You pull him with you into your room, fully intending to do so. You think he realizes this a bit, and starts to struggle. You slam his back right into the light switch, and he yelps.
You eye the side of your desk, pull him away from the wall, and move to slam his head right into the corner of it. He yanks away, and crashes to the ground - dragging you with him.
Now, real fear shows on Troy's face. "...Bro?"
You slide your other hand onto his throat. "I'm done with your games. I'm done with your friends. I'm done with people liking you more." You tighten your hand, and he starts struggling in earnest, kicking at you and scrabbling at your hand. "I always wanted to be an only son."
"Please... don't..." He struggles, and his hand goes for your face. You take your other hand off his collar and grab his wrists, frowning.
"I don't listen to you, remember?" You say, looking for something else in your room to finish the job faster. You are so pissed. Your head is throbbing. You've never felt so alive.
He probably feels dead. Hah.
His phone rings.
... ... ...
You let go of him, and he gasps, coughing harshly. You wouldn't want people to find out this fast. He fishes out his phone, curling up under you defensively. He ignores their call, and texts them quickly.
"Don't tell them what I did." You say, chillingly calm. Calculating. He pauses, then resumes typing. "Did you hear me?"
"Y-yeah.." He croaks, "I.. w-wasn't.. planning to."
The energy leaves you all at once, and everything seems dull. You sit next to him, keeping hold onto the loop of his jeans. He's not running from you yet.
"Look at me," You murmur. He rolls to you, looking shaken up. Scared.
It looks bad on him.
"Next time, I'm not letting you off this easily," you grunt, and punch him in the stomach. Hard. Troy's breath wooshes out of him, and he doubles over. You drag him, sputtering and coughing, gasping for lost breath, into his room. Easily, you pick him up and drop him off into his bed. "Good night."
You're starting to feel guilty.
You leave him in his room, and close his door quietly.
You are quiet at school. Does everyone feel this way after attempted murder? Well, obviously no sane person attempts to kill their own brother.
Mr. Heincliff comes up to you after class, since only lunch and one extra long testing period is coming up. He's the coolest about kids. You think its because he is a relatively young teacher, but hey. Unfortunately, he is terrifyingly perceptive.
"Is there something wrong, Mark? I noticed you were a lot more reserved today," he asks, all friendly and calm-like. You can see a dangerous look in his eye. He can see your scratches and bruises, mostly because you don't hide them.
"Just a little tired, sir. I'd like to get to lunch, if you don't mind...?" You ask. Even you can tell you sound quieter. Fuck it.
"Not at all. Did Troy come to school today?"
You cringe. "No, sir. He's... Gotten worse."
Mr. Heincliff knows about Troy's situation with the drugs, but he won't do anything about it. You both know he has other things to do. Heincliff really can only handle one of you.
Not his fault.
"Ah. Let's just hope this is the worse of it, and the last," he says coolly. He can tell when you aren't telling the whole truth.
He doesn't press the issue. You silently leave the classroom.
Troy has gotten worse. He is also avoiding you.
You don't blame him.
YOU ARE READING
Seventeen Seconds (And I'm Over It)Teen Fiction
A few months before a big accident, Mark lives his life like he always does: forgets the world and does what he wants. Before he makes the biggest mistake of his life, he was just a teenager trying to live in a world that loved his twin brother, Tr...