Severin's POV *new POV~ wiggles eyebrows*
"So, your cousin," Aaron started, sitting with his legs crossed across from Emery on his bed, "I've deduced that he's a homophobic bully. Am I correct?"
Emery nodded, picking at his fingernails.
They were both treading on a sensitive subject: how to solve Emery's cousin-problem. Being me, I hated the guy's guts, and I didn't even know who he was. That's how it was with me...a constant simmer of rage, ready to boil. I had an inkling on what type of bully this guy was- someone who doesn't care who his victim is. Who only acted upon judgment and belief.
"And he's Christian?" Aaron asked skeptically. I was a bit wary too. Some people believe strongly in their beliefs, but usually, never turn to such violence as this guy had.
"He claims to be Christain," Emery huffed, "But I just think he's holding up a mask of innocence- or maybe he just wants an excuse to beat up kids. He even killed one or two people once. But he was still young, and he's a little mentally ill, plus his parents are extremely rich...so he gets out of trouble pretty easily."
If blood still flew through my veins, it would have been boiling. I could see Aaron's eyes darken, and I knew he was thinking about what happened to me. I hated when people didn't get what they deserved, good or bad. Emery, as sweet and kind as he was, deserved Aaron. Not some snooty, rich, deadly homophobe walking in his house's hallways.
"So what are his strengths and weaknesses?" Aaron asked, getting all the information I needed to strangle the little...well, I had plenty of words to describe the man, but none should be heard by listening ears. I had gotten into the habit of censoring my bad mouth for Aaron, the little goody-two-shoes, and even in my death it never changed.
"Obviously, he's rich, and he's experienced. He's also very strong, fights dirty, and has no sympathy, " Emery listed off. Aaron bit his lip.
"Okay, and weaknesses?"
"If I knew his weaknesses, I would have exploited them by now," Emery sighed, blushing as his eyes caught Aaron's hand. I could tell by his body language that he wanted to hold Aaron's hand badly. I didn't blame him.
"Severus, are you taking notes?" Aaron asked into the air. He was looking into a direction he thought I was in, but instead, I was hovering behind him. I stayed silent. After all, that's all I could do.
Aaron was determined for me to beat this man up. I didn't know if he realized that he was now strong enough to beat bullies up himself, but I didn't care either way. If it made Aaron happy, it made me happy. And I would delightedly give this scum what he deserved. I wanted to make him feel the pain that he gave Emery. I wanted to see his eyes fill with the same fear as his victims. I wanted to watch him crumble from the hands of those he despised most.
Maybe it was a little sadistic, but in my eyes, it was justice.
He reminded me of those schoolboys in Italy, who'd boast about being straight. They wouldn't care if others around them heard. They would loudly tell stories about how they watched gay porn, and laughed at the poor sub, calling him rude, explicit names. Of how they would launch a protest against the gays during American gay pride month, just to see how many people they could anger. Those boys who spoke that dreaded word every 5-seconds, as if they never learned another word since birth. It was probably true, seeing as how their stupidity blinded them from what was coming.
During my last day in Italy, I remember losing my anger for the first time. My cord snapped, my last nerve died, my fury burned with a raging fire. I knew I was never going to see them again, yet I was sick of their nasty "games." I loathed what they found humor in.
And, since that day, that awful word has been a trigger to my anger. Two syllables, and I'm ready to shoot a bullet. And, eventually, that word led me to my death.
As I zoned back into the real world, I noticed Aaron and Emery were still talking. Sometimes they would stay on topic, and other times they would accidentally switch the subject. I didn't mind. I wanted them to get to know each other better.
The conversation was pretty peaceful, and I had gotten my fair share of information. When suddenly, everything went downhill.
"So," Aaron asked, "I forgot to ask you what your cousin's name is. I'm pretty sure that's important to know."
"You think?" Emery asked, with a playful smile, "Anyway, his name is Silas."
Aaron froze; his eyes darkened further. He didn't seem to breathe, and my unseen eyes narrowed. That name was tainted with horrors.
"Silas-who? What's his last name?" Aaron asked, his voice stretched, his gaze deadly.
"Are you okay?" Emery asked with concern, "Did I say something that-"
"What's his last name?" Aaron repeated, but this time, more demanding. His voice had gone lower, his eye's more nonsensical as he repeated his question.
