~~Fyodor runs his hand over the raised skin around his neck. The world zips past the bus window in a plain blur of dull muted color. The sky is just rising in a strip of crimson matching the cheeks of most of the kids in the frigid bus. Fyodor`s head jumps and smash back into the window with each movement of the old bus striking a continuous pounding head ache. To tired to raise his head the young male closes his eyes and pays no mind to the constant jolting.

Silence dances through the bus as it does most mornings. They all lived far enough from the school that the bus ride was an hour on good days, which due to leaving so early, most were. Some kids dozed off in the back while the bus driver herself struggles to stay awake. A gentle humming keeps Fyodor from fully slipping off.

"Sybella shut up." The male grumbles irritated.

"I wasn`t talking moron." The younger female snaps.

Fyodor cracks open a steal blue eye to glare at the female beside him. Her thick black hair matching his own was tied back in a tight braid and her cold moss green eyes watched him angrily.

"Your humming is annoying." He says as his eyes drift back close.

The younger female rolls her eyes at her older brother`s rude comment. Despite her irritation she falls into the tranquility of the rest off the bus. Fyodor gladly took the chance to drift off into a light unsettled sleep. Not much time passes before a big bump sends him flying into the air and his head ram into the window. The collision is hard enough to make an audible thump.

Fyodor winces rubbing his head messing his black hair just centimeters from being long enough to for ringlets. Sybella snickers beside him looking over from the corner of her eyes.

"Are you ok?" She asks half heartedly.

Fyodor nods a bit ignoring the giggles that slip pass his sisters lips. He sighs and settles his gaze out into the passing world knowing sleep is no longer an option. He decides it would have been a sleep that only makes you more tired any way.

"I spy with my little eye..." His sister starts glancing around, "Oh! Something yellow."

Fyodor rolls his eyes but a small smile spreads across his lips. He glances around, "Is it the sun?"

"No." Sybella draws out the word giggling some, "You know better than that Fyodor. Come on you are my twin aren`t you suppose to know what I am thinking?"

A small smirk slips across the male`s lips, "Fine. Is it a...hmm let`s see." He glances again until a flash of bright color catches his eyes. "Is it a finch?"

"Yes, you got it." His sister responds cheerfully, "It is your turn."

Fyodor`s eyes take a quick scope of the area. Before he can think a color slips out of his mouth, "I spy something green."

"Is it Jessica`s shirt?" The female besides him asks a sly smirk stretching across her pale cheeks.

"No." Fyodor snaps too quickly heat rising to his cheeks.

The blond haired female sat diagonal from them. Her curly hair was pulled back into a bun to keep it under control. A small layer of pudge protected a small tan belly and wide thighs hold the muscles of a soccer player. Her eyes were the color of milk chocolate with a burst of spring green. To Fyodor she was very enticing but, while the female was his friend, for anything beyond that she refused to give him the time of day.

Indeed today Jessica`s shirt was a gentle green that causes her eyes to sparkle more then usual. She chats with the pale ginger besides her whose name Fyodor doesn`t know as he hardly spends time around Jessica`s soccer friends. He himself played on the JV soccer team at their school but the boys could hardly compete with the girls` teams and that sometimes caused tension between the groups.

"I think you are lying." Sybella says slyly.

"Oh shut up." Her brother huffs now tired of the childish game.

The small girl shrugs her thin wiry shoulders and looks back ahead. She plunges into conversation with two people sitting in the seat across from him. Fyodor believes one is a Russian exchange student that Sybella has an interest in. He knows his father would approve as he himself was Russian and came to the U.S. to marry their mother, not that anyone could tell as his father dropped all of his traditions to respect their mother.

By the time they reach the school the sun has finally surpassed the horizon and warmed up the earth enough to bring it above zero degrees ferinheight, still single digits but it was a start. They clamber off the bus in a slow stumbling line. As a blob they head into the warmth of the small school building.

Children plod down the crowded hall ways. The lull of the silent morning is soon to be shattered by bells and shouting teachers, something no student wanted to get caught up in. Fyodor rushed off to his English class on the way he nearly fell running into Michel. The boy was such a boor. He sneers at Fyodor but before the much taller male can hear the caustic comment he darts into the small brightly painted English 11 class room.

Michel is sure to give Fyodor hell at lunch but he couldn`t care less. The annoying male had few friends, he duped to many with stupid ruses to actually be able to keep any loyalty. The brown haired brat was truly no concern anymore.

Fyodor took his seat near the back of the class. He pulls out the book, Crime and Punishment. His English 10 class did it last year but their new teacher loves the book so much she decided to go over it again. What better time to do it then with a kid that has the same name as the author anyways?

Fyodor looked at the book. He shut off his mind and focused on the topic at hand preparing for the long, boring day.

By lunch time Fyodor`s stomach growls loud enough for people close to him to hear. Breakfast had been skipped for five more minutes of sleep. He sits down at the table before the others in their lunch group arrive. Being the tallest in the group he has to sit on the edge of the small grey bench connected to the long plastic topped table. Already reaching six foot the seat wasn`t uncomfortable but at least he isn`t as bulky as Caleb.

Caleb could barely fit at the table being an inch shorter than Fyodor but a good bit wider. The bigger boy still manages to claim the seat across from Fyodor. He flips some brown hair out of his face muttering about how he needs to get it cut. Besides Fyodor sits Jazz, decently tall he looked pathetically short compared to his friend and his tanner skin and blond hair were the exact opposite of his pale friend with deep black hair. Jazz and Fyodor were good friends and had been since pre-k.

Caleb and Jazz already fall into deep conversation, something travelling over from weight training.

"What are you too talking about?" Fyodor grunts, reluctant to leave his own personal bubble of thought.

"Jazz thinks that in a decomposition reaction that the catalyst is on both sides of the equation." Caleb says.

"Nu-uh," Jazz is laughing a bit as he talks clearly trying to dig himself out of another ditch of stupidity, "I was just saying it doesn`t change."

"How fucking stupid can you be Jazz?" Fyodor asks in slight irritation.

"I`m not stupid I just got confused." Jazz says still caught in a bit of laughter at himself.

Fyodor rolls his eyes, "The catalyst doesn`t react at all, it isn`t in the equation."

This information struck up a back and forth of told you so and nu-uhs. Fyodor scans the now settling crowd of rambunctious teenagers. It is a bit stupid that they think they can crowd all these kids in one school without loud moments, yet people walked around trying to shut them up.

"Looking for someone Fyodor?" Jazz asks with a smirk pulling his friend from his search.

"Nah Jazz you know it isn`t Jessica because he doesn`t have that weird look on his face." Caleb jokes then turns to examine Fyodor, "So who is it you are looking for? Seems like you are expecting trouble."

"I am." Fyodor grumbles. "Mitchel is being an ass again."

"What did that little shit do this time?" Jazz asks.

"I bumped into him on the way to class he acted like I insulted him or something. I swear he has a vendetta on me over such trivial things." He answers.

"Wow vocab king slow down we aren`t in Ms. Taylor's room." Caleb says picking at his food.

Fyodor just nods a bit and turns his attention back to the unappetizing school pizza. He picks at the food eventually giving in and eating the meal. He really expected to one day run into a body part or something in this food; he knew another kid who actually got sever food poisoning from it.

