|
|
Post by River Antonucchi on Jul 4, 2015 0:37:24 GMT -5
Ever since the incident, River had begun to ignore his brother. Not just avoid, but ignore. River had the slight childish tendency to ignore people when things are brewing bad between him and said person. It was just best not to interact than outwardly explode and have a huge fight. The only huge fight River would appreciate only would be a bloodbath, and that's the only way River prefers it. Though since the even that having a bloodbath with his twin was very unlikely, he stuck to ignoring Pietro.
Here he was facing his memories for the first time again, much more vivid and much more painful. But with Pietro's outburst not too long ago, he decided to revisit those horrible memories. Horrible memories only for his eyes, but he was contemplating about letting his brother finally see it. He had fetched his pensieve from the small cupboard in his apartment at the school. He was lucky he had the room at the end of the hallway because otherwise he would just end up with a weird storage cabinet. He then sat on his bed, the pensieve floating as it was ready to hold memories, memories painful and horrible.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pietro Antonucchi on Jul 5, 2015 21:05:47 GMT -5
Well, River had been ... even more River-ish of late. Turned completely inward, not even bothering to mock his brother. It wasn't a comfortable situation for Pietro, and he wanted it over.
It helped that he had discussed the situation with Uncle Enzo and they had hatched a plan. Mother would get exactly what she deserved, and Pietro and Enzo would be the ones to deliver it.
In the meantime, though ... well, he needed to apologize to his brother. So Pietro knocked on River's door, calling out, "River? It's me. Please let me in."
|
|
|
|
Post by River Antonucchi on Jul 5, 2015 21:46:05 GMT -5
River was pulled out of the pensieve by the sounds of his brother knocking in his door. He sighed, wanting to just ignore him, but River didn't want to report to the custodian to fix his door again. And he was sure Pietro would kick it down beyond magical fixture, and that really wasn't in River's best interest. He sighed, standing up from his bed and walking over to the door to let Pietro settle his business with him whatever it is. Then kick him out after.
River put his hand on the doorknob, trying to finalize his decision. He nodded to himself, opening the door soundlessly, looking at his brother with his usual poker face, not saying anything. If he had important business, he better declare it now before he shuts the door right on his face. And that wouldn't be pleasant. But of course, he didn't expect his brother to be there to say sorry, and Pietro never really needed to, he didn't do anything wrong, not to River anyways...
|
|
|
|
Post by Pietro Antonucchi on Jul 5, 2015 23:15:18 GMT -5
All right, good. At least he had opened the door. That was a good first step.
Pietro felt the foolish urge to reach out and hug his brother. He wanted to say I love you and force him to talk. Pietro had never admitted it, but he hated the fact that he could never get River to talk to him. Now he had more insight into why River was the way he was, but it didn't change the fact that he hated feeling so distant from his brother, his twin, the one he'd been with since the moment of their conception.
Yes, they could count on each other. Yes, River would always have his back. But there was something missing, something that had always been missing, and Pietro wanted it. Oh, wasn't he just the most shameful thing that had ever happened to the Antonucchis? Bleeding-heart fool, he was. Pietro didn't understand why he was the favorite nephew when River was the one who really fulfilled the perfect image of the mafia man.
What was it about him? What made him seem so special to the others, but so inadequate to himself?
Well, now he was just standing silently, and River would quickly become impatient and send him away, so Pietro needed to say something. He cleared his throat and looked directly into his brother's eyes. "River, I need to apologize to you. I was out of line when we ... spoke. I yelled at you and ... was angry and violent. I regret that, and I do not want you to ignore me anymore. You are, as always, my only brother, and I value our relationship. Please forgive me."
|
|
|
|
Post by River Antonucchi on Jul 5, 2015 23:42:11 GMT -5
River looked simply at his brother, shaking his head. "It's okay, Pietro. You didn't do anything wrong, not really," he looked at his brother, opening the door much wider and turned to go inside, and it was signal for him to come in as well. Well he was saying sorry now, he might as well see what really happen. After all, Pietro doesn't really say sorry to him. Either it was a cocky jab, or their mother would make him say sorry to Pietro, so in truth, River was the one who always was the one saying sorry. He found that forgiving was so much harder to do than saying sorry.
