wild imaginations }} Cyrus x Otis

[k!ah]

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The darkness that surrounded me was darkness that I wanted to forget, that I wanted to run away from, far far far away from. I stood in a corner, my feet covered in dirt, my arms and legs smothered with what looked like blood. What was going on? Where am I? Is it his doing? Am I safe? Is Cyrus safe? Questions that seemed so urgent but yet to pointless race through my mind in an endless cycle that made my head spin. I look down at my hands and to my surprise a knife covered in blood was clutched tightly between my fingers. with a screech I send the knife flying, and I fall to the group, my knees collapsing beneath me. What was happening to me? Tears begin to fill my eyes making my vision blurry. My throat hurt in my desperate attempts to hold back the animalistic sobs that tried to escape. What was happening to me?

I needed to get a grip of myself. Slowly I bring my hands to my face where I wipe away the tears, smearing blood and dirt over the delicate white skin that covered my cheeks. Taking a deep breath I managed to regain control of my body and the aching in my throat began to fade. I look around myself, my long dark hair slipping from behind the hold of my a. I sweep it away impatiently. The world seems to have been dulled, colours washed out and weak. It was as though I was looking through an old stained window.In the corner of the room lays a mangled body and to the left- wait what! My eyes back track and there it is. A actual body. My hands begin to shake and the tears that I had been holding back threaten to return.

I climb to my feet, my knees weak and shaky and I wander over to the still form. It wasn't actually a body was it? I mean that didn't happen, not here, not in my home. I was close now, close enough to see that her face was no longer distinguishable, her lips were torn as, her nose almost hacked off what I presume would have been a pretty face. Her chest was bare and covered in deep gashes, gashes that could only have been cause by a k-kinfe. A knife. Images of a bloody knife grasped tightly in my stained hands flashes behind my eye lids.

“no… No no… I- I- I couldn't have done this… no, no not me. I don’t- I don’t hurt people!” The words tumble from my mouth unevenly and I scramble backwards from the mutilated body. The knife No. My hands. No. The body. Was there any other explanation? But how could I of, I couldn't of, I just couldn't of- I can't even bring myself to squad a buzzing fly, I couldn't even bring myself to think about slapping another person across the face- so how? how had this happened? Happened to me?

This time I don't hold back the howl that escapes my lips, or the tears that run endlessly down my face. I had hurt that girl, I had killed her. Me, killed her. I had done it- even after I promised self that never again would I ever hurt a soul. No one deserved it, deserved to go though pain, no one deserved to hurt, not in that physical way. I used words, thats was me. My shield was not my fists, my shield was my words, was the things that I screeched out, my shield, my weapon was not physical pain, but mental. I feared violence, I despised it- so why? why were my hand covered in blood? Why was that gruesome knife in my hands? Why?

Thats when I could do nothing- nothing but-

Suddenly I bolt up in my bed, my heart racing, my throat aching, my face damp with tears and my eyes blurry with fresh tears. I look around myself and the darkness that surrounds me. my room? Was I only dreaming? Instantly I jump out of my bd and race down the corridor to the bath room where I look into the grimy mirror. My face was clean, there was no blood, no fit no nothing. I breath a sigh of relief and bury my face into my hands. I slide down the all until I am sitting in a pile on the ground, my knees pressed close to my chest. “It was all just a dream.”

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Otis Castillo

I will keep you safe, don't you worry, I am here for you.

template by Anzie

[kousei ♚]

Cyrus Castillo

And the moon rises higher, can call me
The end of the cycle has come again
Oh, I am helpless innate.
Awake in the matter next morning
Empty your belly, I can't take my time on a
I am helpless, I'll ...

The darkness sends waves of panic through my body which leaves me unable to sleep. You'd think that since I spent a huge chunk of my life in darkness that I'd be more accustomed to sleeping in it, but it's just the opposite. I'm afraid of sleeping in case he comes back for my blood. So I simply lay there, staring outside of the cracked window at absolutely nothing despite the fact I know I need to sleep. But I just really don't want to, he might visit me again. I'm being stupid, we're far away from that place, far away from him I think.

I don't even know what time it is any more but I know it's late and I should have fallen asleep a long time ago. I can't bare to close my eyes however in case he makes another appearance along with his fists. It's stupid how I'm not afraid to fight any other kids that pick on me yet against him I'm about as helpless as Otis in violent situations. He really did get to me, why else would I be lying here and not sleeping? It took him years to do it but he really wormed his way into my brain and left a never fading mark there. He won.