By the end of the day Fyodor is done. The weak is only half way through but early mornings and late nights are taking a toll. He collapses on his bed debating on dropping his AP classes for honors. The thoughts buzz through his head as heavy eyelids fall closed. He pulls his plain brown comforter around him having completely forgotten that Michel, always one to get back at people, wasn`t at lunch earlier or anywhere around Fyodor for that matter. Instead the tall tired boy drifts off into sleep.

Fyodor`s chest falls and rises evenly. His thin tall frame, perfect for his sport, curls up into a ball as he drifts off deeper and deeper into his subconscious.

~Shouting.

So much shouting.

It echoes across the dark frozen tundra. Repeating...repeating...repeating what.

The ground crunches with each step forward. Ice. The ground was frozen and covered in snow and ice.

The shouting grows louder and louder.

Flames grow in the distance.

A blob of blackness against the orange glow.

People, it was a heard of people.

They surrounded one man who stood tall above them. Their voices rang out in anger and defiance.

A cold wind flies past lifting black hair. The scene is closer now, clearer.

The man who stood above the others. He glared at the mass defying him. He had thick black hair and a long bushy beard. He does not bend or crouch to their shouts; he dare not even bow to the bitter wind.

Shouting. Flames. Wind. Darkness.

The rest of the world was dark and foreboding. Shadows bent and crawled twisting and twirling against the fire that fights them off.

The fire against the darkness. The shouts against the wind.

It burns, the flames burn.

It hurts, the darkness tears.

Blood drips as skin is singed and torn apart from both sides.

Above the wind peals and drags. The shouts slice like tiny blades.

Flames and darkness bellow, wind and voices above.

Thick seeping blood.

What are they saying? What are they saying? What is it? What?!

Pain consumes as it drags. Drags through the snow that numbs the pain but strengthens the fear.

Smoke clouds the sky. The metallic scent of blood drifts with the bitter bite of the acidic gas. No air, burnt lungs, bitter cold.

Dragging, away from...no to. Dragging to the issue. The center toward the center.

The snow numbs pain but stirs deep fear.

Rotting flesh and brittle bones.~

Fyodor jumps up from bed sweat slipping down his face. He rubs off his clammy palms and glances around breathing heavily. He tries to calm his erratic heart beat. He gulps a bit forcing himself to settle down. The dark shadows in his room slowly reveal to be the mess he had yet to pick up. A few discarded clothes, a haphazardly thrown book bag, some text books and a chair pulled away from the desk.

Fyodor sighs leaning back against his wall. He runs a hand through the thick black wavy hair atop his head. He checks the time glad to see that it is four thirty, time to get up anyways. He rises out of bed and flicks on his head closing his eyes against the blinding light. He grumbles a bit as he prepares for a day of school.

Fyodor starts the day with a warm shower then breakfast of toasted brown cinnamon pop-tarts, luckily. If Sybella had chosen he knows they would only have blueberry ones. He takes his time to wake up as he picks at his food slowly. His mind wanders to no where in particular.

Fyodor fell asleep pretty early, probably forgot to do homework, oh well most teachers will give him more time they know he`ll do his work eventually though often a bit late. His grades refuse to drop and all the questions for tutoring were becoming annoying. Sure his grades were good but the tasks at hand just came to him, he isn`t really one to give help when he can`t comprehend how he does it himself.

"So you are finally awake lazy?" Sybella asks as she glides into the kitchen.

Fyodor rolls his eyes speaking with a bite of sarcasm, "No just wandering around in my sleep."

The female huffs crossing her arms, "You are such a jerk sometimes."

"Hey you called me lazy." Fyodor says pointing the last bit of his pop-tart at his sister.

Sybella sticks her tongue out at her brother before getting a bowl of cereal and sitting down. They eat is silence the early morning weighing heavily on their tired minds and preventing uplifting conversation. A shudder runs down the tall boy`s spine as he recalls the nightmare plaguing his thoughts. What was that?

Fyodor snaps out of it with a tap to his head.

"Come on lazy time to go catch the bus." Sybella says.

A sigh escapes the male`s lips as he rises from the dull brown chair. He swings the dull grey book bag over his shoulder and follows hi sister out the door. The burning silence sticking to them all morning.

The day dully passes by. Once again the short boy did not keep up on his threat and Fyodor let the incident drop from his mind. Mitchel was not really worth the energy anyways, not with Jazz pestering him about the activity series and if copper is above or bellow silver and why. Once the long hours of torture finally passed the tall male gladly took his seat on the bus. To his surprise Jessica slid into the seat next to him instead of Sybella.

The small blond smiles up at Fyodor and he finds himself smiling back. He glances around the bus yet does not spot his sister. Upon noticing some black hair and a familiar yellow headband in the back he pushes all worry aside and turns to gaze at Jessica. An unsettled silence falls between them. While the bus was alive with talk and chatter neither of the two dare to talk in fear of speaking wrong.

Fyodor takes the chance to notice how small the female is compared to him. Of course she was tall compared to some of her teammates and her muscles from playing soccer were no joke yet the boy next to her made her look so small. Naturally built tall and lean the male was a six foot some solid mass of muscle with very little baby fat. He was slim for his height but wide compared to the pudgy girl. He almost felt awkward.

"Are you ok?" Jessica asks noticing his stares.

Fyodor feels heat rises to his face, "Y-yea just thinking."

"Oh, ok. Well it looks like we are here." Jessica says rising from her seat. "Goodbye."

Fyodor watches her slip off the bus letting out a quiet mumble, "Bye."

He moves out of the seat and into the tight isle. He pushes his way out of the bus waiting on the sidewalk for his sister. Upon spotting her his heart sinks and the hair on his neck stands on end.

"Mitchel." He growls at the boy chatting with his sister.

Mitchel smiles innocently, "Oh, hey Fyodor. Me and your sister are working on a project today so I got permission to go home with you guys."

With that the sneaky boy starts to walk off with a confused Sybella. The female glances back with moss green eyes at her brother a small frown dipping across her face.

"Your sister and I." Fyodor growls correcting the other boy.

He stalks after the two and sinking feeling in his gut. That brat must surely be up to something.

The door swings open with a gentle creak as the three teenagers walk in a burst of cold air clashing with the warmth of the house. A small shiver runs down Mitchel`s spine.

"Your house is kinda cold." He grumbles rubbing his arms some as he walks into the dining room and setting his book bag down.

Sybella follows him, "Fyodor can you start a fire while we work on our project?"

The older male nods some and disappears back into the cold air. The bitter bite of the fading winter slips through his jacket and gloves. Despite the weather being warmer than the past few days the cold still lingered heavily freezing all it touched. The collects a few small logs bits of bark fall off and sprinkling to the ground.

Fyodor shuffles back inside the logs weighing him down slightly. He drops them with a solid thud by the fire place smirking when he hears some angry muttering from the other room. The boy kneels by the fire place his gut churning with anger. Did his sister not know what a dick Mitchel was? Did she expect him to actually help? A sigh escapes his lips, of course Sybella was too good natured to say no to someone everyone else refused to partner up with.

Fyodor starts the fire. He adds a few logs listening to the gentle crackle and the growing warmth. Small embers rise with a dull glow from the flames. He grabs the cool black fire iron gently using the sharp end to shift a log and get more air to the fire. The flames dance in their new freedom as some ash stirs. He thinks a moment watching the flames as his hand dully traces the simple round end. Funny how the dull side looks almost like a perch.