"Pensieve... If you want to join me," he sighed at himself, leading his brother to his messy stain-filled bed. Body fluids, blood, semen, and the such... "Pretty pathetic, I know..." River looked at his brother, shaking his head again. River is going to be the only fucking brother he will ever have, so he might as well fucking cherish his sadistic little twin. Well, he hasn't little, he was the taller one. That was one thing he had against his brother, but being tall isn't what its all cracked up to be, and Pietro knew that. He was tall too, perfect height, weight, looks, everything.
He looked at the silver instrument, holding every bad thing that ever happened to him. It was very painful to look at, or to ever revisit it, he didn't even know why he was doing it now, or why he was showing his brother the most private memories he ever had... The dark secrets he withheld from him for so long.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pietro Antonucchi on Jul 6, 2015 0:05:31 GMT -5
Pietro offered a small, sad smile. "Well ... I did ... but at least you've heard me say it." Fortunately, River had opened the door more widely, clearly inviting him inside. So that was progress, and that was the best Pietro could hope for. He walked inside, closing the door behind him, and then ...
Was this really happening? River was asking him to join? With the pensieve? This ... this was unprecedented and unexpected and completely ... completely ... what?
But he couldn't pass this up. An opportunity to know his brother better? Possibly an opportunity to break through those River walls that he built so skillfully around his heart? How could Pietro resist?
He approached the bed, sat down next to his brother, and looked once more into River's eyes. "Nothing pathetic about you, brother," he replied, trying to keep his hands steady despite the fact that he'd known, the second he saw the pensieve, that this was going to change his life irreparably.
"Please," Pietro murmured, "show me."
|
|
|
|
Post by River Antonucchi on Jul 6, 2015 0:31:45 GMT -5
River looked at his brother, nodding, "Dive in," he said as he had dipped his head in the pensieve, with enough room for Pietro and one more person to dip in their head. River was now in a dark place, his being transparent as he waited for his brother to come in. He looked around, his room. He knew this place so well, most of everything happened in here, so many tragic things, hopeless dreams, broken bones, bloodied skin, bruised flesh... River had grown close with its walls, the darkness it held and the cries it kept.
Little River looked around, "Mother, why is my new room dark?" River asked his mother, looking up at her with big eyes. This one was when he was six. He had already learned how to fight at this point, thanks Uncle Enzo. He looked curiously, but wasn't successful, it was so dark, you can barely see anything. It looked scary too, but exciting. He took a few steps in, his feet feeling the cold sensation, going up to his upper body, the boy shivered. It was cold in here, it fit the darkness. River realized, he didn't like this room. He wanted to be back with Pietro, where it was warm and well-lit, filled with comfy pillows and big beds.
CLICK
"Mother?" River turned around, walking up to the door, trying to open it. It was locked, and River started to panic. What happened? Why did Mother closed and locked the door? Was he being a bad boy again? He didn't do anything! River didn't know what to do, this was his first lock down. The boy started to whimper. There wasn't any light here, it was all dark and cold. He didn't know how to illuminate rooms yet, he didn't think there was any light source here, at least he couldn't see any for now because it was goddamn dark! River backed up until he hit the corner, he was scared. There were monsters in the room, Pietro always told him to hide under the covers when sleeping. Monsters were lurking in the dark, ready to eat him! He whimpered some more before curling into himself and started to cry, he didn't know what to do. He wanted Pietro, but he wasn't here, no one was, except for the monsters out there to get to him.
The older River was standing at the other corner of the room, not needing to see the boy to know where he was. He knew this particular one, it was the start of everything. Where he was still scared, scared of monsters. Where he had thought they were coming to get to him, to hurt and eat him.
