I'll kill you (I love you)

The creatures followed Ali wherever she went. They dripped after her, staining the very ground she walked upon. The thick, bubbly sludge curled up her legs, her arms, tendrils of tar that stood out starkly against her pasty skin.

Of course, they were invisible to anyone but her, but nevertheless, they were unmistakably there, looming presence a constant in her mind. They twisted the way she saw things, contaminated how she heard things.

Inside the shadow of the creatures, Ali’s world was a bleak place.

Her sister’s music became a terror worthy of nightmares. Her mother’s invitation to parties: a mockery of her lonesome nature. Her father’s absence: proof that people would abandon her, use her, mistreat her.

Ali had tried not to let the darkness consume her. Her body was living proof of this. Her scarred skin, damaged lungs and bruised bones were all results of her main distraction methods—pain.

Her brother had always disapproved of her methods.

Her brother—ever the kind one, always one to forgive and forget.  The only person who had believed in her lies. Tried to protect her innocence. Somedays, sometimes, when Ali was toeing the line between life and death, she could feel two warm hands picking her up, flowers in her pockets and wind in her hair.

Her brother. He had loved her so very, very much.

Her dear, poor brother. He had also been her first murder.

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Ali first met her brother when she was 10 years old, sick of getting shunned yet young enough to keep on hoping.

She could still remember the day vividly, like it was ingrained into her very flesh. Or maybe it was. Maybe someone had took a knife and physically carved out memory after memory on her brain, taking delight in her cries of pain.

She remembered hiding away in the library, desperate to find solace from the whispers roaming the castle about her and her monsters. She had flinched as wind blew into her tiny frame, sending goosebumps running down her skin and the scent of cherries into her nostrils.

A boy covered in cherry juice had startled her by opening a stray window.

Ali learned later that her brother’s favorite fruit was cherries.

She would go on to learn quite a lot of things about this boy. She would learn how he closed his eyes when he lied, liked strawberry ice-cream with chocolate syrup (never the other way around) and hated singing but would croon lullabies to her when she couldn’t sleep.

She would learn about his self-sacrificial nature, the way he forgave and forgot, how he scolded her whenever she tried to get revenge. The way he cocked his head when confused, or about to do something bad.

(The way he gurgled under her hands, blood trickling down his chin, the way he looked when facing death.)

Ali sighed. She had been jolted awake by a feeling that crawled under her skin-a warning. It didn't help that she had ended her daydream by re-living her worst nightmare. For a few more minutes, she laid in her bed, trying to drown in her sheets forever.

Another deep sigh escaped out her lips.

It was going to be a long day.

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The streets were empty.

 It was hardly surprising, considering the number of living beings she had killed, but nevertheless, it was disheartening. Her creatures were hungry for fresh blood, not sated with licking the occasional dried smudges on the pavement.

Overhead, tree branches stretched out toward the sun, as if the warmth would be able to bring back the children that once played on its swings. Defeated, but still hoping. Foolishly wishing. The sight irked her, somehow.

“Ali? Can you hear me?”

Her eyes snapped away from the trees.

Anjin had materialized above her, mockingly close yet disappearing at touch. Weary, Ali looked at the floating illusion her mind must have created. She was going mad, she knew, but it wasn’t like talking to him was going to hurt, right?

“I…can. Hear you, I mean.”

“Gosh, that’s great! I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to find you, and then I’d be lost in this town and—by the way, why are you in this dreadful town? It’s so…barren. Lifeless. No offence, sweetheart, but you need better taste in houses.”

“This is our town, Anjin.” Ali murmured, almost soft enough to be drowned in the wind.

“Our town?” Anjin cocked his head and—didn’t that bring back memories. It was unbearable. He had always haunted her, blood staining her hands and flashes of his corpse decorating her dreams.

 But he had never come to her so whole.

“Yeah.” Her stomach growled. Her creatures were getting impatient for food. “I have to go.”

“Don’t you think you’re being too curt? It’s been forever and a day since we met—hey! Wait! Wait for me Ali! I’m sorry!”

Anjin ran after her, translucent figure shimmering under the meagre sunlight.

This was bad. Her sight was becoming blurry, like it had started to do since she murdered Anjin. She had to find something to devour—and fast. But it wasn’t like there were anything left, in this broken town. What surrounded her was dead trees and cracked concrete, the occasional empty swing to remind her of what she had become.

There was nothing left—except for Anjin. But he was an illusion, a figment of reality. He couldn’t satiate her demons at all.

So, she ran.

Ran away from Anjin (she was going mad, crazy, delusional), away from her creatures (although that wasn’t possible) and away to find ‘food’ (she had killed them all, oh god).

Ran until darkness covered her sight, and everything went away.

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When Ali woke up, it was in the middle of what vaguely resembled a nuclear crime scene. Oozing tar seeped out of her, surrounding the ground and coating her clothes. All metal pieces had melted, creating a picture akin to the yin and yang symbol, with black tar and grey concrete mixing together.