A frown slips across his rounded face at the odd silence. Shouldn`t Mitchel and Sybella be talking if they were working on a project? Fyodor rises off the floor still griping the fir iron in his large hand. He plods to the dining room peering around the corner just as a shriek echoes through the house.

Fyodor winces covering his ears. His steal blue eyes widen in realization, Sybella screamed. He tightly grips the fire iron as he runs around the corner. The brown haired boy, once shorter than his sister towers over her anger clear in his eyes. His hand is tightly gripped on something and guessing by the look of fear on his sister`s eyes as well as her hand being placed carefully on her cheek Fyodor believes the boy used it to smack her.

Mitchel lurches forward raising what he holds in his hand again. Vile words and harsh comments fly freely from his mouth as the book in his hand flies slow motion toward Sybella`s face. Fyodor felt his grip tighten as rage clouded his view. His sister quivers expecting another hit only causing Fyodor`s heart to pound in anger.

Blinded by hate and bitter emotions Fyodor rushes at Mitchel. A cry reverberates around the house before all falls silent.

Fyodor feels his breathing calm as the anger slips away. The remaining breath catches in his throat as he views the scene before his eyes. Blood splatters the, now extremely pale, Sybella staining her clothes and coating her face. She seems in shock as she dare not move, mouth agape in mid scream as she stares into lifeless empty brown eyes.

Mitchel hangs only inches above Sybella. The only thing from preventing the fresh corpse from collapsing on the horrified female is the now red tip of the fire iron sticking through him. The sharp metal catches on his skin dripping more blood on the female in front of him. The metallic smell of blood and the stench of burnt flesh from where the still searing hot fire iron went through the boy float around the room seeming to mock Fyodor of the crime done.

Fyodor quickly rips the fire iron out shaking some. He catches the body before it hits his sister moving it aside. He turns his dull shaking steal blue gaze to meet the moss green eyes of his sister.

"Go clean up." ,he says shakily his breathing ragged, "Quickly, I`ll clean this up."

Sybella snaps out of her frightened daze scrambling up off the door. She scampers off like a dear caught in headlights finally getting free. She disappears from sight closing her door sharply creating a loud thud.

Fyodor jumps at the sound looking around wildly. He settles down and quickly picks up the corpse of the smaller boy. He slips out back looking around on occasion. His hair stands on end. He slips down the porch each sound sending him ten feet in the air. He creeps across the yard and stops by the back up woodpile. He hesitates before grabbing the axe. He stares at it a moment before deciding against it and putting the sharp tool back, that was too messy and would draw attention.

Fyodor quickly hides the body stopping to glance around. He closes his eyes rubbing his temples taking a few deep breathes of sharp cold air. The freezing air is enough to draw his sense back to him and he strides back into the house with a sense of purpose. He walks into the kitchen his face devoid of emotion. He wets a bunch of paper towels and walks over to the splatter of blood. He tries to wipe it up making sure to keep calm glad most of the blood fell on the floor rather than his sister.

Before long Sybella peers around the corner. She watches her brother work shivers running down her spine. Most of the blood is now cleaned up but a lot was pushed around so it was no longer in small concentrated spots. Tears prick the edge of her moss green eyes as the scene replays through her head. Mitchel smacking her with the book, threatening to beat her death, she didn`t even know why. Mitchel raising his hand and then...she didn`t even know Fyodor was in the room until she...until she saw the fire iron slide through Mitchel`s body to spray her with blood.

Sybella`s stomach churns as bile raises in her throat. Fyodor, her dear older brother, why had he done that? couldn`t he have just ripped Mitchel away? Did he really have to...have to kill him? She shakes her head throwing around thick black hair sending droplets of water from her shower around. He had to, he was just protecting her. It was going to be ok, he was her older brother.

"Go get some rest, don`t fret." Fyodor`s voice calmly breaks the silence turning some to look at his younger sibling.

Sybella nods pleating the bottom of her shirt. She slips off to her room laying down on her bed. She pulls the covers close drifting of into a light unsettled sleep. Images of the death flashing in her mind through out the night waking her hourly.

Fyodor looks at the floor finally sparkling in the dimming light. He sighs and sits back pushing a few longer strands of black hair out of hic face. He picks up the paper towels and throws them in the fire his steal blue gaze not leaving them as flames slowly eat away the signs of his crime. His gaze turns back to the bloody fire iron. As much as he had tried the blood refused to leave the black surface, almost as if the blood was part of it.

Fyodor walks over lifting the tool turned weapon. Glancing around he tries to formulate a plan as what to do with it just as the creak of the door catches his attention. With little choice he darts to his room quickly hiding the weapon. He slides it under his bed the dried blood flaking off onto the dull brown carpet. He quickly tries to scrub it away.

"Kids we`re home." Fyodor`s mother`s voice carries lightly through the house.

Fyodor shoots up quickly slipping from his room. He raises a finger to his lips to quiet his parents. "Sybella is sleeping."

A frown dips off the face of his petit mother, "What`s wrong with my babies lately? First you and now Sybella?"

"I think something may be going around." Fyodor explains a perfect smile slipping across his face with the flawless lie.

The woman sighs nervously runs a hand through the notes in her light brown hair.

"As to be expected with kids." The boys father grumbles.

Two sets of steal blue eyes meet in silence. A quite conversation passes between father and son as the small mother flutters around like a humming bird. His father grunts some in acceptance of the lie before lumbering off to assist his wife with dinner. A relieved sigh passing Fyodor`s lips. A final relieved sigh.

2: Guilt

~~Night sweeps over the land dragging with it a thick winter mist that creeps across the ground. The grass crunches under slow heavy steps and large boots. A small limp body lays across two outstretched arms curled up around the light body weighed down by the deed now setting atop the males broad shoulders.

Fyodor gazes ahead with dull steal blue eyes determined to stay calm. He does not even flinch as the quickly cooling body falls slightly revealing lifeless brown eyes. A small grunt escapes his lips as he sneers in disgust; the crime done was no fault of his, truly this little rat deserved it. Such excuses would earn him no freedom if this draws to a trial though and disposing of the main piece of evidence would work best for the male and his sister.

Fyodor grimaces at the thought of his dear twin witnessing such horrors. The poor frail creature growing paler as the red life line of this beast dashed across her face. Never did he want his sister to face such events, she was too sweet, too innocent. Now, Fyodor thinks, now though she must bear the burden of something not her fault.

The male shakes his head throwing around pitch black hair that dared to attempt to curl. Such thoughts would provide no assistance, yet that gaze of terror sent his stomach lurching more than the actual corpse. He finds himself stopping to avoid hurling the dinner he ate not long ago.

A deep breath rises Fyodor`s wide chest, the bitter air allowing him a small bit of serenity in this growing hell. He pushes on in long strides his legs already aching from the constricting cold and quick walk. Not much father ahead does a large ditch stretch out before him. Over grown and rarely checked this would be the best place to dispose of the pest until better options rose.

The ditch fell at the edge of a large estate the house barely in sight as it stands in its full glory despite the dim moonlit night. Bright light pours from large windows illuminating thick green grass that suspiciously still grows in this cold season. A large white from with a stair case appearing of pure marble by sight of those who knew no better, lead to a large porch with white pillars supporting shelter over the stone rising.

