Photograph That I Gave You

I drag one eyelid open. Shit, I must have drifted off again. I'm sitting on the kitchen counter which is odd. I must have been in the middle of making break fast when I dozed off.
My eyelids fall shut like blinds and I intend to keep them this way when I notice an odd smell. A familiar one-blood?
Blood, gallons of the stuff. On the floor, on the fridge door, on my clothes. Suddenly I'm wide awake. What's going on? Almost reluctantly I follow the trail of deep red to the front of the bus out the door. It must be noon but for some reason no ones around. The trail lingers on, thinning the further away from the kitchen I get.
I reach the treeline of the pathetic forest that shelters one side of the area. There's a path. I find myself running. The deeper I get the darker it is, and colder. Goosebumps break out on my skin. It's a whole other world from the tour not 100 feet back.
I reach the end of the blood, I'm staring down at a hand. I don't want to see who it belongs to. But I have to.
No.
Not my brother, god not my little brother.
But there's no changing the face. He's splayed out on the dirt, some leaves are left over his face, he isn't wearing his glasses. His jaw is dislocated and he doesn't look right. His chest is torn open, it's contents spilling onto the forest floor. Out on the corner of my eye I see what could be a motionless Ray and Bob, all equally mangled but I don't -just don't want to make sure.
"Mikey," I tap his shoulder with the tip of my shoe. "Mikes?" He doesn't respond. "Mikey," I repeat. Tears stream down my face but I can't fathom why. "Mikey get up." He still doesn't respond. I laugh nervously. "Come on Mikey. M-mikey," I trip over a tree root and slam onto my knees. I don't feel it.
A few feet away I spot his glasses. I crawl over and grab them. "Hey Mikes you dropped these," I return to his side, he's staring at me without seeing me. "H-here," I place the glasses carefully over his eyes, "You can't-can't see me without your glasses." Even with his glasses when he stares at me, he can't see me. "M-mikey," I collapse in a sobbing heap. My head resting on what should be his chest but is now part of a rib cage and a lung. His blood coats my face like cheap concealer. "I didn't do this, I wouldn't hurt you. I'm your older brother I'm supposed to he there for you, k-keep you safe. Please Mikey, I didn't do this" I don't think he believes me. "I didn't do this, last night, you were...you were...god where were you? And I uhm, when I got up I..." It's all a blur. "FFuck!" I squeeze my temples with painful fists as if that can bring the memory back, maybe I don't want it back.
No, I have to believe I wouldn't do this, I wouldn't do this. But I would.
The jab I felt in my leg seems to be worsening so I bother to stand and look at it. I pull out a knife that was pressing just slightly into my leg. It didn't pierce a vein but it's covered in blood. Oh god. I hear footsteps approaching from behind me. And I turn around.
"What's going on Gee?" No, he can't see what I've done. He can't know what a monster I am. Killing strangers is one thing family is another.
"What's new?" He puts his hands in his jean pockets and sways around a bit while he waits just a couple feet from us.
"Fucking Christ, I killed my brother." I blurt out. So much for my plan.
"Oh that's OK Gee, I new you would. Its not much of a surprise."
"No, Frank he's fucking really dead. My little brothers dead. I-I killed him."
"Don't worry, let's get some breakfast." He closes the distance between us.
"Stop!" I hollar panickedly. He doesnt obey. "I said stop! Don't you fucking get it?! Don't come near me. I think I'm loosing control."
"Don't be ridiculous, I trust you." He says casually.
"But I don't trust me."
"Come here," he leans in and I hold out a hand to stop him.
But somehow my hand has a knife or my hand is a knife or maybe they have always been the same thing and it's in him. I'm the worst possible meaning of the sentence.
I slide the blade out of his liver with almost curiosity. How?
Red paints his lips and he falls.
"Frank!" I reach out and try to catch him but only succeed in cutting him up further. With a choked cry he hits the leaves and all I can think is not again.
It isn't over so fast though. With an arm clung around his torn abdomen he manages to sit up. His breathing is raspy and strange sounding like sucking meat through a straw.
I can't bear to see him look so pathetic so I try to give him a hand up. I sever it off instead.
"God damn it Frankie!"
But when he looks up at me he just grins, his eyes look terrified but his smile doesn't waver, "Don't worry Gee, I like the pain." He struggles to his feet.
"I know what thats like but please don't let me be the one to hurt you. "
"Why not? You're so damn good at it."he replies bitterly.
"Frankie please, don't do this." I whimper. "Why? What have I got to loose? You? Please. You matter as much to me as your knives cost -that's it. If I'm going to kill myself, might as well get a killer caught in the process. I called Officer Thompson, they'll be here any minute. It's my job to keep you busy until they do."
"Frankie, I can't believe-" The feeling is like someone pouring ice water on my brain mixed with heartbreak.
"What? That I'd do the right thing? How could you let it go this far?"
"Its for you Frank, its all for you. I've started and now I can't stop, I just literally can't stop. "
"Why don't you just give up?" His tone is worn and pleading.
"I have. A long time ago. That's why I'm doing this. I have no hope for myself left. Except in you. You're the only hope for me."
I hold out my hand. I hear the sirens.
He takes my hand..... Brings it to his throat.....and uses the blade to open it up in a large grin which is so customary to him. I scream and close my eyes.
My eyes shoot open. I'm beside an empty matress space, in the trailer. It's still night. Frankie's gone.
It was just a nightmare. Or was it reality? Is this the dream?
One way to find out.
I get up and creep into the "kitchen" There is no blood but there's also no Frankie or any of my other band mates.
I hear his voice from outside and remember how to breathe. Concentrating I can make out words "catch the guy?" "Something to tell you."
Who can he be talking to? The police? Oh god is my dream true?
When he enters I stay in the center of the room, wanting.to run to him but unsure if I should. How much of my dream is true?
"Are you possesed?"Is his first stupid adorable perfect question.
I disregard everything and run into his arms, because isn't that what I've always done....

Notes

Your comments freak me the fuck out because I expect hate but omg I love you all so much, you support me for something I don't feel many other people would understand. And I'm sorry for being pessimistic. This chapter might seem a little bleak and ultimately pointless but I found it fun to write...yeah I'm twisted. Thanks and enjoy (?)