I sit up and wipe the tears off my face and look at one of the walls, the walls are scretched to resemble the tree from Gustav klimt, I smile, we would work on it everytime we would be locked in here. I remember spending nights in here and even though we were tired because we hadn't slept in days we would keep eachother awake because we were frightened we would get hypothermia. I remember everytime we were here. I am not insane, I sigh and crawl towards the wall and trace my finger over the carvings I sigh and lean against it, as if it is the only thing that can give me warmth right now. I smile and the tear falls down my face, there were good times, there were bad times, there were good times that a normal child wouldn't call good times. I smile but I was happy at those moments, the moments where we would find rusty bikes in the forest and being stupid enough to ride them, the happiness I had when we would run off to the village and do things that weren't legal, I loved making murals, but Loïc just came with me to keep me in check, there were good times, stealing cigarettes from our parents, forgetting a lighter. We would run away from the house every weekends, at weekends we were hardly home, we spent all our time in the forest and at the green lake. We switched our suit jackets for a leather jacket over our dress shirts and ties. He wore a loose fitting leather jacket, I wore either a suit jacket that was made of leather or a very tight one. Under our black trousers we wore either black shiny doc martens or high blue and red converse, he wore the right red one and the left blue one and I wore the others. I remember all the times we were playing and joking in the woods, we would fight each other with sticks which always resulted in one of us somehow falling, there was so much innocence in the fact we thought that was normal. We quite liked our life, we had each other, that was enough, we had no desire for other friends. We were perfect friends, we would run throug the woods even if our ankles were broken, we would wrestle with each other and we would throw the other in the lake if they lost and the weather was nice enough, but you could try to run away to avoid that, it really depended. But there was a beauty in being so free before returning to that prison.... We had no rules to follow here. I sigh and smile, I remember the times it was raining and we skipped stones over the incredibly big lake, you were always better at that, I remember the time I hugged you so hard you forbid me to hug you for a whole week, the way you used to pretend to have the urge to strangle me if I said something stupid or shaves the sides of my head again. I remember always carrying you over my shoulder while you relaxed your whole body as if you were pretending to be doll I chuckle, he was a strane fellow. We explored the old "Haunted house" other kids were afraid of and made it our club house, we discovered a little hiding place under the roots of a tree, we would call that tree the Klimt tree or the hiding tree. I frown, hobbits hide.....under the roots of a tree, klimt tree is the space under the roots of a tree, it is next to the green lake, where we used to be happy. I chuckle, the good times really were good, stealing biscuit from the cupboards, or even better still, chocalate, we knew we would be punished but the indulgance of that sweetness was simply enough to fuel us. I remember how we used to draw tattoos on the other's skin to hide the scars and bruises that were currently the worst....

I sigh, how am I romanticising the torture that has been my childhood? How can I forget the way she heated up an iron cross and burned it into our skin, or the way she would take your hand and simply put it in the fireplace, either in the ashes or the flames itself. She loved seeing us scream because of burning. And when we would insult her because of that or use profanity there were two possibilities, she would let you drink soap or diluted bleach. I still remember the way it scorched your throat, it was impossible not to throw up, but we learned not to because we would have to eat it again.... The bleach was worse though, it made you so sore you couldn't eat for days without hurting yourself, you could not drink a glass water without having the urge to throw up, you could hardly talk or cough. You would also get aan enormous headache. She also loved starving us, we would never get the same food as out parents, we would only get scraps and eventually even those scraps weren't even meant for us anymore, because they bought a hunting dog. I dig my nails in my palm, I killed that dog after he had bitten my brother so bad he had drawn blood. I did it in a rage but I am quite sure I do not regret it, even if it lead to a torture of beating and burning. My brothers pain was worth more than the life of a goddamn dog who helped torturing us. I remember that my brother and I knew first aid perfectly, we would basically nurse the other back to health everytime something would happen. We knew we would be okay eventually, we had each other, I sigh....I no longer have him. I remember the day after I killed the dog we were sitting at the edge of the lake, there was a heavy fog over the beautiful conifer trees. I had immense trouble breathing and I was in terrible pain, I looked at my brother, he was smoking a cigarette and I wondered if he was crying of if there simply was something in his eyes. "Loïc?" He looked at me and he smiled, "If I ever beg to be killed....will you please kill me?" He chuckles "I would really prefer if you wouldn't ask that at all." He said with a smile, I would comb my long hair with my hand and I took a deep breath. "Yes, I would do it." "Pinky promise?" He interlocked his pinky and kisses his hand. "Pinky promise" I would have never thought he would be the one who would be dead before I could even ask him. I wonder if he is in heaven, I wonder if heaven really exists, I wonder if she really believed we were sinners or it was a simple excuse.

Colette opens the hatch. "Dinner is ready darling, put on something suitable, he is waiting for you." I nod and stand up.

