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Rated: E · Draft · Emotional · #1545560
Part of a novel, far from done, don't think this is the entire story.
         “Go home.”  The teacher’s voice echoed down the almost-empty halls.
         Stephen winced at the harsh sound that cut through the air.  He closed his eyes and leaned harder on his twin.  Micheal put his arm over his shoulders.
         “Come on,” he said gently, lifting himself and his brother from the ground.  Slowly, Stephen pushed himself up and began a slow, somber march down the hall.  Micheal walked closer to his side, adding support to the unsteady frame.  Slowly the pair went on, tall thin frames silhouetted against the harsh glare of the sun through the outside doors.
         “Go home or I will contact your parents.”  Again the silence was broken by the shrill call of the teacher.
         At this outburst, Stephen’s sallow complexion grew paler and he sped his walk, breaking free of his brother’s stride.  Micheal we quick to regain his spot at his brother’s side, and the two pushed through the doors to the outside world.
         Once out of the school, both hesitated, unsure of what to do next.  Micheal closed his eyes and shivered.  Slowly, he turned right and took a step.
         “No.”  The voice was thin and silent.  Micheal turned back and looked at Stephen.
         “No.”  He shook his head, his wide eyes full of fear.  “Not yet.  Please, not yet.”
         Micheal stood for a moment, then nodded.  He turned back and walked toward his brother.
         “Alright.  But where-“
         “Anywhere.  I don’t care.  It doesn’t matter where.  I just don’t want to…” He broke off and stared at the ground.  He shuffled a little, then looked up at Micheal.”
         “Come on.”  Micheal walked back to his brother, taking his backpack from him.  Shouldering the pack, he started off in the opposite direction.  Stephen stood a moment, glanced back, then hurried to join him.
         The pair walked in silence.  Neither knew what to say.  Neither wanted to speak.  The two walked on.  An hour later, Stephen fell.  His hands clutched the grass as though anything less than a total control of his ground meant certain death.  Micheal closed his eyes.  Stephen rolled slowly to his side and curled himself up.  Micheal stared; Stephen was shaking.  Shoulders, chest, arms… his face was wet and contorted.  Micheal knelt by him, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder.  His mouth opened; a small gasp escaped, but nothing more.  The silence lasted an eternity.
         Stephen’s face smoothed but didn’t dry.  Micheal stared at the sky as if searching for a sign.  Eventually Stephen forced himself up, pushing Micheal’s hand away.  Micheal looked up at him, trying to find reason or meaning.  Stephen turned away, gathered his discarded backpack, and headed back toward the school.  Toward home.
         Micheal caught up with him.  “Let me take it.”  He reached for the bag.  Stephen flung himself around to face Micheal.  He glared, turned, and kept walking.  Micheal stopped.  “I’m sorry.”  It was a small voice that carried those words; tired confused, broken.
         “Shut up.”  Stephen’s voice was sharp, driving.  Micheal flinched.  “What do you want?  What?  If you want me to say it I will!”
         Micheal was silent.
         “You’re stronger than me.  There, satisfied?”  Stephen’s voice rose in volume and pitch.  “I’m weak.  I’m useless.  I’m nothing; I know!  I’m holding you back.”  His eyes flooded with emotion and tears.  Micheal stared blankly over his brother’s shoulder, arms hanging limp from slumped shoulders.
         “I’m the reason you haven’t left.  I’m your problem.”  His voice dropped.  “I’m the problem.”
         They were silent.  Neither one moved for a long time.  Micheal raised his eyes to meet his brother’s.
         “Stop.  Please.  Stop.”  Micheal stared at Stephen.  He glared back, his gaze full of an emotion deeper than hate.  Micheal jerked back, his eyes widening, his breath coming in gasps.  Stephen turned and walked away.
         “Please.  Don’t leave me.”  Micheal’s voice was broken and pleading.  “Please.  I—“
         “No.  You don’t.”  The voice that answered was cold, calculating.  “You know you don’t.  You’ve never needed me, and you never will.”
         “That’s not true!”  His voice had risen to a desperate cry.
         “It is.  You know it is.”  He was shouting, every sound deep and biting.
         “…no.”  A weak plea.
         “You never could stand the fact that I depend on you.  You feel so superior, knowing you could make it alone, whereas I, I can’t.  You never liked me.  You feel guilty.  That’s all.  You’ve never loved me, never actually cared.  You just felt guilty.  Or maybe you just wanted to hold it over my head.  Maybe you just want to make yourself feel better.  You want nothing more than to make yourself better.  You don’t care.  You’re selfish, self-serving, careless…”
         “No.”  It was nothing more than a sobbing whisper.  Micheal fell to his knees, burying his head in his hands.  “No,” he whispered as he shook his head.  “No no no no no.”  He could feel the trail the tears cut from his eyes.  He could hear his own jagged breathing.  He couldn’t feel the earth under him.  He couldn’t think.  He couldn’t speak.
Stephen stepped toward him, slowly picking his way over.  The tears on his face shone in the light of a dying sun.  He reached Micheal and knelt next to him.  His neck bent, his head next to his brother’s, his mouth practically on his ear.  His voice left the realms of humanity, escaping in a snakelike hissing whisper.
         “You’re worse than Her.”
         “NO!”  Micheal screamed, collapsing completely.  Stephen stepped back quickly, avoiding any contact with Micheal’s limp form.  He turned slowly and began to walk away.
         “Don’t leave me,” a hoarse, broken whisper escaped behind him.
         Stephen didn’t turn around, made no indication he heard.
         “Please don’t leave me.”
         He stopped, turned, and looked at Micheal.  He was on his knees, hands digging into the ground.
         “Why shouldn’t I?”  Stephen’s voice was light, soft, but the force of it crushed Micheal to the ground.  Stephen shrugged, turned, and walked away.
         Micheal watched Stephen’s retreating form begin to blur.  He watched as it stopped.  He watched as it crumbled to the ground.  He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch it shaking, shuddering against the sobs the wind carried toward him.
         Slowly, Micheal pushed himself up and began moving warily toward Stephen.
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