0. prologue

╔═══════════════╗
PROLOGUE
j i g s a w
╚═══════════════╝

THERE WAS PAINT ON HIS FINGERS. There would be times when Edmund would look down at his hands to find them covered with patches of color, most of the time not knowing how it got there or when, for that matter. But as he watched the assortment of reds, yellows, and blues disappear down the drain, he felt different than he usually did.

Something was different, he thought. Yes, something was indeed different. There was something wrong here -- terribly, incredibly, and deeply wrong about the new blood-like paint stains on the bowl of his sink.

An abrupt feeling of emptiness in his chest manifested in seconds, and no matter how hard Edmund strained his thoughts for answers to his perplexity, he could not find an explanation for this unyielding feeling of dread that encompassed him. The heat in the room was suddenly acknowledged as beads of sweat started to form across his brow. His heart pounded as he thought about what could have caused this feeling until all that was left in his mind was a disturbing, anxiety-filled yearning to dive for the color stained water that speedily drained away and hold it in his palms.

He didn't know what the yearning to stop the water from draining meant, or what would happen if he did catch a hand-full of it before it was gone. But Edmund wondered if he peered into the tinted water, would he see something different? Or would he just see himself, staring back at him with the same distasteful frown he currently wore? He never received his answer — his eyes continued watching the smooth water wash over his hands, purging them of any evidence that there was actually ever paint to begin with.

A faint squeak coming from outside the bathroom startled Edmund, making his eyes — still on the mirror — glance towards the door to see the reflection of whoever was about to enter. But he already knew who it was before the knob turned.

Tomen's walker appeared first through the door, it's dull gray colors almost completely blocked out by the significant amount of signatures scribbled all over its surface with a rainbow of colored markers. It was decorated with key chains that jingled with every step he took and enchanted fire stickers that flickered every so often like the fireplace in their living room did. He liked to change the stickers every other week to whatever image fitted his mood, which was usually fire.

Then Edmund saw the rest of his body emerge from the door, his daunt figure was covered by overly baggy pajamas that he had gotten for his birthday last year — he had trouble keeping the cotton shirt from slipping off his shoulders every time he took a step. But nevertheless, as he rubbed his eyes to help himself adjust to the bright light in the bathroom, he welcomed Edmund with his normal cheerful greeting.

"What's up, slutbag?"

Edmund breathed out a tiny laugh as he turned off the faucet, immediately slipping on his elbow high gloves and long sleeve sweater, disregarding the heat in the room that was already making him sweat. With the water no longer running, the bathroom was completely silent -- excluding the sound of Tomen getting adjusted. Edmund grabbed his brother's arm and helped him stand while he twisted the walker around so the seat was easily accessible to him and he could sit down. Once seated, Tomen glanced towards the sink to see the stains along the lining of the porcelain, a frown settling on his face, "You gonna clean that shit up?"

"Aren't you chipper this morning?"

While rubbing his face with both of his hands, pulling his skin backwards for dramatic effect, he complained, "You're the one who decided to wake me up at four in the morning."

"It's four in the morning?" Edmund questioned, bewildered. His eyes glanced up at the clock hanging above the mirror in front of him to see that the little hand was indeed pointed at the four. The realization of how much noise he probably made before finally hit him, "I'm sorry."

"It's too late for that now, isn't it? I'm now up due to your late night shenanigans. So," he shakily stood up and turned his walker around so he could grab the cushioned handlebars to steady himself, "Show me what you've defiled this time."


The two boys stood still in the middle of Edmund's bedroom, staring at the grey wall beside his bed covered in color. Edmund's arms hugged himself as his eyes shifted around the room, trying to avoid the mess he created on the wall. Every so often, he picked at the seam that ran along the edge of his gloves. He had gotten them years ago, but they looked brand new. But his habit of pulling on the seam caused a plethora of holes to form that he would have to sow up later again and again and again.

"Wow...That's a lot of red," Tomen said as he walked towards the wall, his eyes dancing around each part of the painting with his eyebrows raised up and his lips pressed together, "You should add a little yellow in the corner up there, it'll add a bit of contrast. But if your going for a monochromatic scheme then that's cool too--"

"I didn't invite you in here to critique my painting techniques."

"You didn't invite me in here, period. I go where I want in this house."

Edmund rolled his eyes, "Just tell me what you think it means."

"Hold up," Tomen turned towards his brother in a sarcastic way, "You want me to decipher the meaning behind a painting you did in your sleep with your bare hands? I'm sorry, umm, would you also want me to stand up and do a couple of push ups? Go on a run? Do a little bit of weightlifting?"

Edmund tilted his head at him with an annoyed expression, making Tomen raise his eyebrows higher and challengingly jerked his head forwards. The room was silent for a few moments as the boys let that conversation fizzle out for a bit until they could continue. This happened a lot when they talked.

Edmund closed his eyes and swiped his forehead to wipe off more sweat. His sweater started to stick to his skin uncomfortably, heat radiated off of him as he began to fan himself by lifting his shirt up and down to get some air flowing. He was thankful that he had put on shorts earlier.

Tomen saw his discomfort, his lips pressed together as he took another glance at the painting with a more interested look. "Maybe...I don't know. It could mean a lot of things. Maybe it's something that is yet to come? Or something that's already happened?"

The wall in front of the Carmichael brothers was covered in a multitude of mostly reds, scratched onto the wall, displaying fingerprints and hand marks in a violent manner. The painting displayed a blue cup or bowl in the center, emitting from it was giant red flames, almost extending it the ceiling and to the end of each end of the wall. Faces were scratching into all over the flames with yellow and blue pant, their expressions twisted into an eternal horror as they screamed soundlessly.

And in the center, was one face, with its mouth unhinged like a snake but instead of teeth, they were replaced with long white strokes that resembled sharp fangs. Nevertheless, besides the teeth and the jaw, the face was beautiful: smooth skin, nice and smooth hair, and charming brown toned eyes. But all those features was clouded by the aggressive nature of the rest of the painting. Nothing about the painting seemed pleasant or promising, it looked more like a threat, a warning.

"Whatever the hell it is," Tomen started, "Its pretty damn ugly."

"Tomen get the hell out of my room."

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top