I look at the food standing in front of me, it is the first course and it is already more beautiful and better than I normally would get when I was young. The silence is unnerving as I look at my father waiting for permission to eat. He nods slightly, "Do you want a glass of wine?" I sigh and remember the parties they used to throw, I six when I had my first glass of wine, I was eleven when I had my first glass of scotch. I hardly remember the nights of those parties, I only remember waking up in places I did not remember falling asleep. I still do not understand, and I might have my suspicions but frankly I do not want to know, I do not want to be even more damaged than I already am. I do not want to know what the horrible things are that I have forgotten, I have probably forgotten them to protect my psyche. "I am sorry for locking you in the attic." My father says, I look at him. "It is alright." But it isn't he did what I was afraid of, he does not understand it wasn't normal what they did to us. He should be apologising for more than that, he should ask for the forgiveness of my childhood. He should be asking if I could ever forgive him, but he assumes I already did. I don't think my father was a bad person, I believe he did try, I really believe he did but sometimes he just....didn't and for that, I will have a hard time forgiving him.

My father talks a lot about things I am personally not interested in or things I do agree with, he talks about the way the government is too left leaning, I try my best not to scoff. I fidget with my signet ring as I see him drinking glasses of alcohol again and again. I fear the alcoholic breath of violence, I look at my father. "You know the youth is so bratty, they aren't used to normal disciplaine anymore." He says while drinking his sixth glass of whiskey while he already drank a lot of wine. "I disagree, discipline isn't always good and the way you and mother disciplined us was not healthy at all. It was outright cruel." I say while pouring myself a second glass of wine and drinking it. I see the anger slowly steering his mind back towards the past as he slowly stand up. I feel the fear in myself flooding the watergates of forgiveness, he has not changed, I must have changed right. He walks up to me and I arrogantly do not break eyecontact. "Look forward!" He yells as if he is part of the military. "No thank you father." He grabs my chin and opens my mouth as he grabs the winebottle. "IF YOU WISH TO BE INDULGANT YOU SHALL BE!" he yells as he pours the wine bottle in my mouth, I sputter and try to close my mouth but he has a firm grip on it. I feel the way the wine prevents me from taking normal breaths and spills out of my mouths onto the ground, it resembles blood as it slowly stain my beautiful white blouse. When the bottle is empty he releases me and I cough trying not to throw up as my lungs try their best to survive when I feel the bottle shattering on my head, the warm blood streams down my ear and temple providing the smallest bit of comfort that I can still feel things. I try to avoid the pain and the tears in my eyes but they simply leave my eyes, they leave my body with a violence of pain and wonder. I look up in an arrogant gaze "You really needed to pretend so hard to convince yourself you are a good person...." he points the sharp shards on the bottle of the neck at my neck. "Say 'I HAD A GOOD CHILDHOOD'" I can only cry and shake my head as the sharpness scares me "I didn't.... My childhood was miserable." I whisper. "SAY IT" "I HAD A GOOD CHILDHOOD." I scream through the tears. "AGAIN, BELIEVE IT YOU BRAT!" "I HAD A GOOD CHILDHOOD." I scream again as the blood and tears stream down my face. He lowers the shards. I take a deep breath when I suddenly feel his strong hands on my throat, pushing away the breath I am supposed to take. "Dad Please stop." I say with the limited air that can travel through my throat. The world slowly starts to turn and it slowly becomes more and more blurry. I look him in his eyes, the fear in my eyes is clear as the blood spills into them, "Dad....have mercy....." I whisper. His eyes widen in fright and he slowly walks back, "Loic??" He says he begins to hyperventilate and he passes out. I look at him slightly confused before realising I should get away before he wakes up. I run up the stairs and to my room where I immediately lock the door. I take a deep breath as I relax, this house is cursed with violence.....

I put the blouse in the bathtub and look at my scar riddled body as I dry off the wine. I trace all the cuts from my childhood and the burns everywhere. I look cross burned into me and chuckle. I look at the tattoos I have to abscure the scars you see the most. I also have a big tattoo on my back, a tattoo of the painting in our hall, the klimt tree. My other tattoos are all based on the ones he used to draw on my skin, I will always carry him with me, I am him, he was me..... We were one, no one truly understands what we went through. I needed him more than I needed myself, I still do, but he cannot be here. And that is okay, so I will check if I can find his suicide note in the hiding tree and I will never return to this stupid estate.

The next morning I pack my bag, I take some things I wished I would have taken with me all those years ago. I frown, why was my father so frightened when I begged for mercy? Why did he call me Loïc, you can see the difference quite clearly, I am alive and he isn't. I chuckle and light a cigarette as I walk out of the manor. I ignore the screaming headache the bottle has given me.

