Are we what we think we are?

Why is my mind at war?

Eddy had softly kissed Brett's hands.

And Brett could still feel it. He could feel the pair of lips, against his hand. The soft good bye. The love. The warmth. He knew it meant "I might never come back" but he could still hope. Hope: a deadly parasite. A rat in the house. Always shuffling about and never up to any good.

"Why must I hurt this way?" Brett cried, as he curled himself up in a ball. He could feel the bottom of his pants getting wet. He could smell the horrible smell of that, that thing, on the muddy ground. A smell he'd only once smelt. When he'd following his brother's lifeless body.

Loud screams rang in the background. Symphonies of "No!"s and "Don't!"s hollering. He cried and cried and cried. He spoke the same chant through his hiccups. "I'm sorry Eddy, I love you." A song on repeat.

A caged parrot.

He held his knees up to his chin, wanting to be as far away from everything as possible.

Soon he felt a hand on his neck, and he was pulled up. "No, no, no," He pleaded. "No please no, no, no!!" He shouted. He was forced on his knees with his head down. It was hellish.

All he could think of was Eddy. His smile, his hands, his smooth voice, his aura. His promises, his vows, his... cheesy remarks. All the fails attempts as flirting, cooking, playing the woodwinds. All the perfected violin concertos, aims at the bull's eyes and intricate security system plannings.

"You'll be mine forever, won't you?" Brett said, hands latched around Eddy's neck. "Hm-mm." Eddy kissed Brett's neck. "So you're gonna be my accompanist forever!" Eddy gasped, "I'm a violinist!" Brett giggled. "But you'll be my accompanist." Eddy chuckled in return, "Whatever will make you happy baby." Brett smiled and said:

"You are gonna play me a piano piece every time I cry, right?"

The gun cocked against Brett's head. He felt the nuzzle against his hair. The blood on his ankle was cold and dry now.

The trigger was pulled and soon the last man standing, in the area, was dead.