Fyodor can nearly make out every wide curved window on the side facing him. Windows that someone could easily be looking out of. While the boy, now clad in dark clothes a long coat and heavy grey blue boots, could not possibly be spotted at such a far distance, his shape was bound to look like lurking shadows that would draw much attention. He shook out such negative thoughts, now was no time to think like that.

Mitchel`s body is dropped carelessly in the ditch with a muffled, 'thud.' He rolls over the cold quickly claiming the now ghostly white boy. the gaping hole through his chest echoes a lost thought and broken soul mocking the male looming over head. His clothes were blood stained and torn, wood debris and plant matter clinging on each and every fiber of cloth.

Fyodor kneels down to peer better into the thick brown foliage. He pulls and tugs at leaves and vines careful to rip none from the ground. Slowly he moves the brown cover over the corpse, a blanket to block eyes rather than elements. A bit of green still peaks through the branches camouflaging all but the dark rusty red staring back at Fyodor.

The male ponders how to fix the problem. The shuffle of feet and cracking frost sends his head up and his gaze wild. His eyes dance around the dark land stretched out ahead of him. A small dark shape walking with slow uncertain steps, pauses between each step, toward him gripping what is probably a jacket tightly around them. With no time left he pulls as much foliage of the worse spots as quickly as possible wincing at the rustling sound.

Fyodor rises off the ground enough to slip behind a large oak tree. He crouches near the hard ground, pressing his back into the tree until he feels the snag of rough bark grabbing his clothes and digging into his back. He reaches out a hand to balance himself as he glances around the large brown barrier.

Shock registers on Fyodor`s face as his eyes widen some at the sight before him. Pulling close a thin purple jacket Jessica shivers in the dark night. Her pale legs are bare erupting with small bumps suggesting she wears only thin pajamas. Blond curls rise and fall in the delicate wind hiding squinting hazel eyes.

"Hello?" She calls out with a steady voice.

Fyodor`s breath catches in his throat as he watches the female stagger against the cold. His heart pounds in his head as she approaches the ditch. His spine stiffens as she glances down but another cold wind rips away the small comfort the female has causing her to glance back at the comfort of her home.

Jessica scans the area one last time the haunting shadows revealing no shape or form. A shrug raises her strong shoulders. She turns around climbing the slow accent to her house fading from sight in the growing darkness.

Fyodor stays locked in place for another five, agonizingly slow minutes before rising. His legs are stiff and soar from such an awkward position and the biting cold. He stretches out shaking his legs some to ebb the pain away. Silently he stalks home on alert.

That night Fyodor knows he will have no luck sleeping. The image of a dying Mitchel dances behind his closed eyelids. His gut stirs and his head pounds with tiny fist beating against it. Every time he starts to drift off only to jolt awake glancing around. Someone must have seen him? There is no way he walked that far, weighted down with a mysterious bundle without being spotted? Surely Jessica isn`t that dull? He must be caught right?

No...no Fyodor got away with it, it was the perfect crime after all. A boy no one liked, a ditch no one saw, the weapon and blood all gone and hidden, no fingerprints, no crime scene, no evidence, no motive. Yes a perfect crime with no way to trace it to him and his family, Mitchel simply got lost on his way home, severely sidetracked. Sidetracked by death...

Mornings. Are. Hell. If waking up early is against the way teenagers are meant to function then which idiot had the idea to make them the first to go to school?

Fyodor rolls over in bed to glare at his blaring alarm clock, the bright red colors reminding him just how early it is. Lucky him, 5 am he got to sleep an extra twenty minutes. Wait...an extra twenty minutes, is Sybella ok? The male pushes himself up out of bed going to check on his dear twin who always rose at 4:30 in order to wake herself up more and have time to collect herself before leaving.

Fyodor`s feet hit the ground with a muffled thud as he meanders over to his door. He peers into the hall cautiously peaking around the large plank of wood. Nope Sybella wasn`t there to scare him. This set his head into a spiral as the unusually quiet house remained that way. He walks into the hallway, the old floorboards giving a low whining creak.

The male lumbers down the hall to the paint splattered door diagonal to his own. He carefully takes hold of the smooth silver handle sending a shock of cold through him. The door whines in its hinges as he slowly pries it open. A frown sinks his pale cheeks to see A mound under the covers. Loud, joyous, always healthy Sybella lay under her covers still, groaning slightly as if in great discomfort. The teal, lavender, blue, and yellow floral comforter shifts some to reveal the girl.

Sybella is covered with a thin layer of sweat despite the shivers wracking her body. Small sobs slip pass her puckered lips. Her skin looks sallow and dark bags hang low under her shut eyes. Pathetic, she looks pathetic in this ill state, probably not even capable of raising her thin arms from the tight covers.

The door gently clicks back into place as Fyodor slips down the hall. Surely yesterday`s events were not the cause of this, right? Yet the thought itself made Fyodor sick with guilt. Could their minds wish to punish them for their wrong? Their very own minds and beings?

Fyodor sits at the round table in their wide open kitchen that felt tighter than normal. His head spins some as he picks at the bagel in front of him. His stomach growls in protest as he forces another bite down his tight throat. He could not fall sick like his sister, that would arise suspicion and that could be disastrous. Still he could fit no more food in his stomach at the moment.

The chair screeches against the floor as it moves back. Fyodor rises walking across the shining floor, the image of bright red blood staining the surface stalling him for a second. He shakes his head and dumps the food in the trashcan biting back bile that threatened to rise and join the rest of the bagel in the trash.

Just get through the day, then it will get better. Fyodor is certain this can not last as he exits the house. The warmth of inside drags against him licking his back and calling him back away from the icy air. He ignores the pleas as usual and walks down the greyish beige sidewalk. His steps fall heavy as he contemplates the night prior.

Four blocks of cement forward, turn left. Another ten blocks, turn left again. Fifteen blocks, right then three blocks before another left. Five blocks, stop at the corner. Fyodor follows the simple path counting as he walks. Desperate to distract his mind, he counts the houses on the street then divides them by the number of each color to get the percent of brown houses. Math has always been his strong point and his greatest distraction, it flows through his mind as easily as blood flows through veins or oxygen flows into lungs.

Fyodor discovers that out of the twenty-four houses in sight fifteen, or sixty-two point five percent of them were brown. Just as he is about to move on to the number of yellow houses the bus pulls up in front of him sliding some on the sleek black road. He climbs aboard the silent bus listening to the gentle rattle. The bus driver lifts a greying eyebrow at not seeing Sybella but asks nothing upon noticing the somber look on Fyodor`s long face.

Most were use to seeing Sybella at school even if she was sick so her absence earned great pity as they knew she was severely ill. Fyodor slips across the raised metal isle, squeezing between tightly packed brown seats. He slips into one near the front, sitting down on the vinyl cover sending a chill through his jeans.

Foyodor`s gaze falls out the window. He just needs to make it through today.

The week drags on pulling its feet to leave behind a continuous jagged trail. Sybella has been rushed to the hospital twice, but no one can say what`s wrong with her. Fyodor has grown distant. He finds socializing distasteful and a waste of his time, besides if he slipped they would know. His health drops, many days his head is pounding and he feels like he will throw up his whole stomach but he dare not show the signs.