I walk through the woods wearing my headphones blasting "Kill all your friends." on them. I remember everything about the forest, I pick up a branch and hit other branches with it like we used to do when we were young. I smile as I almost trip on the same root as I used to trip on. I arrive at the green lake. I feel extreme euphoria as I scream "They'll never take me alive!!" I dance along the sides of the water as I splash it up and smile, my socks get wet as it is the first time I am wearing converse again. I smile as I look at the lake and it feels like he puts his arm around me. I smile and walk towards the tree, the entrance is smaller than I remember, or maybe I have grown. I lower myself in it when I see a small box, I grab it and leave the tree, evidentely I have become more claustrophobic than I used to be. I open the box. I smile as I see the locket I was always confused about, he normally wore it every day but when he died it was simply....gone, just like his life. I smile as I trace my fingers over the green stone before opening it. There's a little piece of weathered paper in it. "Well done brother, I knew you weren't completely stupid." I chuckle, we would always say that to each other. "However this is not a normal letter, If you read this I have been murdered. You deserve revenge, We have always excelled in Haunting people. You'll find everything you need there."

I immediately jump up, put the paper back in the locket and put the locket around my neck as I run towards the haunted house. I climb the steep hills and graze my knees on other things but I simply ignore them. I look at the haunted house, it is more overgrown than it used to be. I grab my bootknife and cut through some of the plants and enter it. I walk towards our favourite room, one with an old mirror that looks like it could summon ghosts. I frown as I see a more modern chest standing in front of it with a snake and a raven on it. I smile and kneel, I am supposed to find this. My hands tremble as I pick the lock. I open the chest, it's filled with letters, documents and pictures, but on top there is a letter with his handwriting.

"Dearest brother, accepting our childhood for what it was might have been the hardest task in the history of mankind. I do not remember much of the crimes that have happened, or at least the ones that are proved with these pictures and letters. Thankfully these were all dated and they have helped the police very much by doing that. Gaétan, do not try to remember, it is better not to."

I sigh and look at the first letter, I frown as it is a discussion between my mother and a person I do not know about when "The twins" Can sleep over. I frown, I look at the pictures, I frown what is the problem about children when they are naked? I mean yes maybe you should but every mother does it but than I see that it is attached to a letter to someone. I scoff and frown as I look through the photos, I see several people performing sexual acts on me and my brother....while we were children. I gasp when I see my father on the pictures, I cannot stop the tears of fear and betrayal. I close my eyes, yes....those parties must have been what I thought they were. My father is a fucking pedophile and me and my brother has been used as fucking toys for people who should rot in hell. I take a deep breath, at least the police will have enough evidence.....

That night I enter the sitting room my father is reading a book. "Did you kill my brother?" He looks up at me and frowns "Why would you think that?" "You confessed yesterday when you were drunk." I say with a cold numb face. "That is not true!" I nod. "Let me explain" He says I chuckle and turn around, "What is there to explain? You have murdered him." "I...I" "What are you going to do? Kill me too? OR would you prefer to fuck me?" I say coldly. "I am telling the police, not about the murder...... You can decide if you want to try to kill me tonight or not father...."

two days later

The police stepped out of their cars the young cop shuddered at the sight of the manor. "What is it?" Charlotte, his partner asked. "There's an evil vibe around this house." he says. "Oh come on you are so supersticious." he chuckles and they knock on the door. They need to wait for a few minutes before the door opens slowly opens. "Yes?" A deep voice asked. "We are looking for Antoine Baptiste Sacha Venin-vipère." The boy opens the door further, revealing the beauty of youth but also a darkness and arrogance. "Oh, my father, I am sorry I haven't seen him since yesterday, I think he is hunting somewhere on the estate. But perhaps I can help you?" "We have a warrant for his arrest." "Oh....I am sorry I did not....." "Is it alright if we search the grounds?" "Of course!"

"This is getting old!" Billy says to charlotte. "Just look for him." "This forest is massive!" "He must be somewhere, we will find him." theres a sudden silence from billy's part. "Billy do not sulk." "Ummmmm charlotte.... I think I found him." She runs towards him he is looking up and he point towards a body slowly swaying in the wind, he hung himself. "Well....good riddance." Charlotte says with a groan, "call backup"

Week later

I stare at your grave, I have decided not to bury you in the family graveyard, I stand by that decision. I think this place is more suitable for you, surrounded by the middle class you seemed to despise. I chuckle as I look at your grave, I think I spent too much money on your grave, but perhaps you do deserve to have some kind of sympathy.... I sigh... how do you mourn someone when you've killed that person? Who am I kidding? Thankfully you were a bastard without the right to be mourned. You did deserve to be murdered. I put a bouquet of orange lilies on his grave while I grab a small chisel and begin to carve something out under his name. I smile as I look at the grave, the text now says: "Antoine Baptiste Sacha Venin-vipère, a friend and father, AND A PEDOPHILE, HUGS AND KISSES: YOUR SONS." I smile and grab the empty wine bottle I brought with me, I break it on his stone. I turn around the rolls royce with my chaffeur is waiting for me, I step into the car. We arrive at my Manor while the song "you don't own me" plays on my headphones. They do not own us I think as I walk up the stairs.