With that grim thought in mind I wrap my blankets around me just that little bit tighter as if they will protect me from the darkness. They're my best protection. For all I know he could be hiding in that corner right now, staring, waiting for the right time to drag me back home.

I can see it now. "Welcome home Cyrus."

No please don't make me go.

"Oh but I have so much more planned."

No-

The scenario is all too real and that alone is enough to keep me wide awake. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why couldn't I be a normal child? Who would laugh and play all day and then fall asleep after a whole day of enjoying themselves.

The blankets tighten around me, once again as if they're trying to protect me from reality. I need to get up. And with a single swipe off my arm I throw the white blankets off me, it's not as cold as it was before so I don't mind as much, before I'd have to keep my blanket wrapped around myself to travel around the shack. The cold nights were horrible but we got through them. And yet I can't even get through this, what's wrong with me? I don't even know what to think of this situation any more, I mean yes, we have freedom I guess, no more constant fear, no more constant darkness and entrapment followed by severe pain every single day.

I always dreamed of being free and no doubt it beats living there any day. But he might come back. He might drag me by the hair back, he might find us and kill us for running away, even though it has been years since we left; he never forgot, he never forgave. Even these very thoughts send my mind into a panicked frenzy, the scenario playing in my head over and over. I've long since given up on calming myself down so I can sleep because I know that was never going to happen.

As I slowly take the first step I hear the sudden sound of the door creaking, it's been swung open and then rough, heavy but quick footsteps, then another door opening and closing. Who's there? Could it be an intruder? Did my nightmares come true? A burst of panic fills my mind yet again and I take quick steps towards the noise, despite the fact I probably got there in about five seconds it felt more longer, the floorboards rapidly making creak sounds. Each creak of the floorboard is like a thunderclap in my head because I'm so afraid of someone bursting out of the bathroom door.

When I find myself face-to-face with the door I bite my lip softly. I quickly grab the handle and swing it open, ready to lash out if need be. "WHO'S THERE?!" I call out, only to find no one other than Otis sitting there, her back leaning against the wall and her face buried in her hands but I've been with her long enough to just know it's her. All my silly panicking was for nothing. We're safe here, he can't possibly find us again. But what immediately comes to my attention is why Otis rushed her in such a hurry and why her body language seems to say she's so distressed.

"Otis? What's wrong?" I ask, allowing myself to slowly take a seat on the cold bathroom floor.

Narrative
Thoughts
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[k!ah]

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"just a dream..." But it had felt so real. Closing my eyes for a moment I cease to realise the tears that begin to fall from my eyes. I had held that knife in my hands, bloody. And it was me who had committed to that crime of violence, I had mutilated that girl.... Why? Why did I do it? No I didn't do it, it was all just a dream, it meant nothing... a nightmare at the most... Silently I try to rein in my tears, my breathing ragged and uneven. I had to calm down. I take a deep breath my hands hastily wiping away the last of my tears. I needed to be stronger, to be a stronger peon. I had to be stronger for myself, for Cyrus. Taking another breath the tears cease to flow, my hands patting away the last of the salty water.

Sighing I hug my legs closer my chin resting on my knees. My heart was still racing, and all I could hear was its rapid beating. I close my eyes and focus on the beating of my heart. I listen as it begins to calm down. It was no longer racing, but a gentle, systematic, beating, just how it should be. I dont open my eyes though, I dont loosen the grop on my legs. My body stays tense, almost as thouh it was made of stone and the only things that was moving, the only thing that was proof of me living, was the genlt tatap tatap of my beating heart.

outside I hear the gentle creaks of the floorboards and my whole body become alert. My eyes flash open and my chin leaves its resting place on my knees. Was someone out there? Frowning, I am move to climb to my feet. But just when I do someone comes crashing into the room with an all mighty war cry- "WHO IS THERE?!" I almost scream my heart, once again, racing ever so fat in my small chest- like a bird trapped and so desperate to escape. It takes me a moment to realise who stands at the door a bat clasped tightly between his long fingers. Its cyrus. I breathe a sigh of relief and begin to allow my body to relax again, my hands clasping my legs tightly.

I barely hear the soft pat of his feet against the tiles as he moves to sit next to me- or his gentle voice as he asks me what is wrong. I didn't want to look at him though, I wanted to be on my own, I had to face this on my own. But his gentle coaxing broke me and once again fresh tears begin o spilling rom the cold ocean of my eyes. "Cyrus, its nothing, I am fine," I try to tell him but sobs begin to rack over me. Why was I crying in front of him? For so long I had appeared to be so string, always putting him before myself, always smiling, always showing him how strong I was, to make him feel safe... but here I was now, tears of my pain falling down my cheeks.

