The man sat alone in his locked room, darkness consuming the contents of it eeriely as a soft, manic laugh escaped the thin scarlet lips. Before him laid an open journal, its tattered and bloodstained pages smeared in an unkempt scrawl which made up his handwriting. In bright crimson red, its words seemed to waltz of how that wretched scoundrel took away his parents. His wife. His friends. A torn family photograph lied crisply beside the entry, the man he loathed absent, marred from recognition by incessant scratches.
“I hate you,” a whisper breathed silently from between his luscious lips, a sly grin swept across the man’s face.
It was a cold breezy afternoon as Henry left for home after a day of lessons. He was mulling through what he had learnt in school. He was blessed with a youthful complexion, his boyish charm the envy of the campus girls. Even so, he was always outdone by his younger brother, James. Every so often, the two would end up at each other’s throats, a war of words erupting and ending with a fight.
“Just look at him. Pretty pathetic for an elder brother, don’t you think?”
Speak of the devil. James was always rude to everyone. It was a wonder why the girls liked him so much. His fists pulsed with anger, resisting the urge to smack his smart face for once. His cheery face darkened, his voice dripping with venomous spite.
“What do you want, brother?
“Nothing,” came the reply, before disappearing into the crowds with his entourage.
Henry kept silent. What now? He hadn’t done much since the exams were near. Shrugging his thought away, he began to stride home carefully, pondering on what was to come when he arrived home.
His faces singed with a stinging pain as a tight slap made itself present against his cheeks. Clutching his face, the man silently endured the barrage which rained on him. His parents were livid at him for injuring his younger brother. They were even furious when they heard about him cheating on a test. Henry knew it was all a lie. He was aware of the frame placed on him. Hanging his head low, his eyes caught a glance of James standing by his parents, a wicked mirth emanating from his detestable person.
He must die, he loathed silently in his thoughts. The man was going to torment him forever. He was going to take away everything he had, slowly. The “younger brother” was trying to curse him to a life of misery.
The ill man turned away from the journal, his unstable thoughts preoccupying him. He looked through the grey bars which provided him the only light source in the room. Before him, he watched as white coats stepped to and fro in the corridor, passing other rooms like his. The sickly stench of maroon blood stained his jacket, his arms forever bounded by it. A manic laugh escaped his lips. He was never going to be released.