mycatangel

I am cursed to daydream of heinous things. Often these things find me against my will, but, sometimes, I allow myself to wander into fantasy. Long lingers in my mind the imagery of my death at Rin’s hands. I am pinned to the ground underneath him, too weak to move, and I feel sharp claws pierce my skin as he wraps his hands very, very tightly around my neck. I stare up at him through my haze, and I see his eyes blown wide with unbridled fury. It’s terrifying, and it’s raw, but comfort also lies in the justice of such a demise—for what better way is there for me to go than at the hands of such a perfect person whom I have failed to protect and to become? I wonder what would happen to him after I’m gone. Would my final breath snap him out of his rage? Would he wear raw his throat and lungs in screams of agony? Would he tear himself apart from the inside out in a bout of guilt? Believe me, brother—I understand the feeling.

This exact scenario plays through my mind several times a day. The way that it goes remains fairly consistent. Every day I die violently, and sometimes he does too. We can’t help it—from the very beginning we’ve been doomed by blood and circumstance. Over a lifetime I’ve become ever familiar with my twin, with his every mannerism and imperfection, and with the way that his spilled organs grotesquely pulsate against the ground. Sometimes it makes me want to kill myself, and although it is impossible for me to do so (by curse of parasite’s protection), I rest assured knowing that my brother can be the one to take the honor, for he can always do what I cannot. My body cannot will into existence my promise to protect him, nor can my words, so is he not better off without a traitor sleeping directly across the room?

I don’t speak of these things to him, not to anyone else nor to myself, for the spoken word is ever fatal. I must tread carefully throughout the average conversation, concealing that which can truly kill us. Indeed, I do have power, but not the kind that I so crave. Of what worth is it to be able to speak things into existence if I cannot actually use it to save anyone? Despite this, I remain persistent still. Over and over I will repeat my promise of protection. Still, I kill my brother every single day, but through my words perhaps I can find a compromise. It’s never worked before, but one of these days it must be sure to.

For now, Rin’s corpse is frozen in time within my mind, and next to it I always lie there shaking.

His every move makes me anxious beyond belief. He is clumsy and foolish, always eager to throw himself in danger’s way. My brother wants to save everyone; I think that he shouldn’t have to. Sometimes I wish that he’d never found this dangerous ambition. Sometimes I wish that he wasn’t so kind.

Shura tells me that I worry about Rin too much, that I’m too controlling, but she has yet to see me at my worst. She says that I might as well have Rin locked in a cage, and, indeed, the temptation is ever familiar to me. Do you want to see me at my worst? I’ll bind him and me together at the wrists. Maybe I’ll throw us off the roof. The metal of a gun chills my fingers and speaks of destiny. I don’t know why we’re here. Maybe my brother and I were born to die, but I refuse to lose him, not to any monster nor to any sanction. If he cannot live forever, then I must ensure that his very demise will be mine. He needn’t worry about being lonely in any afterlife, though, as I’ll be sure to join him right after.

Until then, the metal of the cage chills Rin’s hands and heart. The gun is a heavy burden in my hand. They speak of destiny, still. As I stand guard at my brother’s cage, silently looking back at him, my promise to our father echoes in my mind. I was a very lost child back then, eager to find purpose in being brave and strong, to be able to protect my savior of a brother.

Rest assured, if I cannot find certainty in how and why we came into this world, then I will at least find certainty in our departure.

Can you hear me screaming in your skull? Do my thoughts reach out and meet yours somewhere along the paths linking our minds? Your voice haunts me all the time. We share so many things; do we share the powers within my mind, too? Do you want to control the world with me? The desire haunts me all the time. If one of us dies, will the other go too? I try not to think about it too much. But, if you really can hear (and see and feel) the horrors of my mind, I think that they’re sure to kill you. It’s hard to live like this, but I try to keep walking forward; yet I can never seem to match your footsteps. Why are we so different? Why am I so inferior? Do you hate me? I don’t know if the words of yours that I hear in my head are real. Still, I feel a constant tension between us, as if we’re engaged in a perpetual mental battle. I feel like we scream at each other as we sit quietly at our desks. Everything is so loud. I don't know what's real anymore. I can't even bring myself to truly hate you. How pathetic is that? Why can't I hate the very person who walks freely in my mind, corrupting everything in sight? Why are you so dangerous? Why are you so loud?

Perhaps I long for something of a telepathic connection so that I can live vicariously through you. I want to experience being you. I need to know what it’s like to be strong, to be powerful, to be perfect, even if for a moment. I cannot live as myself anymore. I want to be free, yet I keep shackling myself to you. I don’t know of any other way to live. Can I walk into your mind and stay in there forever? I’ll try not to scream too loudly.