Well, here we go. This is the first one I ever posted, but far from the first one I've ever written, though I've been on hiatus for a number of years.
Please, play nice. I know it's not great.
*takes a deep breath*
Attempted Fratricide, Murder, Possesion.
Normal 'Thought' report "Call in/over phone/ect."
Oh, a note: I took their surname from the Japanese version and just sorta pasted it onto their english names. Meh, it works.
It's a peaceful Saturday afternoon at One-Fifty-Seven Whitehall Street, Apartment D5. Kim Bruce lies back on his bed, gazing wistfully at the whitewashed ceiling. The sweet scent of lilacs wafts into the small sleeping quarters of the single bedroom flat on the gentle summer breeze. The Afternoon sun shines through the lace curtains, bathing the room in an almost ethereal white light. Billie Holiday and Dean Martin sing "Baby, Its Cold Outside" on the nearby Victrola. The picture of comfort. The 45 rpm clicks. It's at its end. Kim's eyes go dim, and he raises, unsteadily to his feet. He shuffles like a zombie into the bathroom across the hall where Kai was taking his Saturday bath. The fatter brother looks up, irritated that his shorter brother has interrupted his time of contemplation and reflection.
"What the h*ll are you doing in here, Kim? You know I'm taking a bath. Get out." he says. Kim doesn't. Instead, he moves, in a trance, to the medicine cabinet and takes out a straight razor. It had belonged to their father many years ago. It was dull and a little rusty, but it was the only memento they had left of Indarion. "Kim...what are you gonna do with that razor?" he asks, fear creeping into his voice, as he shifts in the wrought iron claw foot bathtub. Kim staggers over to his brother, his eyes empty. "Kim!?" Kim swings the blade at his overweight brother and misses. Kai scrambles out of the tub quickly and darts towards the door, trying to escape. The redhead swings the blade again, this time making contact with Kai's right love handle. Blood spills out, and he screams in pain. He tries to get out of the bathroom, but in his panic, he tugs at the locked door, being slashed all the while, until he realizes it's still locked. He shoves Kim to the floor and unlocks the bathroom door. Kim slashes Kai's Achellies Tendon and he goes down. Kim raises and staggers back to their bedroom as Kai drags himself to the living room.
As Kai reaches the living room, his strength falters, and he gives up. Only a moment later, Kail returns home, his arms laden down with groceries. He drops them as soon as he sees his eldest brother, lying face down and naked on their light brown living room floor, a halo of blood around him. Kail runs to him.
"Kai! Kai! Wake up! Look at me, damn it!" he says as he lifts him. The fat one opens his eyes weakly and gazes at his blue haired brother. "What the hell happened?" he asks. "Who the f*ck did this to you?!"
"Kim...Kim's still here...I...I think he...went back to our room....." Kail lays him back down.
"I'll be right back, I swear! Don't die!" he darts down the bloodied hall to their room. In there, he finds Kim on his knees in the middle of the floor. He's taken his shirt off. A small scarlet puddle has formed around Kim's knees. He mutters incoherently as he carves esoteric symbols on his forearms. Kail runs to his elder brother. "KIM! Kim, what the hell are you doing!?" Kim turns to Kail, his light blue eyes dulled and empty. His head swivels at an unnatural angle. He sets the razor blade down and walks to the window with the same shuffling gait as before. A moment later, he collapses to the worn, hard wood floor beneath. As if being snapped out of a trance, Kail immediatly goes and calls the police. He sits back beside his brother, and against his better judgment, drapes an old afghan over Kai's unclothed body. Moments later, the police arrive. A rookie is overcome by the scene of blood loss and viscera. He apprehends the still unconscious Kim and waits out in the patrol car while the senior officers bag and tag the dulled razor, photograph the blood splatter and smears, and take samples of that same blood. Of course, Kail and Kai didn't see this, no. They had been rushed to the hospital.