Picking herself up from the ground, she looked around to find where Anjin had gone.

 She could see him behind a tree, but he was…flickering? Why would he be glitching like that? Curious, she stayed quiet. If she tried, she could catch snippets of Anjin’s voice, and it seemed like he was…talking.

“I…yes….I know, but….I don’t…”

As far as Ali was concerned, illusions didn’t talk. To people. Who she didn’t know.

Part of her wanted to roar out in betrayal—lash out in pain, destroy the boy who dared to copy her Anjin. But another part of her, a more dominant part of her, wanted to let it go. What was one more betrayal? She was already so lonely anyway; she was so tired.

“Anjin. Come out.” She watched as he came barreling out behind the tree, a waterfall of words crashing out his mouth.

“Ali! Are you okay? Are you sure? You lost consciousness and then your creatures came loose, and I was so worried!”

“I’m fine, Anjin.”

“Ali. You’re going to die, aren’t you?” An intake of breath. Concern in his eyes. Fists curled and knuckles white. “Is it because of your creatures? Because you have nothing to eat?”

“…Yeah.” And oh. Ali knew that face. She knew that face of helplessness, of pity and dismay. It wasn’t like she expected Anjin to magically make a living creature, just to serve it to her. He was far too kindhearted to live with the guilt. Besides, it wasn’t as though she didn’t want to die.

“It’s alright, though. I deserve to die, anyway. I’ve killed too many people.” She smiled as he slowly looked at her in understanding.

“You want to die.”

“Yes.” A beat of silence.

“…. Did you ever regret what you did?”

“I don’t think so.” Ali murmured, twisting a strand of hair in her hand. “Maybe.”

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He was sent here by Them. He was sent here to kill her. Now that she knew that she couldn’t keep it hidden forever—no matter how much she wanted to.

So she spoke.

“My enemies must have been more desperate than I thought, to create you.”

Ali watched as Anjin smiled, shocked, but not surprised. Her fingers ached to touch his face, smooth out his wrinkles on the corners of his eye. The copy of her brother was achingly similar to the real version, who was buried in her memories 6 feet deep.

“You know about me. Then you must know why I’m here.”

“You’ve got to murder me, don’t you?”

Truth was, Ali had expected this to happen. What she had done to her world was too big of a crime to go unnoticed, too big of a tragedy to go unpunished.

“How are you going to murder me, dear brother of mine? Can you even murder me? You may be a copy, but even I can see that you still love me.”

He wouldn’t be able to murder her. He was too perfect, too much like the real Anjin. Her enemies never did do anything half-heartedly. That would be the reason for their demise. For her demise, too.

Her face crumpled. “Why do you still smile? I am going to escape! The world has lost their name, everything’s been destroyed or have left. Hell, you died because of me! Why do you smile?”

“I smile because it’s better than crying, Ali.” Anjin said softly.

She had killed him with a knife. In a fit of rage, when she thought he was taunting her about Mother and Father.  

The thought came to her out of the blue, derived from the sadness Anjin displayed.

She remembered the cold metal edge slicing through warm skin and muscle, the smell of blood chocking up their tent. Blood had soaked hands, marking her as a murderer. She had washed herself for hours, soaked her skin till it shrivelled up, but the stench never really went away.

Anjin reached out and grabbed her waist. It was the first time he had touched her after they met.

“Let’s go home.”

Ali watched, in disbelief as Anjin started to crumple up, like the paper documents their father used to throw in the bin. She looked down as a tingling feeling spread through out her hands.

“So, this was the great plan? Making me disappear with you? I can’t believe I’m leaving so unoriginally.”

Her body was almost half gone now, the crumpled-up particles being blown away into nowhere by the wind. Overhead, a comet streaked across the sky.  

“Tell me. Did you regret...did you regret killing me?” His hands trembled as they held on to Ali.

“I don’t know, Anjin.” Ali silently swore.

All that was left of her was her head. Whatever this disintegrating thing was, it was fast. She wouldn’t be able to run away, or somehow nullify the effects.

She should be fighting, screaming at Anjin, at the world. No matter how tired she was, or how empty she felt, she was going to die at her own hands, never someone else’s. She had had enough of other people controlling her.

But she couldn’t bring herself to fight, not when she had been fighting her whole life. Not when her death, no matter how unintended, was so near, she could taste the peace it would bring. Not against Anjin.

Slowly, she watched as her skin turned golden, getting ripped up and torn to shreds. Surprisingly, it wasn’t painful at all, more ticklish. As her face slowly got overtaken by the golden flecks, her vision turned a murky black, and soon the world around her

disappeared.

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The world was left alone, with only 2 pairs of footsteps left in the swirling tar to prove the siblings existance.

That day marked the death of a criminal.

It also marked the death of a dearly beloved sister.