What older River knew now was that the only monster in the room was him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pietro Antonucchi on Jul 6, 2015 23:18:11 GMT -5
Pietro took a deep breath and then let himself fall into the pensieve. River's old bedroom: the one Pietro had envied. The adventure cave. The place where the bad things happened. He closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to maintain his composure, then opened them again to look - really look - at the child version of his brother.
Fear etched into every feature, oozing from every pore, suffusing the boy's posture as he curled up around himself and cried. He didn't understand why he had been locked in. He was so afraid.
Pietro ached for his brother, wishing he could reach out and hug the little boy, take him away from this house that had been so full of both horrors and delights. All those delights, the ones only Pietro was allowed to taste ... he had taken them for granted. He had been blinded by his own comfort. He had been young and foolish and ignorant. How could these things have happened right under his nose?
Had he not known, or had he not wanted to know?
All around the little boy, the air started to move, gathering up dust motes to set them swirling. There was a little tornado with River at its center, full of debris from the floor of this unnoticed, unswept room. Pietro sat down on the rickety bed, put a hand over his mouth, and watched as his brother cried amidst a storm of dust, and then ...
A sound from the door. The wind ended abruptly, and the young River gasped, hurriedly wiping his eyes. He couldn't be caught crying in the dark.
|
|
|
|
Post by River Antonucchi on Jul 7, 2015 1:31:59 GMT -5
River looked at his own younger self. Unlike Pietro, he didn't need to see what he looked like up close. He didn't need to see himself live it through it again, but then again, here he was. River looked at Pietro. The little dust clouds were magic, the magic he had particularly enjoyed back then. He had needed the magic to live through everything. Either ways, it happened without him having to do anything. He only needed to be all alone and hurt, then it happened. It just did.
The door creaked in again, the younger River had shook, wanting to whimper but all sounds just left him. He looked as the door slightly opened and then he saw his mother again. The wretched bitch that made him suffer though everything. "River, it's time for presents, don't you want to be with Pietro opening presents?" She cooed to the young River. River nodded slightly, standing up with a wobble. He could already feel his mother's gaze scrutinizing River for his weakness. She hated how useless he was, how derange his son really was. Born a monster, sadistic little child who enjoyed seeing pain inflicted to others. Such monster her son was. No, he wasn't her son. She only had one son, one daughter. Pietro and Suki, those were her only children.
River wobbled over to his mother, doing so as fast as he could because he didn't want mother to hurt him again. She nudged him enough to almost make him trip to make him walk faster. It was their birthdays. He wondered if they were done with the celebrations, if he and Pietro were about to open presents, which usually happened at the end of the celebrations. The older River had motioned Pietro to follow him, walking over through the door frame, leading to another memory. Pietro knew what happened after, they were opening the presents and obviously Pietro got the bigger and better presents, except for Uncle Enzo's present. He gave them equal presents.
Trees in the backyard were swaying from the wind, River saw himself running around with Pietro, having fun with him as they were playing. It was a break from their training, playing was the only thing they looked forward to these days, really. And of course, Pietro was better in all areas. He was rewarded despite not doing anything, and especially when he did things perfectly, which he always did. But there was some things River was better at, Transfiguration. Of course, when their mother found out, River was beat up. Told that he shouldn't be better than Pietro. So whenever that happened, River toned it down. He had to, or else he had to answer to their mother.
Pietro grew up knowing that he was better than his younger twin at everything.
River looked at Pietro, the older one, he should know the truth behind this one too, why his mother had to 'talk' to him. Earlier that day, River had preformed a bit better in Transfigurations again in their training. He looked at his younger self with a loud sigh, it was no use hiding everything now.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pietro Antonucchi on Jul 7, 2015 17:57:20 GMT -5
The way the tiny River cowered when their mother came in ... like a dog. He had never done that in front of Pietro ... or had he? How many of his own memories had she blasted out of his head? How many moments had been lost to him, and how many would come seeping back into his brain? He couldn't help it; he gasped, then bit down on one of his fingers to hold the emotions inside. He wasn't going to make his brother regret showing him this. But, oh, how he already regretted asking to see in the first place.
