[ It's the first time he's been touched by her since the night they had left the hospital. That night, he had grabbed her, pulled her, tugged her possessively and desperately tried to fight against her earlier rejection of him. Her fear of him. It was perhaps the first night their distance appeared (or maybe it was before that -- when their Mother did what she did, or when he first killed that elderly couple), and two halves shouldn't be like this. They should be together. They needed one another.
His eyes look down to her hand, and the heaviness in his chest that arrived with the contact lifts up out of him, along with most feeling. Johan's entire body stills with not only the lack of emotion, but the lack of physical sensation, as he blinks slow and hard.
He recalls being truly happy with her in the fields. In the backyard, playing with whichever animal they came upon. Running away from monsters, having death clutch and claw at their stomachs as they wandered deliriously through barren lands and freezing weather. Protecting her -- the first time he killed for her, he felt proud, like he had been a good brother. These moments of terror and fear rolling through every fiber of his muscles were intrinsically mixed so closely with what he remembers happiness to be. It was something he knew almost anybody would never want to go back to and would never wish for again. Especially not his sister. The point she wanted to return to had most likely been her time with the Lieberts and her life without him. Though they were connected, he's beginning to realize that perhaps they're not the same.
Perhaps. But maybe, he thinks with something bordering a blanket of desperation, he can change that. Perhaps he can destroy her and turn her into a monster, too. He can bring it out of her with hatred. These thoughts come with no accompanying drive to ever see them brought to reality. They are empty, as he always is and was.
The silence streams around them like a river, and he's certain he would rather drown, because there are no real words to say. Nothing real to say. His hand slowly turns over beneath hers, palms touching. He feels no control, for a moment, and wonders if she devoured it. ]
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His eyes look down to her hand, and the heaviness in his chest that arrived with the contact lifts up out of him, along with most feeling. Johan's entire body stills with not only the lack of emotion, but the lack of physical sensation, as he blinks slow and hard.
He recalls being truly happy with her in the fields. In the backyard, playing with whichever animal they came upon. Running away from monsters, having death clutch and claw at their stomachs as they wandered deliriously through barren lands and freezing weather. Protecting her -- the first time he killed for her, he felt proud, like he had been a good brother. These moments of terror and fear rolling through every fiber of his muscles were intrinsically mixed so closely with what he remembers happiness to be. It was something he knew almost anybody would never want to go back to and would never wish for again. Especially not his sister. The point she wanted to return to had most likely been her time with the Lieberts and her life without him. Though they were connected, he's beginning to realize that perhaps they're not the same.
Perhaps. But maybe, he thinks with something bordering a blanket of desperation, he can change that. Perhaps he can destroy her and turn her into a monster, too. He can bring it out of her with hatred. These thoughts come with no accompanying drive to ever see them brought to reality. They are empty, as he always is and was.
The silence streams around them like a river, and he's certain he would rather drown, because there are no real words to say. Nothing real to say. His hand slowly turns over beneath hers, palms touching. He feels no control, for a moment, and wonders if she devoured it. ]