It had been a very hectic day for the Bruce family. Kai now lie in a private room, his youngest brother sitting in an armchair, watching a late night sit com. The cool night air blew in through an open window and filled the room with the pleasant odour of the twilight. The doctors had managed to staunch Kai's wounds, and a blood transfusion had saved him, but he was still a little sore, despite the pain medication they had administered to him. Stitches criss-crossed his overweight form and his supple round face. After the hours of dead silence, Kai asks a question, his voice groggy, with a croaking, frog-like quality to it:
"Kail...do I look okay?" he asks. He had not seen himself yet. Kail looks over at his eldest brother. The gashes were deep enough that Kai's face and body would be forever marred by thick, fish belly white scars. He would never be the same again. Kail tries to feign a smile.
"You, eh, you look great, Kai..." he says, his voice saccharine and full of fake sweetness. He couldn't bear to tell Kai that he looked as if someone had put him through the shredder. Kai gives a weak, strained smile.
"Nah, I don't. My face is all stitched up....thank you for saying that, though..." he says. He breaks into silent tears. "Why would Kim do this to me?" he asks no one in particular. "I--I didn't do anything to him, why'd he have to.....to.......to try to.....kill me?" He cries softly, and Kail pats the side of the bed, not wanting to touch his brother's wounded back. The three of them had been put through so much as children, it seemed unfair for something like this to befall them again. They had lost their parents at an early age, and were sent to live with their abusive uncle. Kai had suffered the worst under their uncle Peter's hands, being beat, bound, and locked in a small, hallway closet for days at a time. Kai had never fully recovered from that act alone. Kail was brought back down from his sky larking when a thin, somewhat older orderly entered the room with a tray of food.
"Yeah, hullo?" He asks. "Is this Kai Bruce's room? I was supposed to bring him his dinner, now."
"Yeah, you got the right room." Kail says, a little distant. He raises to his feet. He was going to go downstairs and find something to eat. Under normal circumstances, he would have to leave now, but he had made arrangements to stay the night with his older brother. They both needed company. He leaves the room, promising to return shortly.
On his way to the cafeteria, Kail stops in the deserted Hospital Chapel. He slips into a tarnished wooden pew. He rests his head in his hands, his tousled blue hair falling around his fingers. His shoulders rock rhythmically with his silent sobs.
"Mom....Dad.....Grandma....Are you there...?" Kail asked the void. "What am I supposed to do? Kim's...Kim's hurt Kai. He nearly killed him. Kai...I think he would have died if I didn't come home when I did. He's trying to stay strong, but I don't know if I can handle it. Kim's in jail, awaiting trial...Kai will have to testify against him. We've been in court too many times. This is just too much...please, help. I need it...I can't do this...I can't do this alone..." A nurse places her hand on Kail's shoulder, and he jumps.
"You're Kail Bruce, Kai Bruce's younger brother, right?" He quickly wipes away his tears and nods. "Well, the cafeteria will be closing soon. If you want something to eat, you better get down there quick. We've already made enough accomodations for you, letting you stay here with your brother, long after visitation hours have passed." He regains his composure.
"Yes, ma'am. I'll be on my way." He says.
Kim Bruce sits, uneasily, in a psychological profiler's office. A wood panel clock ticks in the background. Dr. Avery Frost sits, silent across from Kim, a note pad in hand. He was a demure man with somber brown eyes and greying hair. Kim eyed him, nervously. He didn't like 'head-peepers', very much, and the treatment he'd received earlier as he was entered into the prison system had served to temper his spirits. He had been deloused and his head shaved. He was dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, and his skin was still light pink from the hoses being turned on him earlier.
"So, why am I here?" He asks. Dr. Frost looks up from his note pad. He had been scribbling something for the past five minutes.
"The confession you gave said you didn't have control of your body when you attacked your older brother. You're here so I can see if you're competent enough to stand trial." He smiles. His was a fake, empty smile used to try to reassure the criminals he was set to evaluate. "Can you tell me about that afternoon?"