Sixth birthday ... Mommy said that River didn't want to play all the party games with him. She said that River wanted to be alone, that he was throwing a tantrum. But he wasn't ... he was just sitting here, locked in his room, feeling afraid. What ... good God, WHAT was so wrong with him that she felt this need to attack, to punish, to brutalize? What had he ever done wrong?
He squeezed his eyes closed for a long moment, then stood up to follow the older River into a different memory.
He saw himself, now ... saw himself through River's eyes. They were running around, playing tag, and Pietro tagged his brother a little too hard, knocking him over. Why hadn't the little River shoved him back? It hadn't seemed strange at the time, but now Pietro saw things more clearly. How had a man capable of such brutality allowed himself, as a child with little impulse control, to be shoved down without fighting back? Because he would have been punished, terribly punished, and the adult Pietro could see that knowledge burning in the young River's eyes. The little boy looked up, and there was a flash of fire in his gaze that was quickly dulled.
He couldn't push back.
And then their mother appeared, calling for River. Calling for him to come inside. The little Pietro barely even noticed. He sulked a bit at the loss of his playmate, but he got over it quickly. He found a new game to amuse himself with.
Oh, he didn't want to follow them inside ... but he had to, didn't he?
God, it hurt.
|
|
|
|
Memories
Jul 7, 2015 18:23:10 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by River Antonucchi on Jul 7, 2015 18:23:10 GMT -5
River was called inside by their mother. She had seen that fire in his eyes and was ready to extinguish it. Never look at him that way, never with anything but a loving and nurturing gaze. Not only that, he dared to be himself. River had done something he shouldn't have. River had to control himself a lot when his brother was around. River who was known to Pietro as a very uncontrollable force... He was probably the person with most control of himself that Pietro knew.
River followed himself going inside of the hell house. Mother waiting for him and he knew what he was going to get. He looked up briefly with his mother in fear before being hit in the back of his head, getting shouted at to go to his room. River's eyes empty as he went to his room, his mother following.
"What did I tell you about Transfiguration?!" his mother had been quick to snap.
"Don't be good. Don't be better." River had a robotic tone to his voice as he said the words his mother was drilling to his head.
He was shoved to his room, his mother was inside lighting up a candle as she closed the door. "Strip. Aureliana will be here soon. You don't want to make her wait" Aureliana throughout his childhood had been in frequent. Of course there had been more women too, but she was the most frequent. She was the one River hated the most.
A few minutes later the door opened and the beautiful lady had entered. Ready to hurt River inside out with hitting, scratching, abusing him verbally, sexually, mentally, and physically. All at just one time.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pietro Antonucchi on Jul 7, 2015 18:50:01 GMT -5
Every step was a trial. Pietro felt as though he were walking in mud, thick mud that swallowed his feet and made him heavy. He couldn't do this, he couldn't follow, he couldn't watch ... but he had to. He owed this to his brother.
Aureliana? Who the hell ... no. No, wait ... Miss Aureliana who used to bring him little gifts and let him sit on her lap? The pretty lady? But ... she used to let him tug on her curly hair, watch the silken corkscrews bounce back into their natural shapes ... Miss Aureliana had ... had ...
No, no, no, no, God no! Pietro stumbled backward, lost his balance, and fell against the wall. There she was, and there was tiny little naked River, and the rest - he couldn't bear it, he couldn't take it in, it was too much -
Scratching at his face, her long nails raking over his eyelids ...
Slapping the little boy, grabbing him by the hair, slamming him against the floor ...
"Little monster ... filthy little monster!" ...
Wait, and now she was ... why was she touching him there? And then ... grabbing his head and ...
