It was vacuous.
Stephano's eyes dilated, brimmed with tears as images of his older sibling being beaten to near death passed by his vision.
He wasn't here.
He rose, glancing around the room they shared, hoping that his brother was simply hiding from their abusive parents. Hoping that his brother was simply pulling the younger one's legs in a joking manner.
Please don't leave. . .
The breeze silently ruffled the large curtains, coming from the window that was left slightly ajar, catching the young male's searching eyes. He remembered pleading. . . begging. . . for his brother not to leave.
For his brother not to leave him alone.
He left while the golden form was slumbering, running out into the icy sheets of water that fell from the gloomy sky above.
The note. . .
It caught his attention as quick as the window did, scrambling over to the small slip of paper and clutching it closely to his form, crinkling some parts between his small fingers. Words and sentences were scratched off in some areas, as if the writer had difficulty writing it.
Dear Brother. . .
I can't take it anymore Steph.
The cuts. . . They burn so much.
I need to leave. . . I need a break.
Please. . .
Please don't think I'm leaving because of you.
I forbid it. . . Just please. . .Make me a promise. Something you won't forget.
Please. . . Don't let mother and father get to you. . . They inflicted the pain on me because I'm not perfect. . .
We'll meet again soon. . . I promise.
Love from your older brother,
As he read the note, heavy tears rolled down his cheeks silently, afraid they might hear him. He made his way over to his messy golden bed, folding the sheets in a neat corner before crawling over to the silver bed and climbing underneath the sheets, trying to get back to sleep.
It wasn't the same.
Because Stephano knew what Gonzales had been through his whole life up to that point, up to when before he left. Stephano knew that his brother was tired of being constantly abused, constantly bleeding, constantly crying. He knew that Gonzales couldn't handle the abuse from their parents anymore, which is what led him to running away.
There were shouts heard from the other room, loud, drunken, angry shouts. Footsteps pounded on the wooden floors that creaked loudly in pain, protesting as they were stepped upon. The door flung open, streaming in the light from the lit candles that were beyond the door's frame. Two drunken forms came and grabbed the young golden boy, tearing him from the warmth of his older brother's bed. They hacked out disturbing coughs and smelled heavily of alcohol as they yelled at the innocent male, questioning where the silver twin went. Stephano couldn't reply, he was terrified and shocked with fear, which angered the two forms even more. The taller of the two grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out of the room, making the other form follow angrily.
But no matter how far they went, they couldn't cover the pleas from Stephano as he cried out in pain, wishing his brother would be there to come rescue him.
But he knew better.
He knew Gonzales wasn't coming back home. Ever.
No matter how much Stephano begged.
It wasn't the bone chilling feel of a nightmare that can grasp you tightly, dragging you away in between it's evil clutches. . . It was Gonzales' life, it was worse than any living nightmare.