As I flipped my eyes open, the world came back into focus and I was still sitting in front of the television in a comfortable spot on the couch, my head tipped back on the head rest. The sounds of some late night movie still blared over the speakers. I tried to keep my eyes on the flick but quiet bickering from behind me was slicing my thoughts into pieces and I couldn't keep my mind on the action. "Bob...is that you?" I tilted my head side wards, trying to see behind me.
Shrugging it off, I returned to watching the movie, ahh...Vampires. The perfect way to spend your Saturday night, watching a horror flick. I glanced around the coffee table to see if any of the snack bags had even a little crumb in them...that's when I heard the bickering again. "Duke...?" When nobody answered me, I turned around to see him standing there. It took me a a few seconds to register what he was doing. My dark brown eyes caught his, and that's when I noticed the gun...I don't know why I hadn't seen it earlier. He had it pointed right at my head. "W...what are you doing?" I gasped, jumping off of the couch and backing away from him.
"What does it look like?" he snapped, waving the gun aimlessly around.
"B..but why?" I cried, "I'm your brother...how could you want to do something so horrible to your brother, your own twin brother. You're identical." I was holding back the tears the threatened to break free, I couldn't let him see that he was tearing me apart, I knew if I let him see my fear, he'd fed on it.
"Oh,Shut up! I'm doing this for you aren't I?!" Bob yelled upwards towards the ceiling. Oh my gawd, he's totally lost it. What do they call it, schizophrenic? He was hearing voices...voices that didn't favor me.
"Robert, just set the gun down..." I pleaded. He glared slightly at me, trying to aim the gun between my eyes, but he was shaking so rapidly that if he shot he'd miss or nail me in the heart.
"Set the gun down!?" he cried, "Are you kidding me? And let him call me a wuss, a loser, a weakling. I ain't any of those Clint...you are. You want me dead. So I'm going to get you first."
"I...I don't want you dead!" I whined, the fear seeping into my voice, I couldn't hold back no more, nor could I stop the tears that were slowly venturing down my cheeks. The gun was still aimed at my head, I couldn't handle it and broke out into a choking sob. "Gawd, Bob...don't kill me...please..."
"Clint, I don't want to kill you any more than you want to die..." he sobbed, "But I have to...he'll only go away if I do...I need him to go away..." I gulped, he was more sick then I ever thought he could be and I could taste my fear in the pit of my stomach. He is going to kill me, he's actually going to kill me. I've seen the look in his eyes before, the look of depression, confusion and pain...but never before has it ever been this strong. I stared deeply into his eyes...not a hint of reluctancy.
I guess I just stood there staring at him, watching him with large eyes, how could this be happening, how could he want me dead? What have I ever done to him? "But...but you said you'd go away..."...the despair in Bob's voice almost made me reach out for the gun and shoot myself. But I couldn't bring myself to move or speak for that matter...I just stood there like a statue.
Finally I gathered enough strength to speak, "Come on, Duke...this is pointless...you need help."
"I don't need help...Who needs help...you do." Bob snapped, "Look here! I'm the one with the..." he stopped short, and looked down at the silver pistol in his hands. I let out a breathe of relief...he finally realized what he was doing.
"Drop it...just drop the gun..." I pleaded, taking a step closer but as I did so the gun was once again aimed directly between my eyes. I watched in fear as his finger came close to pulling the trigger.
"Shut up!" he hissed, "Why don't you just leave me alone? You are the reasons for all of sleepless nights and crazy accusations...wait...you mean, It's true?"
"Listen Bob, You need to try and block out the voices." I whimpered, "Please...for me."
"What do you know?" he snapped, "You don't lose sleep over having dreams of your own twin killing you in vicious ways. You don't have to worry about hearing about how everyone's going to kill you and how life would be better if your family was dead!" He was becoming more and more bitter.
"I'm not after you! Listen to me..I don't want you dead!" I screamed getting very irritated...and when I get this worried and scared...I say things I don't mean, "If anyone's going to be kill it's going to be yourself and your stupid little voice, so just drop the gun and suck it up."
Angrily he shifted the gun down to my heart which was racing wildly and then he jerked it back up to my head, trying to figure out where to shoot...and that's when he yanked the trigger...
I shot up into a sitting position, my body was covered in sweat. My quivering brown eyes focused on the clock, it was 1:31 and I could still feel the bullet gliding through my head and the trickle of warm blood oozing down my forehead. I reached up and swiped some wet liquid off my forehead and looked at it...relieved that it was sweat and not blood. I fought a wave of vomit and I glanced over to the armchair to find my twin brother sleeping peacefully with his legs draped over the arm rest of the chair. ....I really need to stop watching them horror movies, I thought as I curled back up into a little ball, letting my eyes clamp shut again.
