didn't do him a shred of good; Smiley was standing in his blind spot. Out of sight. Never out of mind.

"It- It's cold."

"Your jacket is hanging by the door," he wore a face of dark amusement, "-but I didn't do that out of courtesy; I'm taking it with me when I leave. It's so nice I'd like to keep it for myself."

He leant in and began drawing a dotted line with the black marker, starting in the dip where the collarbones seemed to meet. Smirky squirmed and tucked his chin in.

"Surgeons mark where they're going to cut," Smiley said flatly, wrenching his brother's chin up with a glove-clad hand. "Don't do that again, or I'll mark it wrong and miss."

***
... Still not hazy enough.
***

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. So he took breaks. He'd drop whatever he was doing and walk over to the sink, the only functioning facility in the building, and wash.

Wash the scalpel. Wash the gloves. Wash his face.

And watch (in the dirty broken mirror hanging in front of it), his brother writhing helplessly against the binds, face contorted in agony, choking on his own screams and sobs.

Then he'd look down to the sink and watch all that pretty red swirling down the grimy basin.

***

Perhaps the best-

(cruelest)

-procedure he performed was the open heart surgery. Smirky fainted when he was forced to take a look. Smiley almost fell over laughing.

***

By the end of the horror fest, there was a big puddle of congealing red fluid at the base of the table, and more dripping off the edges like sticky maple syrup.

Weeks before, Smiley had discovered that he had yet another strange and interesting ability: he could stitch wounds with thread as fine as spider's silk.

And a few minutes, the stitches would dissolve without leaving a scar. (Hence, he could just leave the dead animals at home's doorstep and pretend Lulu dragged them in.)

If anything, it reaffirmed his career choice to become a doctor.

A healer who would kill people.

He hummed the tune of 'London Bridge is Falling Down' while he stitched, closing up the internal cuts with remarkable dexterity, pausing every so often to check Smirky's pulse.

Weak.

But still alive.

"I'm glad we could spend such quality time together - aren't you?"

Everything had left Smirky's visible eye. There was no glow, no gloss, no life. Just a dull disk of red that occasionally disappeared behind a blink, staring passively at nothing.

Where's the fun in a broken toy?

Smiley took off his gloves, removed the mask, and delicately unbuttoned his own jacket, which he'd worn over everything else. He folded it and left it in the cobwebby bin.

Like everything else they owned - their clothes were identical. He walked to the door and shrugged on his brother's jacket. Same size, same fit. No one would be able to tell the difference.

"Brr! You're right - it is rather cold! Good thing my spare jacket was hanging by the door!"

There was no reaction. Well that's-

No, wait. There was a reaction.

His patient stirred from his almost-comatose state and snapped his neck frantically towards him. He couldn't move anything else - Smiley had 'forgotten' to undo the binds.

"Pleeease..."

Smirky's voice had a strange edge about it. Under the hoarseness and rasp that blossomed from hours of nonstop screaming, it had changed a little bit. Lost something.

That was, Smiley deduced, my fault.

He'd made a whoopsie while poking around inside the larynx. By that - he meant that he'd maybe accidentally done something... bad, to one of the vocal chords.

Completely by accident.

Completely.

Not because Smirky bit his hand while he was holding his head down to made the incision.

Smiley turned about and curiously strode back to the surgery table. He wanted to hear the change again, knowing that he'd caused it.

"Please what - set you free?"

(His hands felt stiff after so much work with the cutting.)

"N-No. Please don't... don't go..."

"Don't go? You'd rather be tortured some more than be left alone?"

Smirky's head fell lopsidedly back on the table. The muscles in his neck were too weak to prop it up any longer, or to help him nod. But the hopeful look on his face said an awful lot.

Smiley stifled a bored, exaggerated yawn.

"Sorry dear, I've already got plans. Gotta get home before the sleeping drug wears off and Father comes 'round. Don't worry; I'll come back tomorrow to bury your corpse."

A whimper died in Smirky's throat. He gave his binds a halfhearted pull, but to no avail. By the looks of it - he was starting to pass out from shock.

"You see..." Smiley continued, "the moment I turn off the light, all those big 'n scary carnivorous creepy crawlies are going to be attracted to the blood. They'll like fresh meat."

Was he even still listening?

"So, like I said, I'll come back to bury your corpse tomorrow. Or rather... what's left of it. Don't worry; as far as Mother and Father are concerned - you ran away from home."

***

And that was that.

But even the best laid plans went wrong sometimes. He still didn't know how, but Smirky survived and came back home like a lost puppy.

Well, most of his brother came back. Smiley always suspected that some part of him was left behind. Sanity, perhaps. He was taken to the doctor, but no one believed him.

How could they? He had no marks. Just a hoarse voice. He was prescribed some lozenges and sleeping tablets, and sent off with a referral to see a psychiatrist.

The next day, waiting in the dentist's office, while Mother and Father left to book the appointment with the aforementioned psychiatrist, Smirky tried to kill him.

____________________
A/N: I have this funny feeling that splitting the chapter in half didn't do much to round off the page count...
*happy squeaky voice* There was a birthday~! That's why I'm late!

So... Whaddia think of our new cover?

Steal it, and bad things will happen to ya! ;)

Mark Crilley's Mastering Manga book has an excellent tutorial on side profiles! Though since this "new" cover is a month old, I've probally gotten better. It took nine hours. I'm happy!

Questions of Le Day:
1- Whaddia think of the cover?
2- Do you listen to the music in the media?
Quote of Le Day:
"Material possessions cannot buy true happiness- HOLY MOLY I JUST CAUGHT A SHINY POKÈMON!"

Until the next chapter... Toodle-doo~!
Final Word Count: 7428
[Music In Media:
Duality by Set it Off (Nightcored by ZeroMizKun)
Blood on My Hands by The Used (Nightcored by ZeroMizKun)
Thanks for sticking around! :)]