You Crazy Diamond [Original] / / Prologue + Chapter 1
Fandom:
Original title: You Crazy Diamond
Beta: dylan_mx \u0026lt;3
Rating: orange
Warning: strong content (mental illness, attempted murder / suicide)
Chapter: Prologue + 1 of 4
Notes: [Written for the BigBang Italy!] this story is definitely one of my experiment, both the writing style is completely different from what I usually do (very little dialogue, very few if not zero and above zero sex scenes funny), but I came and so I wanted to try bring it to the end. The name Thomas is stolen from the false name of the Master on Doctor Who, and also the name of his father. Happy reading ^ ^
Introduction: Returning from a summer internship Mihail Kivic ', a high school student, discovers that his cousin Thomas, which are not even aware of their existence, it has installed at his home. After a while the newcomer begins to attempt on the life of Mihail looking to mutilate and kill him from that moment Kivic 'attempts to dig into the past of his cousin to find out the reason for his behavior and groped to remove him from himself and his family.
Gifter: harriet_yuuko (thanks a lot, the gift is wonderful * w *) Link to
gift: Here \u0026lt;3
Prologue - Before Crisis
At first shaken by the wind sets Mr. Mistache slowly opened one eye sleepily and looked upon the room: he realized immediately that the whiteness of the walls, usually blinding was reduced to a dirty gray and the sky outside the open window seemed darker than ever, as was already late evening and early afternoon. Thomas was still at the window as always, still watching the sky, the huge garden that surrounded the building and the coming and going of nurses and doctors became more frantic as the storm approached. The tax slammed again by making a small leap to Thomas, but despite everything the child does not shut the window, or tried to block the dark: he stayed there, motionless, eyes fixed on Mr. Brum that swept the dry leaves from land, there outside in the garden.
Mr. Brum was probably one of the first patients of the hospital, but despite being there for over twenty years, no one, neither doctors nor patients had never seen him do something other than sweeping dry leaves, whatever the season. Each morning he rose early, dressed, grabbed her broom and shovel and went out into the garden that it was still dark, and remained there throughout the day, going up and down, constantly going over under the trees, where he always found something to sweep. The nurses had to take the food out at night and forced him by force to return to sleep, otherwise the Mr. Brum would remain in the garden at night.
If you ask a question or were trying to attack button he replied with a grunt, at most two. But now the nurses had given up trying to talk to him and the patients were too taken by them to be able to watch a man so insignificant and negligible, which is not excelled neither physical prowess nor intellect. The only one who spent time with him was Thomas, but to be honest it would be more accurate to say that the two were often in the same place at once, but there was no sharing between them, let alone a tie. The child went out into the garden and watched the man who swept, nothing more. Watching him and thinking constantly what was stupid to spend your time to sweep away the leaves in autumn, because after five minutes so it would impact exactly where the gentleman had already cleaned. When
over tax also slammed the window, with a great crash of glass, Mr. Mistache decided to get up close to everything: you twist the large thin mustache with his fingers and then, with his hands propped on the arms of poltrona, si alzò lentamente, barcollando un poco. He was not used to move, even the doctors had advised against it, since his every action there is a catastrophe for those who stood by and himself. Thomas did not move when the man came near him shakily, when with no obvious difficulty leaned over to close the tax, did not move, but took over in his mind a short sequence of images, small enough thrust, the flight and the lifeless body of Mr. Mistache down on the sidewalk below the window. The boy shook his head slightly, letting the images will dissolve on their own while the man returned to his tottering chair, window and set both secure.
Mrs. Millicent Marrel had been accustomed, during his long career as a cleaning lady, caregivers and baby-sitter, to see more and more children left alone by their parents, while being small and well fed and clothed for were in fact abandoned by absent fathers and mothers too busy to look after the offspring. And every child to vent their loneliness in a different way, or by turning in on themselves, or looking for contacts outside the family, or in attitudes capricious and intractable. After more than forty years spent in cleaning glass, take care of grandparents and children to look after Mrs. Marrel believed to have seen everything that could and should see, but when he entered the room of Thomas Saxon, the only son of rich family, realized that the child was not normal. He had a sweet smile that would melt anyone, two eyes of a bright green, live like never before, and looked so innocent that really seemed the quintessence of tenderness, only that his favorite pastime was the tear with a pair of scissors most beautiful eyes to her stuffed animals, or open his belly to empty it then close it. And as long as they were stuffed animals was good, they do not put your hands on some small animal or a butterfly. Thomas Saxon because he loved what was beautiful to see, he loved to take and keep it to themselves to consider only his own, do whatever he wanted, stroking or open it in two, analyze it piece by piece. All this made him very happy and satisfied. But he was interested in the things aesthetically beautiful, beauty itself became boring after a while: he wanted things that were tenderness, which could dissolve the thick veil of apathy that enveloped him constantly. Made him feel alive and then here that he wanted, not wanted to leave him ever, at any time and the only way for this to happen was to move them no more: they would remain fixed, real estate, where there would him, until he had not changed.