"I remember lying in bed, looking at the ceiling, listening to an old 45. The song ended, and I got up to my feet and went into the bathroom. I remember taking out dad's old razor and going over to Kai. It all passed like a dream. He....he tried to escape, but I just kept cutting him. No matter how much he screamed and pleaded with me to stop, I couldn't. I just kept cutting him...It was like someone else was doing this, forcing me to watch. I...I just couldn't stop...." he struggled to hold back tears. Dr. Frost continues to scribble some things into his notes. He looks up after a minute or two.
"When did you lose control of your body?"
"After the record stopped." Avery blinks and goes back to his notes. After a short span of time, he looks back to the red haired brother.
"Had that ever happened to you before, Kim?" he asks. The short one shakes his head.
"No, Doctor. This was the first incident." he says, calmly. The doctor jots that down.
"I'll be honest with you. I may have enough here to try for a temporary insanity plea. Gaston LaFayette is your prosecuter. I know that ol' cajun son of a b*tch, and he'll press for the death penalty. You'll spend the rest of your life in an insane asylum, but that's better than going to death." He narrows his eyes and laces his fingers. "Don't tell anyone I told you that. It'd be a conflict of interests." He looks over to the clock. "Your time here is up. An officer will be taking you back to your cell soon, Kim." He says, quietly. After fifteen minutes of dead silence, a short, pudgy officer comes in and escorts Kim back to his cell, and Dr. Frost begins his report.
Male, age 20. Confessed to attempting to murdering his older brother in cold blood. Says he remembers the incident, but had no control of his body during the incident. Patient stated that it 'was like someone else doing it, and [I] was being forced to watch'. He says that this was the first time this happened to him. I suspect schizophrenia, although with schizophrenia there is often no recollection of the events that transpire during a fugue. Dissociative Disorder also possible. I suggest he spend time in a Mental Hospital for further evaluation.
A plain white room. That's all Kim Bruce had to look at all day long. A plain damned white room. It had been several days since he'd been sent to Greenwood Mental Hospital in Lavender Town. Kim had to get out of there. He had been sitting in the rear corner of the room, staring, unblinking, at the door for the past two hours. When he was brought there, they had taken his orange jumpsuit and dressed him (Though he was perfectly capable of dressing himself) in blindingly white clothes, the words "GREENWOOD MENTAL HOSPITAL PATIENT NUMBER: GW45591" printed in black on the back of it. Nut wear, he called it.
'In a half-hour, I'll get to go outside...There's a tree near the east wall of the fence out there...I'm gonna climb out of this sh*t hole.' he thinks to himself. It probably wouldn't work. He'd likely be caught, but Kim had to do something. He knew where he would be sent if he was found to be insane, Bellevue Home For The Criminally Insane in the Sinnoh. 'The Security here is sh*t' he thinks, trying to reassure himself that his plan will work, 'I should be able to make it to the outskirts of town before they realize I'm gone...that'll give me enough time to change my clothes and find a place to hide until nightfall. Easier to move under cover of darkness...' He rests his head on his knees and waits for the time he will be taken out to the yard. Finally it came, and he was escorted outside by an orderly. It was a lovely day, really. The sun hung delicately in it's lofty heights, the light unmolested by clouds. The hydrengeas growing outside the west door filled the mid July air with their fragrance, and nearby, pachirisu romped and played in the huge walnut trees. It was rather pleasant, and the soft breeze added to the ambiance of the yard. He'd picked a wonderful day to flee. He had stolen one of the other patient's medication, and swapped it with another's--that would provide the distraction--he hoped. Surely enough, not even fifteen minutes after being brought into the yard, Arless, one of the older patients, snapped and attacked one of the male nurses. Kim stepped backwards, edging ever closer to the tree. Once he was far enough away from the commotion, he took off running. Scrambling up the tree, he dove over the fence and ran, as hard as he could go, to the outskirts, towards Saffron City. After about twenty minutes of running, he spots a small house. There are clothes hanging on a clothes line. They blow in the gentle breeze, beckoning Kim to them. He scrambles over the white pickett fence and falls to the damp earth below. Apparently, it had been raining sometime in the near past. Carefully, he picks himself up and scampers to the low shrubbery near by. As he crouched down in the mud, he felt something wash over him. Kim lost control of his body, just as before, and rose to a standing position.
