The McKay Boys

34| parastin•

"Sister, sister, please know that I'm sorry, I wish you could've stopped me from falling off the hill. Only sweet until it all goes sour but life is what you make it. Until it gets too real."

Chapter Theme Song: 'Alive' by Khalid.

Warning: Chapter contains gore. May be disturbing to some readers. None of which is condoned by me and all for the purpose of fiction.

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Khalil

I got home when the air grew more moist, and the sun was slowly slipping behind its bluish-green duvet, and my mother greeted me at the door with only a little blood left in her face as though a minute over and she'd be as pale as a ghost. I wasn't in for the rebuke and she must have noticed since she only sent me off to my room with a: Hurry and get dressed, the guests will arrive shortly.

And I was growing wear and tear of the constant facade of us being healthy people in a healthy family, but half the people who laid their 'precious' time aside to dine with us on late weekend evenings, was, in fact, the same thing. But I was growing weakish of watching men and women with their pinkies stuck out and their backs broad and stiff, littering my household like ants crawling to spilled honey, but oh, there was no honey here, nothing sweet at all, but raw, stinking blood and bitter-salt tears.

I went to my room with trembling fingers. I had been close to squeezing the air from the girl's throat who had loved me since I first had a wet dream, and though it could have made me more uneasy, I still felt a prick of something. Guilt? Remorse? Maybe not those but something...something was in the back of my mind. Amelia. Would she have severed me for good had she come to learn I had directly killed someone with my own hands and not with my brain this time?

See, unlike my brother Kanan, matters of destruction didn't make me smirk, but had often caused my face to twist at the sides with this inkling at the back of my mind saying: You're just like your brother. I didn't want to be like Kanan, but it felt like I had no control over the air of thick black clogging that area in me I desperately tried to keep at bay.

Kanan could murder with a grin across his innocent-looking face. But me...I couldn't handle doing so with my own two hands. What I was good at was initiation. Then my brothers would jump on the boat as they never mind getting trapped at sea, but I was afraid of the water so I'd stay on land and watch from afar as they drove spears into fishes and ripped the heads of scavengers. Then when they returned, bloody, I'd pretend the sight of them didn't cause my face to twitch. But it'd be a short moment before the relief of it all sank in.

It was, admittedly, the same thing with Jacob Whitaker. That freckled-faced boy that didn't want to leave Amelia alone, lingering outside the afterworld with no abiding place. He wasn't going to have her. I'd sent out the order for a reason. But then Kanan saying Amelia had begged for his death had thrown me off just a little.

As I stood in front of the mirror, fixing the top button of my shirt with shaking hands, I felt something...a presence. And the fear that had often visited me when I was younger and even then returned.

My fingers stilled on my necktie, and my eyes slid up in the mirror to see Kanan standing in the doorway to my room. At the first glimpse of his silhouette, garbed in his full black suit, his eyes appeared pitch-black, lips tightly pressed together. But then his smile, crooked and confident, fell over his features like untangling a pretty curtain, and his hands found his pockets.

"Where were you just now?"

Mental tapes of Giselle's naked chest and when I had sat over her squirming figure flashed before me, and I looked away, my fingers slipping off the tie as though I'd forgotten how to fix it.