"its... its... I am sorry," I whisper, pulling my hands away from my face and for the first time looking him in the eye. "I am sorry that I am so weak.... I was meant to be strong, I had to be strong... for you... But look at me now- I am a mess, I am so weak," my voice breaks as I try to force the words to spill from my lips. "I am so sorry," I was so weak, how could I protect him? How could I look after him after I break down after a small nightmare? A shiver runs through my body as I remember the girls mutilated face, or her still lifeless body. Weak A voice call ed to me and my body begins to shake. I needed to protect him. Taking in a deep breath I force my tears to stop, I try and collect myself, I try and put on a brave face. "I am fine," I was meant to say i with a strong confident voice, but instead it comes out as a broken whisper.

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Otis Castillo

I will keep you safe, don't you worry, I am here for you.

template by Anzie

[kousei ♚]

Cyrus Castillo

And the moon rises higher, can call me
The end of the cycle has come again
Oh, I am helpless innate.
Awake in the matter next morning
Empty your belly, I can't take my time on a
I am helpless, I'll ...

I don't know why but tears start spilling down her cheeks once again, like miniature tears spilling down her cheeks. "Cyrus, its nothing, I am fine," She tries to say despite it being painfully obvious she is the exact opposite of fine. If she was fine she'd be in bed sleeping -or at least trying to sleep like I was- but she's obviously not fine. If she was fine she wouldn't be tearing up and sobbing for no apparent reason. Broken. The first time I've ever seen Otis appear remotely weak. But now she seems like a broken thing that can't even explain her problems.

This is the first time I've seen Otis cry in a long time, and I mean a really long time. She always seemed to be invincible, I never saw her being vulnerable, never, ever. Despite the fact I know we've been through the exact same thing. She just seems to have dealt with it so much better than I ever could have. After all, she's the one was freed us, I had nothing to do with that. She saved our lives. She's the sister that saved our lives, the sister that always puts me first. Until now I'd never seen her cry.

She never uses violence but she's stronger than I could ever be.

You've got me, me who cries out in fear every time he has a dream he didn't like. Me, who is too afraid to sleep because it's very dark. And she always came running in whenever I was feeling vulnerable, or angry or hurt. Better person than I could ever be. Honestly, it should be me standing there, huddled up on the floor sobbing, having endless rivers running down cheeks and spilling onto the floor. And it's somehow not. I don't know how I've stayed put together all this time and Otis is only just beginning to break.

"Its... its... I am sorry," She whispers, and she pulls her hands away from her face, revealing her tear stained face and reddened eyes. Broken. Is the first word that comes to mind when I see the state of her, it's actually really sad when I think about it. She was always the strong one. I was the violent one but I don't know if that actually made me any stronger than my sister. I've tried to keep myself together; I have tried very hard to keep myself all there.

But still, she doesn't need to apologise to me. She hasn't done anything wrong, right? At least I hope she hasn't. "I am sorry that I am so weak.... I was meant to be strong, I had to be strong... for you... But look at me now- I am a mess, I am so weak," Her voice is badly fragmented. "I am so sorry," She says but I still stay silent despite me badly wanting to tell her she doesn't need to be sorry. She's stronger than me, I know she is.

The fact she seems to feel this ongoing obligation to be there for me, to protect me. We protect each other, we're strong for each other. Isn't that how it works? Isn't that how it's supposed to be? We're always there for each other, when she breaks I'm there and when I break she's there. I still don't know what to say to her needless apology, because honestly I'm shocked and that shock seems to be taking over my brain and my freedom of speech. I've never heard her sound so broken.

"It's okay, you-you-" I begin but I don't know how to finish. She takes a deep breath, trying to stop herself from crying. But she's not fine. But she seems to be trying to tell me otherwise. "I am fine," she tries to say, but even her trying to tell me she's fine just seems to sound even more broken than before. She is definitely not fine! It's hurtful, the fact she can't tell me what's wrong, the fact she's trying to hide and lie to me. If it were anyone else I'd be angry but with her, it's just hurtful, very hurtful. It's more painful than his fists against my ribs.

"Otis, I thought we didn't lie to each other," I begin calmly, almost whispering, "please, let me help you, like you always helped me." Like she always helped me, I want to help her, I owe her that much.

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[k!ah]

OTISCASTILLO

Weak. Weak was a word that was associated with someone who broke easily, a word that meant you were unable to carry on by yourself. Weak was the term used when someone was pathetic, a waste of space. Weak was a word that I would use to describe me and my actions right at this moment. Usually I would be able to swiftly pull myself together, I would be able to pick up my broken pieces and mend myself without much of a second glance. But today, tonight, I just couldn't pull myself together.