Finally Friday had struck. He just had to get through the week and all would be better. He sinks into his seat at the lunch table posture ridged and eyes darting around. He pulls out an apple not having the will to force down more into his clenching stomach. Hunger ripples through him but he can not bear the sickening churning of the contents in his stomach.

Caleb and Jazz walk over their conversation bouncing around Fyodor in soft rapid whispers. He feels his heart rate pick up as he sits up straighter. they knew, they found out, somehow. The rumors of Mitchel`s death had spread and the two knew of Fyodor`s hatred for the boy; they must have put the pieces together.

Fyodor forces himself to not rise and bolt as the two sit down across from him. Frowns pull their faces down and pin them in a gaze of pity. Distress tugs at his heart as he shifts some under their concerned gazes.

"Dude are you ok?" Jazz asks, being the one to break the silence as usual.

"Yes." Fyodor says forcing himself to breath through his constricting throat, "Why do you ask?"

"You are acting off, really off." Jazz says.

"Is it 'cause Sybella is sick?" Caleb finally speaks up.

Fyodor settles some at the question. A cool smile of relief slips across his face; his friends take it as a sad smile of admittance.

"Don`t worry, she`ll get better eventually. Probably just the flu or some other bug going around. Maybe why Mitch is out too." Caleb says his shoulders rising in a tiny shrug.

Fyodor`s posture turns ridged again at the mention of Mitchel. "Y-yea, probably." He breathes out shakily.

Fyodor quickly rises as his vision spirals and spins into disarray. He starts to stumble away from the table weakly, his legs quivering from the effort. The weight of what he has done and the consequences to follow smash down harshly on his shoulders nearly sending him to the floor.

"Fyodor, what are you doing? You look like you are about to hurl, should I get the nurse?" Caleb asks wising up some.

Fyodor rapidly shakes his head only to make his head pound more and cause more confusion and discomfort. "No...I just need to go get some air and think a bit." He forces out the words as strongly as he can.

Caleb slowly slips back into his seat. Him and Jazz watch Fyodor walk toward the door his knees buckling and threatening to give out at any second. After a quick word with the tall lunch monitor lurking near the door he is allowed to exit. The door swings open slamming shut. Fyodor jumps as the sound echoes in his ears against the dulled and gentled whispers.

Voices danced through Fyodor`s head. Gentle mocking whispers. They knew, they knew everything and they were waiting, just waiting to trick him and trap him like a rabbit in a snare, the clever fox who was out smarted. He reaches up large hands to harshly grip short hair yanking on it. His body quivers and shakes he bites back yowls of anger and irritation. Silent threats slip past his pale lips drawn thin in a grimace.

"Fyodor?" A gentle voice rings out above the rest.

Fyodor slowly peers behind him with bloodshot steal blue eyes. Jessica shifts from foot to foot behind him. her small hand balls up the bottom of her shirt as she shrinks down under his harsh gaze. He forces himself to calm down and smile some but the smile falters often.

"O-oh, hi Jessica. D-do you need something?" He asks a bit shakily.

Jessica tilts her head, sympathy washes across her face with a lopsided frown, "No, you just seem like you could use some company."

Fyodor felt his stomach flip and his heart lurch. A genuine smile threatens to take over his face but he holds it back simply nodding, "Yea, I guess I could use some."

Jessica smiles gently, barely showing her sparkling teeth. She walks over to him in a light almost jogging like fashion. She walks up next to Fyodor. She looks up at him waving her small arm, "Come on, I know a teacher that will let us stay until lunch is over."

Fyodor nods and follows her. They stroll down the hallway side-by-side their swinging arms nearly brushing together. He can feel the warmth radiating off of Jessica and smell her pear berry perfume.

"So, would you like to come over this after noon?" Jessica eventually asks breaking the blissful silence.

Fyodor looks at her with wider eyes. Had he heard her right. He must of because as the thought passes through his head she looks up at him with big expectant chocolate brown eyes. The green in her eyes dances in small waves through the shining surface. Something gnaws on Fyodor`s stomach persuading him to give a curt nod.

Jessica`s small smile only grows larger lighting up her face like a candle in Fyodor`s dark situation. They continue in silence toward their destination.

The day rapidly draws to an end after lunch. Fyodor for once no longer aches with guilt and worry but floats on joy and excitement. He practically jumps into the bus, gliding to his seat and plopping down. His stomach growls with a returning sense of hunger. He was right, he only had to get through the week for things to turn around. This meant Sybella would get better too right?

The vinyl cover on the seat shifts slightly. Fyodor peers over his heart nearly stopping as he sees Jessica smiling beside him. Between the tiny seat and Fyodor`s side their thighs had to press together and their sides nearly meet. Warmth rises to his face as he returns the smile.

"I think we have the same stop." Jessica says, "So we will just get off as normal and I can show you the way to my house."

Fyodor nods a bit no words coming to his mind on how to respond.

Silence again fills the air between them but it is not an awkward silence. The silence is gentle and kind like they are just accepting each other's friendship. For Jessica to help, for Fyodor a way to cope with the stress sinking its teeth into him. Smiles pull up their faces pinning them into a look of peace.

Before any time seems to pass at all the bus slows to a stop nearly launching a few kids, those who had been eager to get off and were standing already, forward. Fyodor rises up, the seat pressing into the back of his legs preventing him from doing so comfortably. Jessica stands up besides him with the same difficulty. They hold onto the seat in front of them to prevent themselves from falling.

Jessica slips into the isle pulling her small orange backpack up upon her shoulders. She walks between the seats toward the door climbing down the large bus steps. Fyodor follows her carefully; he struggles more with his large blue backpack having to yank it roughly from between the seats. they slip from the somewhat warm metal box into the chilly air.

Jessica pulls her purple coat around her walking slowly. Fyodor smiles ignoring the bite against his bare arms. He had not had time to clean his coat and, while he was careful not to get blood on it, the putrid scent of death and metallic clang of blood lingered in the fabric. They walk down the street their feet clapping the sidewalk steadily.

Fyodor`s stomach drops and his head spins. His throat constrict but his lungs beg for oxygen. Towering above them on a small incline is a large, sparkling, pearl white house with marble like stairs and a plethora of large rounded windows. The long stretch of yard around the house is unusually green in the season of death for plants. A deep, vine riddled ditch runs along the edge of the estate, a small cluster of oak tress near the back of the property.

The estate from a few nights ago. Fyodor had all but forgotten the house that night or the near run in with Jessica. A peach colored blur passes in front of his eyes a small voice cracking the glass isolating him from the real world.

"Fyodor?" Jessica says, probably for at least the second time as concern edges into her gentle but quick voice. A frown pulls her porcelain face into a grim picture.

Fyodor blinks rapidly snapping back some, "O-oh, uh, s-sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was asking if you wanted me to show you around outside? I like it better out here because I find inside just a bit...I don`t know, too much. I mean we can still go in if you want? I guess you are probably cold not having a jacket and all. wow I should have thought about that before asking." Jessica starts to ramble rapidly staring down at her feet. She fidgets some under Fyodor`s gaze.

Pity stirs in Fyodor`s gut at the female`s shaky rambling. He swallows the lump in his throat and speaks without a second thought, "I`m fine, don`t worry. We can go look around outside, I would love to see it."