"McCallister," Emery said meekly, and that's when I knew Aaron would snap. I set a comforting hand onto his shoulder to calm him down, but it seemed as if my gesture of comfort just reminded him that I was dead because of that man.
"Where does he live?" Aaron growled, not looking at me, but into the air as if he was imagining killing Silas McCallister in revenge.
"Aaron, what's going on?" Emery asked worriedly, "Why are you-"
"WHERE DOES HE LIVE?" Aaron boomed, making Emery jump with fear. I pinched Aaron's arm in warning to calm down, but he acted as if he didn't feel it.
"Well, I-I'm not sure now. He's lived in lots of places. His family has moved around a lot because of his father's job...I know he's lived in Pennsylvania, California, South Carolina, and...I think Texas too-"
Aaron's eyes flashed with hurt, anger, and revenge. The man who's been tormenting Emery was likely the man who murdered me. Who turned Aaron into the man he was today. Tears welled up in Aaron's eyes, and Aaron wiped them quickly away. Without one glance at Emery, he marched out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Meanwhile, Emery sat on the bed, white as a sheet, with concerned and confused eyes.
I grabbed the pen and notepad that sat on Aaron's nightstand, and Emery watched as I wrote an explanation. I threw the notepad in front of Emery, and the kid picked it up warily.
I watched as he slowly read my note:
Silas McCallister was my murderer.
~{()}~
(THIRD PERSON POV)
Silas sat on the roof of a building with his hood up, surveying the city of New York from above. Though it was a bit windy, Silas had sat on the ledge, watching his legs dangle in the air. He wasn't afraid of death, not at this point in his life. All thoughts in his mind were trained on revenge and anger, not caution.
Silas fled after destroying Emery's room- his flower. He knew that Emery would be upset when he came back to see it in pieces. He wasn't so sadistic to watch Emery sob over his lost treasure. He loved hurting his cousin physically, but hurting him emotionally wasn't something he enjoyed witnessing. Even if he couldn't help but do it.
Silas McCallister had it in his mind that his anger was all Emery's fault. That Emery's single act ruined Silas's life. But the bully knew that Emery had no idea what he had done, and it angered him. His cousin went around, oblivious to his hurting, living his life to the fullest.
Sure, he knew that his cousin had a poor family, but at least he had a family that loved him. Emery's brain was full of knowledge and sincerity, and Silas's was just corrupted and broken. Emery never got away with anything, but he didn't have to. He was a perfect child. Silas was most definitely not. All the time he could hear his parents talking about their nieces and nephews as if they were golden children. And him, as if he was some burden upon their lives.
He didn't deny that he was. And he wasn't all that jealous of his cousins for their praise. He just loathed how everyone thought Emery was perfect, when Silas knew that he wasn't. He loathed how Emery got a perfect family, and how he was all alone. He hated that, despite how Emery hurt him, he got to live a life of peace.
So he took out his anger on everyone like him. Everyone who was gay. Everyone who looked pale and weak. Small and cutesy. And those he couldn't bully, he killed.
Every time he saw Emery, he would torture him. Make him feel the pain he felt in his heart. Make him feel as if he was totally and utterly alone, just like Silas.
Because, in the end, all Silas wanted was for Emery to feel his pain.
Silas picked up a crumb off the ledge of the building and threw it harshly down at the people down below. He kind of hoped it would hit someone, make someone's day awful, just like every day of his life. He hoped, when he threw that rock, that all his anger dispersed. That he couldn't feel it anymore. But, alas, the rage was still there when he watched it sail out of sight.
He just wanted the anger to go away. He wanted to be happy for once.
IED, is what they said when he was younger, Intermittent Explosive Disorder. It could be caused by genetics, damage in the brain, or bad experiences when he was younger. I'd keep an eye on him, if I were you. He could hurt himself, or others, if something triggers his anger. And he won't be able to control it.
Silas refused to believe there was something wrong with him. He refused to look at his parent's upset and concerned faces. He refused to accept that he had IED.
And he still did as he sat on top of that building.
It's all Emery's fault that I'm angry, he reasoned, All Emery's fault.
He thought of killing Emery multiple times. No more Emery. No more anger.
But he still held on to how it once was.
And he couldn't let go.
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