'What!? Oh God damn it! Not again! F*ck! No! No! No!' Kim thinks, trying to will himself away from the object of his controller's desire, the gleaming axe stuck in an aging stump, not two feet from where the clothing billowed in the summer breeze. He shuffles, dragging his slipper-covered feet through the mud. With a strength he did not possess, Kim drew the axe from it's resting place and wandered into the unlocked dutch door of the small home.
"Hello? Young man, can I help you?" says a short, whisper thin woman with wispy grey hair and horn-rimmed eye glasses says to Kim, looking up from an oven.
'No! No, you son of a b*tch! She's just an old lady! Don't make me do this!' Kim thinks as his body is piloted over to the venerable woman. He raises the axe, and she tries to run, but her arthritic joints slow her, and he catches her in the back of the head with the recently polished blade. Blood and bits of skull and brain splatter on the lemon yellow walls and linoleum flooring. Placing his foot on the corpse, he wriggles the blade until it is free of the old woman and turns to a small room a couple of doors over. There was stirring from within it.
"Mildred?" an elderly man's voice calls out. "Mildred, who's here? Is everything okay?" Kim can hear shuffling and a door nob turn. His controller moves his body, quickly, to the inside corner, near the door. A moment later, a white-haired old man in a light brown cardigan and tan corduroy slacks passes by Kim, completely ignorant to the diminutive redhead's presence. In a quick, fluid motion, he strikes the back of the old codger's knees, bringing him down. He kicks the old man over onto his back. The old man's aged brown eyes gaze up at the short young man, standing above him, grasping the axe that killed his beloved, and would soon rob him of his life, as well. He says nothing, and Kim swings the axe in a high arc, bringing it to bear on the old man's chest. Bones splinter and hot blood splatters on Kim's clothing and face. The feeling of being puppeteered dissipates from Kim's frail form. A sickness and feeling of impending dread replaces it, and Kim rushes to the small bathroom. After a few moments of sobbing and vomiting, he stands and hastily strips his asylum uniform off, casting it into the garbage. He scrubs the blood from his peach-coloured flesh until it turns a dark pink. Wrapping a towel around his nude waist, he walks into the old couple's bedroom, searching the closet for some acceptable clothing. It takes him a few moments, but he finds some clothes that wouldn't look overly awkward and over sized on his short, scrawny form. His next destination would be far from that small house on the outskirts of Lavender Town.
It had been two days since he had escaped Greenwood Mental Hospital. He had died his hair black and trimmed his eyebrows back. The clothes he had stolen were over sized on his thin, short body, but still, no one would guess that he was Kim Bruce, escaped mental patient. He sat, alone, at the back of a small diner in Celadon. He looked up at the small TV on the counter. There was a picture of him on the news.
Escaped mental patient and suspected double murderer Kim Bruce is still at large, and police urge you to report any information you may have on his whereabouts to your nearest precinct. He is considered dangerous, and if you see him, you should not try to bring him into custody on your own.
The reporter's words continued, but they all blurred into one as Kim began to drift.
'Son of a b*tch, not again!' he thought. He was losing control, albeit much less suddenly than last time. He rose to his feet and started to stumble, almost drunkenly, to the kitchen, where only a single worker remained. 'No! No, damnit to hell! Hey, a*sshole! If you can hear me, I don't wanna do this! Isn't it enough you made me attack my brother and murder that old couple!? Don't make me do it again!' He took up a gleaming butcher's knife and walked, slowly, to the short order cook standing at the sink, washing the last of the dishes from that evening.
"Sorry, kid, we're closed." she said. "You need to get out." She was a portly, middle aged woman with short blond hair and calculating green eyes. Her back was still turned to him. "Hey, did you hear me, boy? Get out." she turns to him, and he catches her in the neck with the knife. She goes down, and he continues to stab, her blood splashing his face. After the bloody business had reached it's end, Kim dropped the blade and stood back. He knew he had only a few minutes before someone would discover what he had done, so he cast the bloodied blade into the grease trap and stripped himself down, wadding the clothing and shoving them into a worker's locker. He scrubbed himself fervently in the same sink in which the short order cook had been washing dishes. Rummaging around, he found a change of clothes, and quickly crawled out the bathroom window. Only a moment later, Officer Edward King entered the diner. It was his favorite little greasy spoon, and he wanted to get a nice cup of coffee and a hamburger to wind down from his shift.