Was it because I had held back for so long now? Was it a metaphor? Take a pice of wood for example you could only put so much on it before it broke. Or a bottle filled with soda, you could only put so much pressure on it before it exploded. For me, I could only hold back, bottle away my feelings for so long. I wasn't invincible, no one was. Did that make me weak? Or was it that I had just broken? That I had just reached my limits ad could go no further. That was not the definition of weak but broken.

I drop my head, my knees falling away from my chest so that a leg was on either side of me, so that my knees were pressed against the cool hard cement of our bathroom floor. The dream- no nightmare- was my tipping point, it was what had broken me… would I be able to mend myself? would I be able to pick up all of the pieces? It wont be the same as the other times, they were just cracks compared to this. This was broken, snapped off clean before falling to the ground and shattering into tiny pieces that could be scattered all over the place. No I cant think like that. I could pick them up, and I would, and I will put them back together and I will become the strong sister that my brother needs.

By now I had managed to cease the flow of tears, my face sticky from the last of them. Hastily I wipe them away and take a deep breath, trying to calm the wild, frantic, beating of my heart. I could do it, I could be that person, that one that he looked up to that he needed. This moment of weakness was nothing- a moment of weakness, yes, that is exactly what it was. Gently I run my arm over my face trying to pat it dry, and then he speaks.

He had been so quiet, this whole time. What had been running though his mind? Was he disgusted in my behaviour? Did he think I looked weak and pathetic, that I was the one who needed someone to rely on? Did he think that I was a broken toy, one that he could now throw away… because if I am broken I can no longer help him. Desperately I look up at him, my face frantic. I look into his face, his eyes, to try and see how he was feeling, to try and read his thoughts… I had expected to see anger, disappointment and disgust so you can only imagine my surprise when I see that the only thing written all over his features is hurt.

Instantly my face collapses once again. I close my eyes, my dart hurting- but not in the same way that it did after the nightmare- but in a different way. A more painful, more personal way. I drop my face so that when I open my eyes I am looking at my hands and not my brothers hurt face. “Otis, I thought we didn't lie to each other.” The words are like an arrow to the heart. I thought we don't lie to each other. We didn't. I wasn’t. I was… I just didn't want to tell him, to frighten him… He didn't need to know- did he? "Please, let me help you, like you always helped me.”

At that my heart feels like it is being torn in two and it takes everything I have not to let tears fall from the safety of my eyes. For so long I had been the one to help him, I had been the one who was standing over him, holding him tight and giving him advice when he needed it… Now he wanted to help me, he wanted to he the one who was the comforter, the one that would sure my pain…

“Its… nothing- it was just a nightmare,” I say changing my mind halfway. “It was just a nightmare, a nightmare that- that just scared me a little. Nothing serious…”

Flash of blood.

Mangled body.

ripped skin.

bloody hands.

“Just a nightmare,” I whisper.

[kousei ♚]

CYRUSCASTILLO

And the moon rises higher, can call me
The end of the cycle has come again
Oh, I am helpless innate.
Awake in the matter next morning
Empty your belly, I can't take my time on a
I am helpless, I'll ...

My words seem to have got to her, broken through the stone wall like a battering ram. We don't lie to each other, I don't think I've ever lied to Otis before, at least not in any recent memory. We're better than that. What kind of brother would I be if I didn't trust her? Not a very good one, throughout all these years I trusted Otis like she was the only person in the world. She was the only person in my world until I met Azea. But the fact that she feels she can't tell me, she can't trust me to know what's upset her so badly, what's broken her like she's nothing but a piece of glass.

It hurts.

She begins wiping the tears spilling from her eyes with her shaky hands. As if she can't even bare to look at me and know how I feel. There's an agonizingly long silence after she finished drying up her tears with her sleeve and choking down her sobs as if she can hide it from me. I say nothing, just staring at her while sitting down next to her and I'll stay here as long as she needs me to. What kind of person would I be if I didn't? The silence is agonizing, painful because I don't know what she's thinking.

And then it breaks.

“Its… nothing- it was just a nightmare,” She tries to explain. But she doesn't seem to understand, it's not nothing, if it was truly nothing she would've just went back to bed, she wouldn't have ran here and started sobbing, if it was nothing she wouldn't have tried to hide it from me. We don't do that to each other. She's trying to lie to me again, I thought we had gotten past the whole lying thing. Was I so wrong? She keeps on trying to pass it off as nothing but this is not nothing. The nightmare must have been something truly horrible.