Jessica`s head snaps up for her warm hazel eyes to peer up into Fyodor`s steal blue ones. A gentle easily slips across his face with such simplicity even he is not sure if it is real or not. The girl finds herself smiling back, a light red dusting her cheeks as she suddenly realizes how close they were. She takes his hand in her small one. Her hand is soft as silk and warm compared to the red frozen fingers of Fyodor.

Jessica pulls him forward over the gravel path, the ground slipping and stirring some under each step. The scratch and scrapping sound settles between them, the only thing stopping their very heartbeats to be audible. The sharp icy air smells of the nip of frost and stirred dirt. The grass bows to a gentle wind that sweeps across the ground

Jessica makes her way across the large field. Eventually conversations stir and warmth fills the air as each word is joined by a puff of condensation. Smiles stretch their faces. Jessica`s face lights up and her eyes dance with sparkles. Fyodor`s facelifts up for the first time in months, a smile actually finds his face and the bags under his eyes diminish slightly. Light laughter ripples through the light air in waves of gentle tinkles and a loud booming drum. So alike yet so different, the two find a peace in conversations ranging from soccer to favorite colors to people at school.

Jessica suddenly breaks into a run her powerful legs pushing her forward. She kicks up dirt speeding off like a little gazelle. Fyodor watches her go trying to determine her destination.

Large trees bend and bow in the distance their branches swaying as the trunk remains firmly in place. Brown bark dips and turns as if carved by the most masterful artist. The clear branches reach into the sky with long boney fingers grasping at the sky. Jessica carefully leaps over the small dip in the ground her long legs outstretched perfectly to land on the other side with a light thud. A bit of dirt crumbles in falling into the smooth curve in the earth.

Fyodor drags his feet forcing himself forward. He shuffles toward the horrid place, his mind shutting down making his movements lethargic like an obese cat. He feels numb, the cold no longer biting, the ground missing from under him, as he draws ever near. Is he even truly moving anymore? Does the place just grow closer in his mind?

Jessica waits patiently on the other side. She swings one of her legs kicking at the ground some as she watches his sluggish movement. Fyodor steps over the ditch. He stares straight ahead, fearful that if he looks down the ground will split to eat him, or worse Mitchel will be there watching him, reminding him of his guilt.

"You ok?" Jessica asks.

Fyodor feels his head shift but isn`t certain if he is nodding or not. He opens his now dry mouth, "Yea, I`m fine. ...This is an in-interesting place."

Jessica shrugs, her strong shoulders rising some, "Yea I guess it is compared to the fields." She smiles some and carefully hauls herself onto the lowest branch of the closes tree. The branch shifts some but holds strong supporting her weight, "Personally it is my favorite place on this boring canvas of land."

Fyodor nods some. He lifts himself onto a branch on the other side of the tree. The bark presses into his hand digging into the flesh. The branch shifts and sways, it ripples and cracks in protest of holding weight but still holds up Fyodor. He settles down shifting to keep his balance. The wind presses against his back alerting him to the nothingness there to catch him if he falls.

They sit in silence again but this time the air is thick and unsettled. Fyodor stares at the ditch with such attentiveness that he hardly blinks.

A pale hand grabs onto the edge of the gentle dip. It grips onto the ground ripping up dirt, the brown sticking out starkly against the near white surface. The putrid smell of decay washes over the area as another arm reaches out of the divot. Vines cling onto ripped muddy brown sleeves.

Slowly a body hauls itself up vines and leaves dragging across the body. Flesh pulls off of it in thick rotting chunks of brownish green stained by the contents of the ditch. Lifeless brown eyes glare into Fyodor`s very soul. A gaping hole in the corpse`s chest is surrounded by the rusty red of dry blood.

"Pay with our burden." The boy croaks his voice comparable to the crackle of a fire.

Fyodor lurches back, his heart pounding in his chest threatening to jump out. His mouth opens but no sound falls out. The tree branch slips out from under him and he plummets to the ground. Air rushes past him, seconds stretch to hours until he finally smashes into the ground all the air escaping his lungs. He gasps painfully, wriggling on the ground to get away. He does not hear the crackle of feet harshly landing on frozen ground on the beat of rapidly moving feet.

The shape of Jessica towers over him clearing Fyodor`s vision. Her eyes are wide as she kneels by him her voice loud and quick as if on the verge of panic, "Oh, god are you ok? Fyodor did you get hurt?"

Fyodor catches his breath. He pushes himself off the herd ground wincing as he rubs the lump on the back of his head. "I am fine." he mutter quickly rising from the ground.

Jessica backs up some, watching him with hazel eyes darkened with worry.

"I have to go," Fyodor starts walking away, he turns back slightly to look at Jessica from the upper right corner of his lowered gaze, "goodbye." He rapidly darts off toward home.

Jessica shoots up watching him go, "W-wait! Fyo-" A small sigh escapes her delicate lips, "Have a good afternoon!" She meanders back toward her home head down. She gently hops over the ditch this time instead of leaping over it.

Fyodor thunders inside slamming the door shut. He dashes to his room with long uneven strides. His breath comes in ragged pants as the world fades from clear to blurry. He passes his sister`s door without a thought disappearing into his own room. He sinks down, the cool door pressing against his back. He glances around the blue walls of his wound until his eyes fall to the dark crack between his bed and the floor. The world freezes as he stares into the not so empty darkness.

Fyodor locks himself in his room for the weekend. He answers no calls and replies to no voice. He will not even let his parents in. Come Monday concern rises as Fyodor still doesn`t leave his room. He doesn`t eat, his stomach hurts too much. A high fever has consumed him over night and made him bedridden. Occasional delusions leave him shouting at nothing and everything. The world fades from him.

Whispers dance around the school. First Sybella now Fyodor? Was something really going around? Did something happen to them? Rumors arose and spread like wildfire, clashing and contradicting like enemies at war the clang of swords meeting as people argue their theories. No one has it right, not even close.

That evening a small knock barely passes through the house. The slow rapping on the door grows a bit louder after there is no response for five minutes. Five minutes more and the door slowly creeks open. a blond hair peers into the dark depths of the shut off house.

"Hello?" A small voice calls in a half whisper.

Jessica.

Fyodor would recognize the sound anywhere. He lifts his head frown his sweat saturated pillow. He watches the door his heart rate matching the slow footsteps downstairs. Shuffling against the wood scratches gently echoing around the quiet house. The silver handle catches the light as it slowly turns. A blond head pops in.

Hazel eyes widen then soften in pity. Jessica slips into the room quietly shutting the door. Slowly she walks in and makes her way over, tip toeing like a child sneaking around where they shouldn`t. A frown slips across her face as she shuffles some papers and places them on a small metal desk in the corner. She grabs the black fold-up chair and walks over setting it next to him.

"Fyodor...is this because of something that happened Friday? You started acting off after we climb the trees." Jessica mumbles.

She stares down at her small hands neatly folded in her lap. Her legs are crossed making them appear slimmer than normal. She shifts in the seat.

Fyodor is silent for a long moment. He has no desire to interact as he recalls that day. An image of Mitchel`s corpse flashes past his eyes. He pales drastically and his spine grows rigid. He just manages to croak out, "It isn`t your fault."

The lie leaves Fyodor`s throat thickly struggling the whole way up clawing at his throat. Why did she bring him to that ditch? Why did she climb over that exact part? She must have seen the decaying body. What if she already knew? What if she knew all along?

"Are you hiding something?" Jessica asks pulling Fyodor from the depths of his cracking mind.

