Young Writers Society

Skrain looked out the window from his room on the second floor of his house, glaring defiantly out at the rest of the world that was always mocking him with how much happier it was than he. Everyone down there was perfectly fine, without a care in the world. Kids running around playing tag, their parents watching in amusement from the sidelines, sitting on a park bench. Stupid little cheerful birds singing to each other. Neighbors greeting one another with friendly waves. Tightening his hands into angry fists, the nineteen-year-old curled his lips into a cold sneer, his grey eyes narrowing more and more until they were just furious slits. Everything and everyone was either totally ignorant of him, or had let him down, or couldn't care less about whether he lived or died....wasn't that the truth? After all, his jerk of a father was no longer around. His younger brother by one year wasn't around much either. Because he was always busy spending time with HER.

Oh yes. She was one of the people he hated most, the resentful teenager thought to himself. Everything had been so simple when they first met, at that art fair by the docks not far from his house. She had such a simple name, too - Claire. A name like that practically screamed "I have more artistic talent than you." And talent was something Claire did not fall short of.

Her booth had been the only one he had bothered to stop at. Silo had dragged him along that morning to go to the fair, both because their mother wouldn't allow him to run off alone for whatever reason and also because he was just interested in boring things like ancient dead sea scrolls and decaying artifacts and dull paintings, in Skrain's opinion. So while his little brother ran around like a kid in a candy store bargaining with the local artists, Skrain walked off in search of some kind of alleviation to his incredible disinterest in the whole thing, not really expecting to find anything that would work.

He had been turning his head absentmindedly, not paying attention, when he ran smack into an art easel almost as tall as he was. Horrified, he spun around as it started to fall, and the painting with it. Relying on his reflexes his hand shot out and grabbed both easel and painting, steadying them with a relieved sigh that it hadn't been damaged. Then he would have had to pay for it, he scoffed.

"That was a close one," a girl with light brown shoulder length hair and green eyes chuckled, standing behind the booth. Obviously, she was the one who had done the painting he'd nearly knocked over. She didn't look angry, though - her eyes merely sparkled with playful curiosity.

Skrain gulped, standing up straight and clearing his throat awkwardly.

"You're....not a bad artist," the words tumbled out, then he wished he was somewhere private so he could beat his head against a brick wall a few times for how stupid he just sounded.

"Well, thanks," she said, smiling warmly. "I'm Claire, by the way."

Something unexpected started rising up inside Skrain then - a sudden weak feeling in his knees that made him suddenly want to lie down. No girl had ever looked at him that way before.

"I'm Skrain," he said, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. "...Do you-"

Before he could finish, however, Silo picked that particular moment to run up and join him, looking pleased with himself and carrying an armful of canvases all splashed with various colors and styles. Skrain could have punched him for his horrible timing.

"Frate mai mare!" Silo grinned, "Look at this! Aren't they great?"

"...Amazing...." Skrain replied through grit teeth. Turning back to the artist he said with a sigh, "This is my brother, Silo."

She smiled at him as well. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," said Silo, smiling politely. Then he gave his brother a rather mischievous look when the artist turned around to rearrange some paintings, clearly insinuating something.

Skrain scowled at him and looked away.

And that had been the start of it all.

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Everything after that went by so fast. More and more often, Skrain found himself going down to the docks where she was always painting. She was so easy to talk to, always smiling that warm smile and making him feel like there was no wrong thing to say in her presence. Sometimes he would go early to make sure he caught her there the second she arrived, just to have a few minutes of extra time with her.

Then one day, he made the fatal mistake of bringing her home.

Two weeks went by after that day. Just two weeks...that was all. But obviously, that was more than enough time for her to change her mind. More than enough time for his brother to go behind his back and betray him. More than enough...

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Pulling himself out of the memory, and all the wounds it reopened, Skrain forced himself back into reality. Looking out the window, as he had been five minutes ago.

His fists were still clenched; he realized, and his nails were biting into his palms. He relaxed them a bit, letting out a quiet sigh of remembrance and wanting to go back to the way thing used to be. If he had never met her, would things be different? Would he and his brother still be able to hold a normal conversation without biting off the other's head?

"....No," he mused, clenching his fists once more twice as tightly as a fresh wave of anger roared over him and he watched his treacherous brother walk through the front door. How many things he wanted to say to him. How many insults and obscenities and hurtful words...

And it looked like he was going to get his chance, because Silo hesitantly pushed open the door to his room and shut it silently behind him.

There was silence for a moment or two. Then...

"Skrain...we need to talk."

"Oh," the elder of the two laughed, glaring over his shoulder, "You want to talk, do you, brother?"

Silo looked pleading, almost apologetic. "You know I would never hurt you intentionally. Things just happened....I couldn't help it! Skrain, I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't MEAN to! You didn't MEAN to take everything from me! Things happen, it was an accident! THAT'S your excuse?!"

"No! I'm not making excuses, it's the truth! I didn't want things to be this way-"

Skrain laughed again, a cold and unfeeling sound. "Of course not! It's not your fault, is it? It's all her fault for changing her mind. She's the real traitor here, right?"

Something that rarely showed came over Silo's voice: anger. "Leave her out of this!"

"Why should I!" Skrain shouted, turning on him. Subconsciously he couldn't help thinking how good it felt to be shouting, taking out his frustrations on the person whom he despised the most. His voice kept rising in level as he continued: "She's as much a part of this as you are! You're BOTH part of the problem! All these years I've been looking out for you and this is how you repay me? This is what I get in return??"

"That's not what this is about, and you know it," Silo said defiantly, remaining surprisingly calm despite the intensity of the argument. "...Come on, why can't you just let this go? There'll be other girls..."

"Not. Like. Her."

Silo bit his lip sadly, watching his brother turn around to glare out at the world through the window again. More than anything he wanted to know the right words to say, the ones to make his anger disappear and make everything right again. But he was only human, and had no idea what he could possibly say or do.

"....Do you hate me?" he asked meekly, staring at the floor.

"Yes," said his brother, not even looking at him. "I hate you."

Silence.

"Skrain......I'm-"

"Sorry? One day I'll make you sorry. One day I'll make sure you feel as much pain as I do now, only I'll make it last the rest of your miserable life."

Silo had felt a lot of pain before. He'd felt it when he broke his arm one summer trying to impress his friends. He'd felt it when his father had taken off and left his wife and two sons on their own without even a backward glance. But not even those times put together equaled the pain those few sentences spoken with hatred that his own brother had just said against him.

"Get out. I'm leaving, and from now on I never want to see you again."

Eyes widening, Silo stepped back even further in horrible shock. "B-brother!-"

"I said get OUT!!"

There was nothing more he could say. Wincing as if Skrain had just punched him, Silo turned and ran out of the room as a single tear that was full of both helplessness and despair rolled down his cheek.

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Six years later, Skrain looked out the window of his room on the seventh floor of his new home. The same anger and hatred were reflected in his eyes as he stared out at the nothingness. No longer were there people down below mocking him with their happiness. He blinked once, ending the memories from his distant past. Although he remembered everything, his brother did not. But that did not diminish any of the rage he still felt towards him. His most hated enemy. And now, he had the tools to destroy that hated enemy.

"I will find and kill you, 'frate mai mic'. I swear that on the life that was once mine that you crushed."

When he swore something, he meant it. The satisfaction of seeing his brother's dying breath was all that he wanted.

There was nothing more for him to live for.