The McKay Boys

32| marcid•

"Don't talk to me like I don't know what you're feeling. Cause I was there with you back in the beginning."

Chapter Theme Song: 'Lost In The Moment' by NF.

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Khalil

Amelia's rump crushed my groin as she tried to sink the knife between my eyelids. I was confused and terrified all at the same time. My hand was trembling from the force of keeping her wrist in place as I stared cross-eyed at the pointed object.

What the fuck was she doing?

Veins bulged in my neck as I reached up with my other hand and gripped the blade, grimacing when it sliced through my palm, inflicting a sting of pain.

"Amelia! Stop!"

I looked up into her empty, baggy eyes, the dark circles around them telling me that she wasn't in her right mind. Something was definitely wrong with her.

"Amelia! Amelia..." I wasn't yelling too loud because the last thing I wanted was my mother bursting the doors and seeing us like this. Her on top of me with her nightie ridden all the way up her legs. This was not something anyone should see. They'd have surely taken her away from me. Lock her up somewhere or something because she wasn't being herself at all.

Her long, dark hair created a curtain on either side of her, and in a sense she had resembled that creepy girl in one of Kanan's most favoured movies: The Grudge.

"Amelia, come on..." I breathed, losing hope at this point. She had suddenly accumulated this weird strength, and for a moment, I wondered if she was possessed. Perhaps by that boy we'd...

I flashed my head and applied more pressure. Blood seeped at the corner of the knife, dripping onto my eye, my cheek, my nose. I blinked back the burn, my face contorting in pain.

And then her forehead puckered with small lines, and emotions unveiled on her pale features. She blinked slowly at the sight of my bloodied face.

I stared into her eyes as they regained their life and vigour and responsiveness, and I froze, my mouth falling apart. What-what just happened?

A whimper came from her as I dragged the knife from between her fingers and threw it across the room. I jolted upright and tried to reach out for her, but she crawled away, not caring that she was wearing a dress as she drew her knees up to her chest, revealing everything underneath her clothes. Not the point.

"Amelia..." I crawled closer and she shook her head frantically, burying her face between quivering knees. "Amelia, it's okay."

A soft cry came from her, and my heart smashed into unidentifiable pieces. What had I done to her? What had we done to her?

"I am so sorry, I am so sorry. I am so sorry."

"Stop." I gripped her flimsy arm, noticing how frail it felt, and blinked back the sting in my eyes.

"I am so sorry..." She was shaking as though she was cold. "I thought you were him; I am so sorry, Khalil."

"Him who?" I lifted her arms and she brought wet face up to look at me. Pink lips quivered as teardrops slid down them. "Who? J-Jacob?"

She nodded. "I thought you were him. I am so sorry. I don't know—I don't know why I did that." She shook her head rapidly. "I would never hurt you. I would never hurt you, Khalil."

"It's okay, Amelia; I know." I wrapped my arms around her, my body shaking with hers. "I know you would never."

Jesus. She was sick. Bad.