Fyodor snaps his head to look at her with wild steal blue eyes holding so much confusion that it could make any psychologist`s head spin. His breath comes in ragged uncertain gasp, nearing pants as his mind runs ramped.

"I only want to help Fyodor, I`m your friend." Jessica pleads.

Fyodor saw a small smirk in her smile, a wicked smirk. Her eyes sparked with knowledge taunting him with knowledge. She knew! She had too! That is why she invited him over. That is why she started acting closer to him. She knew and she was messing with him. She was sitting there in front of him right now with that wicked smirk dangling her knowledge in his face in such a secretive and politely false smile.

The silence in the room grew as Fyodor`s head spun. Jessica watches the ground peering under his bed. she spots some red across the white carpet her eyes squinting. she tries to determine the source of the rusty color and the slim shape lurking in the darkness.

"What`s under your bed?" She asks slowly pausing between the words.

Fyodor shot up from bed. His eyes wild and ablaze as he towers over the tiny girl. Jessica had fallen upon the floor in shock knocking the chair over and getting slightly tangled in the cool metal of the chair. She quivers under the lumbering male.

"Stop mocking me!" Fyodor roars in sheer rage, his voice booming through the house. "How dare you?!"

Jessica scrambles for the right words to say but without a clue of what`s going on nothing comes to mind. She watches with wide eyes as Fyodor reaches under his bed pulling out the old fire iron covered in rust at one end, no not rust but blood. Tears threaten to spill from her wide hazel eyes. Her irises shake, the pupils but a small pinpoint.

Finally pleading sobs slip uncontrollably from her mouth, "I-I wasn`t mocking you, I swear. P-please just put that away, we can get you help. I won`t tell the cops I swear. I can get someone to help you. We can fix this just please put that down."

"Liar!" Fyodor snaps raising the bloody weapon.

A shrill sound rips through her throat, tearing from Jessica`s vocal cord as she scrambles off the floor. She slips and slides nearly tripping as she straightens up and darts to the door. She quakes her hands slipping around the door knob turning it several time before finally throwing the door open.

Jessica`s powerful legs pump violently as she zips away. Heavy footsteps thud after her beating the ground. Her hair stands on end as the world wizzes past her heart pounds and lactic acid builds up in her limbs but years of soccer has strengthened her lung and extended her stamina. She nearly falls over the mess of blankets and clothes pouring out of the, now open, door of Sybella`s room.

Jessica stumbles forward catching herself against the smooth pale purple wall. She pushes herself and keeps running only to trip over a sold object landing with a rough thump and skidding forward some. The small gaps between the thin board dig into her skin as she runs across the ground gaining the knowledge that rug burns don`t always require rugs. The burning raw skin doesn`t bother her as she looks back toward a hissing sound followed by steady clicks.

Jessica holds back small screams of pain as tiny claws dig through her jeans and into fragile skin. The screams turn from pain to fear as she sees the beast climbing up her leg.

The creature is not much bigger than a small cat. It has a long, thin, ferret like body with thick black fur. It had a long tail with long fur, growing thicker as it nears its end and two large rounded ears. A long goldish snout covered in thick metallic scales protrudes from it`s furry face, containing rows of sharp gleaming teeth. Four medium length legs with similar scales support it as it slips forward, digging in its long silver claws and drawing crimson blood. Gleaming green eyes glare into her very soul as thin membrane, bat like wings, open up from the back lacking fur to hide the pink skin.

The creature rears fire building up in it`s throat. Jessica tries to remove the beast so caught up in the monster she has forgotten the male chasing her. That is she forgot until the creature suddenly flies off.

Jessica looks up quivering, her heart beating in her ears and her head spinning. Sweat slips down her face as she shivers violently. Hazel meets a cold steal blue. The sharp haunting fire poker inches from her face. The beast resting atop in near her face.

"Don`t mock me." Fyodor hisses.

Fyodor lowers the sharp tip to between the divot in her collar bone. Jessica chokes on her sobs and hopeless pleas, the only sound besides her rapid heart beat in the dark house. A burning warmth washes over her chest as the dragon like creature heats up the tip of the weapon.

Weak cries soon fade, replaced by violent yowls and screams of pain. Singing skin and spilling blood taint the once clear air. Vocal cords are torn apart, made raw with cries of grief for a life still there but surely lost.

With the advantage of height, weight, and gravity Fyodor easily slips the end of the fire iron through the female his heart once skipped a beat for. Blood dribbles to the ground as ear busting yowls turn to quiet broken sobs, weak and wheezing. The milk chocolate brown eyes with their wave of green grow dimmer and dimmer.

The corpse falls to the ground with a gentle thud. Fyodor yanks back the weapon, jolting the body and splattering blood across the hallway.

"Go get something to clean this up Sybella, I`ll get rid of the body." Fyodor mumbles with an overwhelming wave of calm.

The small fury dragon hops off of the fire poker. She slips down the hall jumping across the floor in long wave like leaps. Fyodor glances back at the body. He picks it up warmth still seeping from the soft fragile body. He walks outside, plodding towards the ditch. The winter airs bite does not affect his bare arms, the edging numbness fight it off.

Fyodor smells the familiar scent of oak mixed with freshly stirred dirt as he appears that horrid ditch. He walks right past the rising corpse kicking of the weak hand as it clings onto his pants. The movement causes decaying skin to slough off in thin layers. The growing scent of rot fills his nose and churns his stomach. He drops the body carelessly with a solid thud turning away to leave back the corpse, the first step in leaving behind his past.

The door whines as Fyodor walks in. The floor creaks under his slow powerful strides. He walks to his room ignoring the slick red mess. He grabs his long blue trench coat with beige lining. The slips it around him, tucking the fire iron in a loop out of view. He pulls the jacket closed and returns to the mess at hand.

With each step he feels the weight of the fire iron thuds against his leg evoking a sense of comfort. He kneels down by the mess scrubbing it clean in silence. The red substance, thick an warm, slides around with the water refusing to be cleaned up. In the end all that is left are a few light smears across the brown wood.

Fyodor stands his gaze falling around until he spots the small dragon like creature. It glows slightly clinging onto a lamp.

"Come Sybella, we must leave now." Fyodor says.

The creature gives a little squeak like roar. She jumps off of the lamp her wings lifting her up at the last moment. The air stirs as the small animal settles upon his shoulder. She nudges up his collar hiding beneath is warmth, her tail wrapping around her.

Fyodor walks down the hall his boot clad feet thumping in a gentle even rhythm. He walks out the open back door into the chilly winter air. He doesn`t turn back as a car screeches into the drive way, or when screams echo through the house, or when their names are shouted desperately by a voice so familiar yet already far lost in memory. He just walks, his sister, now in a new form, perched upon his shoulder, leaving behind all he has known.

3: Nightmare

~~Three months. Three months since they were normal. Three months since Mitchel went missing. three months since Jessica died, since Fyodor murdered her. Summer is now well underway, the thick and heavy heat smothering all who dare walk out into it unprepared. The sun shines with such ferocity any normal person would cower in fear of its harsh rays and wicked smile.

The heat rises in the air like the gleam on glass still Fyodor bore the heavy coat draped around his shoulders. Sweat pours down his face and back but he pays no mind as he slowly roasts alive. To stay healthy he drinks much more water and, while it provides no comfort, it works well enough to prevent him from passing out as long as he is careful.

