Both myself, Alicia, and my brother, Jordan, were raped, tortured and murdered at the young age of 12.
Before our lives came to a violent end, we were both suffering from what Jordan called 'anti-school syndrome' (A.S.S). We made it our tradition to skip classes together, and hike to the abandoned train station at the outskirts of town. It was our way of bonding with one another, as life back home wasn't exactly a paradise.
Father was an alcoholic, mother was a whore. Neither of them cared much about us. As far as they were concerned, both me and Jordan were just a few extra mouths to feed. The problem was, father could only give us beer and drugs, and mother.. Well, she ate most of her 'food' in the bedroom, with an unknown man being the desert.
So, we were forced to fend for ourselves. Acquiring the scraps the local fast food chain throws away. This was hardly a life for anyone, let alone two 12 year olds. And yet, it was the only life we were capable of living.
Fortunately, our days of living came to an abrupt end during our last train station adventure. Normally, we were the only two souls at the station during school hours. This time, however, a group of teenagers were throwing some form of party inside the station. There were around five boys aged between 15 and 17, and possibly two girls laying in the corner, passed out in their own urine and puke. The boys, who appeared to have been drinking only minutes before we had arrived, gazed their attention towards both me and Jordan. We were quietly standing in the doorway, observing the scene with watchful and curious eyes.
Jordan had hoped to join the teenagers in their wild party, but the teenagers had other agendas for the two of us.
You see, we had unknowingly witnessed the murder of Jessica, age 14, and Sue, age 19. Turns out, they weren't sleeping, and although we didn't actually see anything, the teenagers simply wouldn't allow us to leave.
One of the teens walked up to Jordan, and grabbed my brother by the throat. He then, with his other hand, reached for some kind of object, which looked like a large stick with barbed wire on the end.
He hesitated with the stick firmly in his hand, and took a deep look into my brothers eyes, as if to say "I'm sorry, but I have to hit you with this."
A second later, the stick became a moving blur, and a whipping sound broke through the air, followed by a loud 'smack' as the barbed wire drove deep within my brothers chest, drawing tiny pinholes of blood on his white shirt. Although Jordan was now crying out in pain, the teenager kept hitting him in his chest, harder and faster with every blow he takes.
But he didn't stop there. After a puddle of my brothers blood formed by his feet, and his shirt completely soaked in red, the teenager chose a new target.
Without mercy, the teen started to jam the same, now bloody, barbed wire stick into my brothers groin area, causing him to scream louder than even the most wicked of animals. Even though i wasn't being held, I couldn't run away from this madness. My legs just didn't want to move, and upon trying, ended up forcing my legs to collapse from under me, shoving me face-first into my dying brothers pool of blood.
My movement, unfortunately, attracted the attention of the other teenagers in the station, and as my brother is being murdered before my eyes, a horde of teens made-way to my body, dragging me by my ankles into the other room.
My brother, now out of sight, is no longer crying. However, the sound of the angry teen hitting my brothers body can still be heard in my mind. I can still see his eyes glistening with tears. I can still...
No, I can't. I can't see or hear him anymore. He's gone. He's dead. Jordan is dead.
The group of teens that surround me have vanished away into a flurry of hands, all reaching towards me, grabbing and ripping at my clothes until they had all been removed.
I knew what was coming. I knew what they were going to do, having seen my mother in a similar situation as myself.
I decided to close my eyes, and just let it happen.
I first felt pain, then pleasure, then numbness, and then nothing at all.
Short Story - Issue #3