Chelsea Smile (mature boyxboy twincest)

Smile, Chapter 8

{ I'll upload my other stories some time this week. Uploads will probably be a little slower cause I'm going back to college tomorrow

If you like crazy ass psychos who kill, enjoy this one }

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I ran into the house, my lip quivering and my head spinning. I was shaking like fuck, I just needed Mikey to hold me. I needed him to hold me as I cried myself to sleep. I just..I couldn't believe it. Tom wasn't exactly a good person..but he didn't..he didn't deserve this.

"Mikey?" I called out as I stepped into our bedroom. He was kneeling down on the floor, eyes staring up at me like he was a little kid. Rain covered his body and ran down his face in a way that made it seem like he was crying. I was going to run over to him, but then I looked at his hands. 

In his hands, he held a bloody scythe.

No. Oh God, please no.

-

{ 24 Hours Earlier }

I was staring in the mirror, looking at my face. It was a disgusting face. I hated it. I wanted a new one, my old one. I don't know what I did, to deserve this. Maybe I just took my life for granted. I was always sulking around for no reason, so God gave me a never ending smile.

Yeah, that's right. I deserved it.

Thing is, the scar was fading a bit. The stitches were out, the blood red lines were disappaering. It didn't feel the same. I couldn't handle it disappearing. Mikey was always putting bio oil on it so it wouldn't scar as bad. I couldn't let that happen though. If I deserved it so much, then I should never let it go.

So I picked up the scythe, and I positioned it on the corner of my lip. I was already high on painkillers, I wouldn't feel much of the pain. It was gonna be ok. I had to keep telling myself that. It was all gonna be ok.

I told that to myself as I slit my face.

-

{ Mikey }

Alex was whimpering. I wanted so badly to get up out of bed and hold him so tight he'd know that nobody was ever going to hurt him again, but Dad beat me to it. He'd stayed with Alex, and now he was there to comfort him. That was my job.

"It's ok," Dad said quietly. I risked a glance to see him stroking Alex's hair, just like I usually did. Ugh, it made me want to fucking kill him. I was the one who was supposed to take care of him. It was my responsibility. And at that moment right there, even though I'd been pressuring Dad to take care of Alex for 2 years, I had never hated him more.

-

2 Days Later

I had no fucking idea why I was the one in therapy. I mean, I was perfectly stable. More or less. Ugh, this was just bullshit. Alex had already been in, Mom and Dad had already been in, but now they were making me go in? Clearly they needed to check on who actually was struggling to continue life. Because it sure as hell was not me.

"How are you dealing with what happened to your brother?"

I hate myself for it. I know it's my fault but no one admits it. I'm the reason by brother got taken away. It's my fault and I will never forgive myself for it.

"It was 2 freaking years ago. I'm over it,"

"Your parents seem to think that you blame it on yourself?"