“It was just a nightmare, a nightmare that- that just scared me a little. Nothing serious…” She tries to explain yet again. Sometimes I feel like she still views me as a child, a little child who can't fend for himself and must be shielded and baby'd through life. I'm not that kid any more. The way she won't let me inside, trying to pass off her problems as nothing as if I'm too young to understand. We went through exactly the same thing together. She just got us out of it. And from that day on we were always protecting each other, she just protected me more and I barely did, she didn't need my help, or anyone's help for that matter.

But now she needs help. Now she needs help and she's constantly shutting me out, when I have to help, it's not a want it's a need. “Just a nightmare,” She whispers, but I'm not sure if she's convincing me or convincing herself at this point. Probably the latter. "Otis, don't lie to me," I say rather flatly, "it's- it's not nothing, it must have been really horrible, you can tell me about it." I'm almost pleading at this point. "I'm-I'm not a kid any more." I press on more urgently.

"Otis, tell me all about it."

[k!ah]

OTISCASTILLO

“Otis, don’t lie to me.” Lie. Never in this wold had I ever thought that I’d lie to Cyrus, but here I was. Sitting in one heaped mess, my mind not allowing me to explain to my brother that this nightmare had felt so real, so much more than just a petty nightmare. I take a deep breath, and look t the ground once again, this time, only small tears forming in the comers of my eyes. I didn't need to sob, because now I was crying over guilt, and tears of gulf didn't need to thrusted from my eyes followed by loud animalistic sounds… "it's- it's not nothing, it must have been really horrible, you can tell me about it.” I can hear the pleading in his voice, the way he begs me to open up to him, to let him in… after all he had always let me in, I didn't even need to say a word for him to open up to me- I could just hold his hand, or hug him tightly and he would break, words slipping from his mouth like a crack in a fish bowl.

"I'm-I'm not a kid any more.” His words make me freeze, my eyes widening as I keep my stare locked into the dirty cement floor. I could hear the desperation in his voice as he insisted that he was no longer a kid. But is that how I have always looked at him, as a child? For so long I have been trying to shelter him from the real world, after all he had already experienced more than his share… But had I ever treated him like an adult? My equal? No. No because I have always wanted to protect him. But he was 15 now, and maybe it was time that I took that step back, maybe it was time for me to allow him to grow up. But I didn't want to, I still wanted to protect him, I didn't want him to see some f the things thais world did to those who were small and insignificant…

"Otis, tell me all about it.” His voice seems so small, so innocent in this cruel world. How could I do it? How could I reveal the gruesome harsh reality of my dream to my little brother?

Sighing I turn my teary gaze back to the boy in front of me. I remembered when he was small enough to walk, the way our father had stormed into the room ready to start beating the boy to a pulp… I had thrown myself in front of him, the name fist not hitting his soft toddler flesh, but my slightly more tougher flesh. I had screamed at him to stop, to leave Cyrus alone, I had screamed that he was only a kid. But if he was only a kid back then, what would it make him now?

That would make him no longer a kid. A frown fights its way onto my forehead and I reach my hand out so that I could catch his, seeking comfort from his touch. “Ok. Fine, I’ll tell you.” I say so quietly that I was not to sure that Cyrus had even heard me. Taking a deep breath I try and calm the racing of my heart as my mind remember the horrible scene that had unfolded in front of me. “It was dark, so so dark- so dark I wasn't even sure I knew where I was. and- and I was crying- you see I am not comfortable in the dark… ever since- you know when- darkness has always scared me a little. But, but that wasn't why I was so scare, Cyrus. There was blood on my hands… The blood was warm, and it didn't belong to me… SO I had looked up, and then the next thing I know a life is in my hands- and the knife is also covered in blood, the same blood that was on my hands.

And I began o freak out, I threw the knife and my chest began to burn as my heart raced…” My voice catches as I remember looking up to see the body, the mutilated face, indistinguishable. “and… and then there was a body. It was so still, so lifeless. And I didn't know what to do, where to look, or run, or hide. So I walked up to the body and when I looked down- when I looked down the face was slashed and mutilated and it was just a horrible mess- you have to understand, it was horrible. Where the eyes should have been there was nothing but deep slash marks, so of the face itself had been ripped off!”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the fear that cursed through me like wild fire. “But thats wasn’t the worse part- the worst part was that it was my fault. I- me- had been the one who had done this to the girl…” Tears had begun to leak out of my eyes once agin and I struggled to keep my voice calm, hiccups interfering as I fought to stay in control of my body. “I had killed her, me.” It had felt so real.