"Hey, Edith! It's me, Ed, get my regular ready." He calls. No reply. "Edith?" This wasn't like her. Normally, Edith would be right through those doors, telling Ed all about the a*shole customers that had come in that day. But today, nothing. Just silence and mindless chatter of the television. He doesn't like this. Officer King gets up, uneasily, and draws his .38 special. "Edith? Edith, if your in there, answer me. I'm comin' in hot." He pauses outside of the door for a moment, and kicks it in. He is immediately taken by surprise at the blood drenching the walls, ceiling, floor, and appliances in the small, sweaty kitchen. "My God...what happened here?" he asks. His eyes drift to Edith's corpse, and his question is answered. Ed kept his composure and went to Edith, gun still in hand. Her blood was still warm, and steam still hung in the air. The killer may still be nearby. Ed bolted out the backdoor.
'Damnit, stupid! Why the hell did you hang around, especially when you heard someone come in?' Kim reprimands himself. 'You make stupid mistakes like that, and you deserve to die. Don't stand here, numb-nuts, run. RUN!' He runs, blindly. He doesn't care where he ends up, just as long as it's far away from that diner.
"Hey! Stop!" Officer King calls out. "Damnit to hell, Stop! Police!" he chases after the short young man. Kim's reached the end of the road. Nowhere to go. Below him lies the rushing waves of the sea. He backs up against the guard-rail as the officer closes in on him. "No where to run, right, boy?" he says. He studies the young man's face for a moment, and his eyes widen. "You're Kim Bruce!" he exclaims. "You little b*stard, you killed Edith, didn't you!?"
"I didn't ha--"
"Oh, shut the hell up! A lot of people might, but I don't believe that psycho bullsh*t. You knew full damned well what you were doing when you attacked your brother, and you knew what you were doing when you killed Edith. I ought to kill you right where you stand." he holds the gun on Kim.
"You can't! Please, don't kill me!" he cries out, terror in his voice.
"I can say you attacked me. I'm a cop, you're an escaped lunatic. Who'd question me?" He shuts one eye and squeezes the trigger gently. Three shots strike Kim in the chest, he falls, blood still oozing from his wounds. Ed walks to him, looking down on the dead boy. He calls in on his radio. "Yeah, Charolette, it's me, Ed. I caught that escaped loony, Kim Bruce." he pauses, listening to the dispatcher's response. "Nah, he attacked me, and I had to put him down....I'm okay. Send the meat wagon for this one...Officer King, over and out." He narrows his eyes and kicks Kim's lifeless body. "That was for Edith, you little son of a b*tch."
After about a half hour, the coroner arrives on the scene. He stands within the gleaming headlights, talking to Edward.
"Yeah, Carl, I tell ya, it was rough. The little d*ck killed Edith, so I chased him out of the diner, trying to catch him. He was a fast b*stard, though, and I was way behind him, screamin' 'Stop, police!', you know, that sh*t we're supposed to yell, but he kept goin'. He ran all the way out here, and I guess he was like a cornered animal. He attacked me as soon as I got to him. It was hard as hell, shootin' a boy that young, but I had to do it, Carl. I had to."
"You're a good man, Ed." While the officer and the coroner conversed, a dark figure walked, unnoticed, to where Kim lie. It was clad in a long, black, hooded robe. It's face was covered. Seamlessly, it moved as the night wind, and lifted Kim to it's shoulders. As mysteriously as it had arrived, it disappeared back into the darkness, taking Kim's corpse with it.
If you all are polite, and carefull, I'll put up the sequel as soon as I finish it.
Remember, I have social anxiety disorder, so don't be a prick. And yes, I am aware that it is a little cliché, at least, to me.