"NO!" Pietro bellowed, knowing that he could make no difference, but overwhelmed with rage anyway, "no, God, no, he's a child! What the hell is wrong with you? Why ... NO! God, please, no ... "
Oh, how he wanted to dash her head against the wall, crack her skull, watch her brains spill out into his hands.
Oh, how he wanted to put a gun in his mouth.
But he was completely powerless, barely even a ghost in the corner of the room, and he sank down to the floor and buried his face in his hands and tried to block out the sounds of his brother's useless cries.
|
|
|
|
Memories
Jul 8, 2015 18:56:21 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by River Antonucchi on Jul 8, 2015 18:56:21 GMT -5
River looked at his brother, horrified and scarred. This was what he didn't want to happen. To see Pietro like this, angry and hurt. Hurt that he wasn't of any help before, that he couldn't save his brother in any way. And now he was simply in a pensieve, he saw everything but couldn't do anything. Because it already happened, River had already suffered through it with a brave face even as he was treated as he was then.
He glanced at his younger self, shaking his head as his own cries echoed softly in the room. No one would hear him except for the woman who had also done him so much harm. It was a miracle River turned to be a functioning member of society now, despite his horrible childhood. He walked over to his brother, shaking his head. He tugged at his collar, "Don't worry, everything is okay now," he murmured to him as they lifted up and out of the pensieve.
Pietro didn't need to see anymore because everything from then on would only become worse and worse. Pietro understood the gravity of what had happened. He didn't need further proof. Soon later River was forced to scar himself by taking the innocence of girls in an unfortunate way, they used to be innocent, and that destroyed a lot of River's humanity after the fact that girls after girls was treated as just that. Passable. He didn't feel the pain anymore after that, abuse after abuse. Pain was something River had gotten used to. Mentally and Physically. He endured it all.
He didn't want to be pitied by his brother after this. He didn't want his brother to feel bad for him. Pity, he didn't like it, he didn't want him to feel bad for him. Because he was as sure as hell that would be what he would do if he hadn't already. Pity would make it seem like he, River, was weak. River knew he was anything but. Especially after this. Pity was for the weak, and River wasn't weak. He was strong, as strong as a man could be. He didn't need pity, he needed love.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pietro Antonucchi on Jul 9, 2015 0:57:26 GMT -5
Pietro was lost somewhere in the depths of his own mind, but he felt the tightening of his collar when River grabbed him, and then they were out of the pensieve, back in River's apartment.
The air felt still, stale, heavy.
Pietro was sitting on the bed, weeping into his hands. The front of his shirt was drenched.
He couldn't speak. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? How could he know these things and not go stark raving mad with the weight of them?
He couldn't lift his face. He could barely breathe. Pietro was at a complete loss. If he took a single step away from this moment, continued his life on the other side of it, that would make it real.
God, how he wanted it not to be real.
|
|
|
|
Post by River Antonucchi on Jul 9, 2015 23:16:19 GMT -5
River looked sadly beside his brother, "I think that was enough," he told Pietro. It might have been more than enough from the start, actually. Pietro was better off not seeing it, but then Pietro wouldn't know what had exactly happened to him. "I'm too much of a monster, I was born a monster... I'm not like you, even though everyone wants me to be. I tried, but I couldn't. You were too good. Too good for everyone. Nobody needed a second child, nobody needed me. One girl, one boy. Suki and you. That's all mother ever wanted," River looked down at his lap, his hands joined together, holding one another.
"I'd like to think I did it so you could live happier with yourself. I hid it so you wouldn't see what was going on, that was part of the plan mother and I mutually agreed to..." River murmured to his brother, his thumbs fiddling one another. "I grew strong, Pietro. I didn't regret any of it, I wouldn't imagine living a life without the struggles mother had constantly thrown at me. It made me tame, better. Myself."
In all truth, yes. RIver didn't regret anything, or maybe because in a way he was brainwashed to think that he deserved the torture. He never, no one did. But he believed so that it was good for him, and in a way it made him a better person. But River, he never deserved that. He was so much more treated for so much less. All for something he couldn't control.
|
|