On rare days when Fyodor and Sybella have found a place to their liking and worthy of a stay longer than one night Fyodor may risk removing his jacket and stashing his fire poker in whatever inn they occupy for the time being. Those days he found fit to remove his jacket he found himself interacting with a person or two but such interactions he found were more painful than wearing the coat.

Today had been another coatless day but no one dare approach him earlier for his messy hair, worn clothes, and heavy eyes frightened most people off. Nightmares had been plaguing his sleep and preventing true rest, he had no energy to uphold a decent appearance and even less of one to deal with idiots. Luckily the day is rapidly passing and now the lumbering male finds himself resting in the depths of his room.

Fyodor`s cold steal blue gaze settles past the cracked thick green curtains spilling over the dingy window. Between the plethora of stuffy fabric and the clouded view he could just barely make out the setting sun, a sight as sweet as a strawberry, and currently as red as one too. The sun slips out of sight slinking on to guide another poor man`s day. Always at work, always on the run; the thought made Fyodor feel connected to the sun in some way, always running around the world without a break.

After only three months the odd set of twins had traveled thousands of miles, from coast to coast just about and everywhere in between. Each day a new place to run, a new place to hide. Two lost souls chasing...chasing nothing, running. They were running from everything.

Fyodor collapsed back on the old steal framed bed. It groaned and creaked in protest the old springs of the mattress nearly falling to the boy`s weight. The thick comforter and sheets pool around him, messy from a fitful nap earlier and the night before, as Fyodor was too busy to clean up himself and refused to let some nosey housekeeping in.

A quiet rumble and shift across the large bed reminded Fyodor of the small ferret-like, dragon creature perching upon the uncomfortable worn out surface. He glances back from the corner of his eye, looking over a broad shoulder to see a bit of black fur and a long duster like tail disappear bellow the sheets. A large lump scampers around the cool white blanket, a dark spot under such thin fabric.

A sigh escapes Fyodor despite his greatest struggle to withhold the annoying sound he only seem capable of making now.

"You have a point Sybella. Sleep will do me well before we leave early tomorrow, but I fear money is running low. The next stop must be another long stay so I can get a temporary job to bring in more money." Fyodor mumbles as he slips under the flimsy covers.

Her rest his head upon the pillow, glad that this time they could afford a place that was truly clean. Unfortunately the luxuries of better inns costed more money then they really good spare. The gentle hold of the soft cool fabric embraces him gently lulling him to sleep with it delicate touch and the gentle snores of his sisters. His heavy stone eyelids slipped shut for some much needed rest.

~Darkness envelopes him in a tight embrace. On all sides the cold presence presses harshly against him, but not in a manner of harm or violence, instead in a manner to simply alert him of it being there. It shifts and fold around him, bending and swaying like a fluid being sloshed around gently, a sea stirred by the wind.

He holds his breath as it spills over his head only to be eaten away by a dull flame. He takes a dawdling step forward a soft muffled crunched followed by his foot sinking. Snow bites and chews across the bare skin of his feet and ankles. The icy shards give way under his weight daring to devour what it can reach.

He pushes forward ignoring the burning cold against his legs. The fire flickering brighter and hotter as he nears. The smoldering edges that once danced near by shifts from thick black smoke into bright orange flames. The remaining smoke slips and bends arching into thin boney shapes. They stretch and reach out towards him, reaching, grabbing, burning.

A harsh wind rips away the ghostly figures. The flames dash away from the angry air leaving a clear view to a sparkling snowy field. The pristine white land only lays that way for a short time. Feet by the dozens and hundreds march across the ground. Dirty unorganized steps falling with a steady tempo working together despite the different sizes and shapes.

Young and old, men and woman, the weak and strong push through the winter night eyes ablaze with a powerful rage. The bites, burns, and tears from the sour weather do not slow this giant mass. Brought together as one by a simple goal.

Together this death stampede shook the frost bitten and snow blanketed ground. A shiver ran up the boy`s spine as his gaze shifts from the shadowy shape onto their destination.

Standing tall in the middle of the field is a large rotund man. His head held high allowing the unstable flames to illuminate his lower face and cast sinister shadows over an already twisted face. A crooked nose shows signs of being broken too many times and a tick beard holds some grime and grease from a lack of washing in this unmodern terrain.

Long black hair seems to great this beard in a friendly embrace to frame a large round face. Small eyes, a large crooked nose and thick disgusting lips twist into a snarl that could curdle milk. Still the people marched to meet the giant monster towering over them. In the blink of an eye, this glimmer of hope for these dim people, is extinguished with a savage swish of wind.

The air stirs and bends. The stench of burning skin fills his nostrils churning his stomach causing bile to burn his throat. Screams taint the silence of the night spilling from the throats of those mostly gone by the time it reaches it his ears. Ravenous flames eat at all of the protestors with the same hunger and ferocity.

One shrill voice sticks out among the rest, "You will pay! You will pay for your wrong doings! You are no man! You are the monster here! You are the monster and you shall pay! Not in this life time or the next but it will come!"

The ,man does not blink at such threats. He watches with minimal amusement in his dull grey eyes. His face holds no expression, shifting less than that permanently sewn onto a dolls face. Cheers join the cracking voice from those still alive and awake despite the scorching pain.

"You will pay!" The voice shrieks and falters, blood slipping from the blistered and cracking skin. "Your children shall remain unharmed and so shall their children but peace will not stay! Enjoy this lull in your family line because you ten times great grandchildren will suffer our pain! One will feel your guilt! They will face the heartless crimes of your acts again and again, bearing the collar we have worn for centuries! The other shall feel our flames! The flames of our wrath and the flames of our demise! They will be eaten from the inside by your wicked ways and suffer as we have for so long!"

The voice gives out growing weak. Less and less shouts fill the once serene night. The flames crackle and roar as they devour the last sounds of the blistering bodies. Choking on smoke and gurgling boiled blood, the one who dare curse the sinister man falls forward at last. the last to collapse with a fading life. Still with now more souls to burn or feast upon the fire rages determined to finish off the corpses to the very bone. Ash will be all that remains by the time the wicked orange color leaves the night back in it`s tormented darkness.

Fyodor stands in shock trying to digest all he has witnessed. The horrors before his eyes and the sneaky truths dancing in his ears. The images and sounds playing with his fragile mind.

A body rams into him sending him back a few steps. Arms tightly wrap around his upper stomach and a head covered in soft dark hair burying into his upper chest. Tears seep through the shirt he wear chasing off the cold of the night.

It takes a long moment of processing with his overwhelmed thoughts to realize it is Sybella once again in her human state clinging to him with such desperation. Her shoulders shiver and shudder; he can feel her chest heaving against him as she scrambles for comfort or peace of mind. Fyodor wraps and arm gently around her rubbing her back in smooth circles.

"What are we to do?" Sybella croaks out with a voice long forgotten to Fyodor`s ears.

The depressing state of the sweet sound only tugs a deep frown across Fyodor`s face. He searches his exhausted brain for the proper answer as a dull burn constricts around his throat. The feeling amplifies sending a jolt of electricity crossed it as if he got tangled in and electric fence. He parted his dry and splitting lips.

Without a consciences thought he said the words most common to him and his sister.

"I spy with my little eye something..."~