Odion would’ve killed him a long time ago if it wasn’t against the law to murder your twin brother. It seemed only fair he take Apollo’s life in return, given what that piece of shit had done to their biological mother. A life for a life.

Odion darted up the stairs, skipping a stair with each step, coming up toward their closed bedroom door in the hallway. Even with the door closed he could feel Apollo’s monstrous energy oozing from the room, causing a tingling itch to spread across his arms and back. Such creatures had no place in this world; had no place in his vision for the future for that matter. They were better off dead. Odion shook out his arms and bit down on his tongue, wrinkling his eyes at the darkness that seeped through the crack between the door and floor.

There was a strong hope that Apollo would be dead by the time he peeped inside, his corpse already stiffening from rigor mortis, but perhaps that was more wishful thinking than anything else. Odion carefully turned the knob and poked his head in, watching Apollo’s chest rise and fall with each passing breath, headphones firmly over his ears. He cursed silently to himself, pushing the door all the way open. With the curtains drawn and the dimmed salt lamp resting on Apollo’s work desk casting an orange glow, the room had an ominous dungeon feel, as if he had performed some sort of demonic ritual before falling asleep. The opportunity to slit his throat and be done with it was prime right about now. And to think, he had taken a long hard look at the knives in the kitchen before coming upstairs, arguing with himself over which one he’d use. Had he just disposed of him, balance and order would’ve been restored and the world would’ve been safe from such an unsightly creature.

When someone was that repulsive, to the point of nausea, the only thing they seem to be good at doing was sleeping, and even then it’s sickening because of the possibility of them waking up. It’d be considered a blessing if his sleep was rendered permanent, ’cause that way it’d be one less monster society had to deal with. Whether Apollo wanted to admit it or not, Odion knew something lurked beneath Apollo’s skin like a faint electrical buzz, and it was often a wonder why Odion seemed to be the only one who could sense that from him. Don’t think for a second I ain’t on to your little charade.

Odion slithered his way inside, studying Apollo carefully for any subtle movements that would’ve thrown a wrench into his plans. With such awful music blasting through his headphones, the chances of him being caught were next to nonexistent. He was the only person in the world who would listen to contemporary classical when falling asleep. No wonder he doesn’t have any friends. Who in their right mind would wanna surround themselves with a kid who listened to classical music as a pastime?

The silly little journal he clutched tightly to his chest was his substitute for any meaningful relationships with real people—not that anyone wanted to befriend him in the first place. In his world, he only knew superheroes and supervillains, some of which he role-played, pretending to be some sort of savior in his magical universe. ‘In the name of justice!’ Apollo would always say to himself whenever in the shower. What a ham roll.

Odion carefully stepped over piles of empty juice boxes, which were scattered around the room from last night, along with an empty cereal bowl that he had conveniently forgotten to wash after he’d finished. Admittedly, their room may have looked untidy, but Mom would’ve forced Apollo to clean up his mess. Sweeping the garbage over toward Apollo’s side of the room was a trick that never seemed to fail. It wouldn’t kill him if the lazy prick did a bit of housework from time to time.

If I was Apollo’s wallet, where would I be? He frisked the room like he was digging for gold, searching every drawer, including the one beside Apollo’s bed. After rummaging around through countless comic books of Black Shadow and Bionic Man, his eyes sparkled like he had hit the jackpot. There you are!

Odion quickly turned his head, eyes growing wide, mouth hanging toward the floor, watching Apollo transition himself to another position. This couldn’t be happening right now. “Go back to sleep!” Odion’s lips mouthed silently, desperately hoping Apollo had kept his eyes closed. Had he woken up, it would’ve been the first time he had been caught sneaking into his drawer—not that it really mattered ’cause if he were to try anything he would’ve slapped the head off his silly ass. Apollo was about the size of a twig: slim, fragile, and easy to break with very minimal effort, provided he didn’t fly into a blinding rage.

Now that Apollo had gone back to sleep, Odion carefully took his wallet and slowly opened the zipper, finding only twenty dollars inside. It may not have been much, but it was twenty dollars he would never have to work for. I’ll be needing this a lot more than you will. He slid the bill into his jeans pocket before returning the wallet to his drawer, eyes firmly locked on Apollo to make sure he hadn’t noticed anything. Mission accomplished.

Sneaking his way toward the door, Odion took a quick glance at Apollo’s journal, lying unguarded now that he’d switched sleeping positions. This is where Apollo stored all of his personal goals, fantasies, and events that accumulated over the course of his pathetic life.

Odion lifted the journal and began skimming through pages until he stopped on one that caught his attention, following his index finger across the lines to make sure he hadn't missed a word:

What's the purpose of life? When I say life, I’m not referring to MY life because I don’t believe one person can claim life as a general whole, but just the initial design and purpose of us being here. I don't think anyone in the Universe knows the answer to that question, but I'm almost certain it doesn’t stand for Living In Fear Eternally. Fear of going outside because of the dangers that lurk around the city. The fear of socializing because people might hold a negative perception of you (which they often do), the fear of falling in love because of the potential heartbreak one may experience, the fear of failure because you don’t want to disappoint the people who believed in you (although no one has ever believed in anything I did except for Ms. Jubilee, rest her soul), and my personal favorite, the fear of becoming something people don’t recognize the monster people think I am.

When I was a child, I always had this notion that my purpose in life was to save the world. Yeah I understand it may sound a little ridiculous, perhaps even a bit ego-centric. Could be the result of reading too many fantastical comics (Bionic Man and Black Shadow I’m looking at you). After all, that seems to be the plot of every typical fable you've read in books or have seen through the television. Hero/heroine overcomes their obstacles to defeat the villain(s), then everyone goes home happy. Only if reality worked that way, but I guess it makes for a good story depending on your tastes, and what your definition of “good” or “bad” really are.

Anyways, growing up I’ve always felt different from everyone else and never felt like I belonged to any particular group. Could be because I’ve always been ostracized by my peers. When you’re constantly shunned by society you start to question if there really is something wrong with you. Ms. Jubilee used to mention something about a great power my brother and I had within ourselves, but I never really understood what she was referring to. It’s my fault for not asking her about it when she was still alive.

After she passed away, everything crumbled before my eyes. Life seemed so pointless and to some degree it still seems pointless. She was the only person that ever cared about me and treated me as if I were an individual. I’ve never received that kind of affection from Ms. Rosenbaum or from Odion for that matter, and he’s supposed to be my brother. To tell you the truth I don’t even think he cared that she passed away because he didn’t shed a single tear at her funeral. I could be wrong but I doubt it. Odion just hates me because to him it’s fun.

I’m only sixteen years young and already feel lost with no sense of purpose or direction in life. A routine day consists of school, listening to music, journaling and being berated by my brother and foster-mother. I’m regarded as the ‘bastard child’ while she looks upon him like he’s the greatest thing since the creation of the digital web. Oh well, I’m quite used to it by now. They say some things never change, besides, I have no right to complain. There are people out there in far worse conditions than my own. To complain about my situation means that a part of me wants to be heard by others, but by doing that, I’m implying that what’s currently going on in my life is of any importance. To express what I mean in mere words is next to impossible so I won’t bother, especially seeing as how my eyes are closing on me.

Odion snorted, resting Apollo’s journal back across his bed. You’re wrong, Apollo, I don’t hate you at all. You mean absolutely nothing to me. Since I can’t kill you, I’ll just make your life so miserable you’ll wanna leave home forever. It’s a crying shame Ms. Jubilee never told you the truth about what you did to our real mother, and how you killed her before coming into this world. I’ll be damned if I allow you to hurt the people I care for again. Odion left and quietly shut the door behind him.