Also that day, the nurse scolded him in front of everyone and had returned all'appartamentino in a bad mood, knowing that Vera needed a good clean and that Claude was undoubtedly a big asshole. Not to mention the director who had responded poorly a couple of times and that he had totally ignored despite working less than two feet away from each other. Mihail Kivic 'stared at her pale reflection on the bathroom mirror, running a hand through his hair: he was tired, tired, and had to work for two weeks. He felt in his heart that would be two weeks long. He looked at his legs by counting the bruises thighs: it does not hurt, but a little impression. He had only to bump into a chair or on the edge of the carriage and here he found himself in the evening or blackish purple spots on the skin. He looked at his hands and found them full of calluses. He took a mental note to go to have them removed once the season ended, he wanted to regain its soft, white hands to-nothing.
sigh emerged from the bathroom: he missed home, was tired and could not wait to slip under the covers of his bed and sleep until noon. Throwing weight on the mattress of a think about what would happen to spent those two weeks, returning home after so long time (actually it was only three months, but he seemed like an eternity) would be strange, see his parents, start school and so on. Would return to tease his sister, to go to the library with Sladjan, to make the line, Karen ... his father had mentioned that they hosted in their house for some time a cousin of his fifth or more grade: not l & rsquo ; had ever seen and honestly, so it was taken from work, did not feel even the curiosity to meet him. Both had before still fucking fourteen days, and his cousin was the last of his thoughts.
1 - Hold out your hand and you'll tear your arm
When Mihail staggering down the train dragging with difficulty the two bags he was carrying at the start was his mother waiting for him on the dock, all anxious and agitated , as his father, in the car, barely holding back the emotion. He did not feel all that enthusiasm: he was happy to be back home, but he felt tired as ever, devoid of any emotion, and the only thought that kept repeating itself while the guests' belongings and threw it in the back seat was to jump in bed just arrived and not wake up the next morning.
Too bad that when he arrived home the bed was already occupied. Mihail
stared for a few seconds the boy sitting on his bed, reading a book and not a book any, his "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac, one of the books he loved most. And most of all was a gift from Karen, so he wanted particularly. He heard behind him his mother telling him that the boy was the famous cousin came to stay with them, but it sounded like a distant echo, and totally ignored.
did not care who he was, he just wanted to recover the book, the bed and get some sleep.
\u0026lt; Hello.>
He blinked his eyes a few times, putting a few seconds to realize that his cousin had been talking, the boy got out of bed and held out his right.
\u0026lt;My name is Thomas.> Is simple, still holding the book in his left hand. Mihail
no reply, but shook my hand staring at the book, Thomas had to realize for a while in force since adopted a pained and muttered something.
\u0026lt;How?>
\u0026lt;I'm sorry that I have read the book without your permission, but they were centuries it was looking at the library and have never able to find ...>
Mihail was suddenly seized with remorse, perhaps for the expression so sweet cousin, maybe her voice soft and sincere, and at that moment there was really an asshole.
\u0026lt;Never mind, quiet. You can read it.>
\u0026lt;Safe?>
\u0026lt;Sure, no problem.>
Mihail Thomas smiled and felt the guilt slipping off: he had the feeling of being less asshole. You could see the fatigue on his face and quickly dismissed after his cousin, the boy took off in a hurry and stuck his under the covers. Did not have time to reflect on that meeting or that he was really back home: Just lower your eyelids fell into a deep sleep without dreams.
Thomas closed the door behind him to his room, the guest room, and we leaned back. He threw the book with little regard on the bed and smiled, happy, too happy. His cousin was cute, it was really nice.
The thought gave him constant shivers down the spine.
not beautiful, but cute, with those eyes narrow, dark, and reddish-brown hair, cut short. And those fingers, the hand is beautiful, thin, tapered ... already had one look and knew the physical aspect of his cousin to perfection. It was just the kind he liked, the one that made it attractive bare neglect even a normal person. He was lucky, very lucky. He almost cried with joy, but knew not to do so.
was in a relative's house, after all: it had to behave. But those hands ...
After that first meeting did not Mihail virtually any contact with his cousin. His time was short and he spent it all out, to renew contact with classmates in the library and study like crazy: all summer had not the slightest touch of a school book, had not even begun the tasks they were assigned and had it not been for Sladjan, his best friend who spent all he could, he would fall a prey to anxiety within a week.
The school started again soon, the news were so many, new teachers, new friends and old who came to changing class or branch of study, at Mihail head was spinning for all those changes. And Thomas was left the last of his thoughts.
The only event worthy of mention was that Sladjan was a Sunday at home with her to translate a Latin version, and found himself face to face with the host. Or rather, he found intent to tinker in the kitchen: it was one of the main occupations of Thomas in those days, cooking. Probably there was a particular satisfaction, because it made him very happy, accompanying their actions with tunes whistled or sung. Mihail Sladjan and began studying at the kitchen table and Thomas was whistling a happy background, even relaxed, at least that was what he thought was the landlord. But the friend was of another opinion: at first said nothing about it, never spoke with Thomas, I hardly even looked at him, but made it clear in the following days with brief allusions and silences that the boy did not like to nothing.
Mihail When asked why only replied that he did not like her look, but the other did not understand or at least not right away.
He understood what he meant only the evening of the first day of school. At the sound of the bell he found his cousin in the same class. Initially it was not a little surprised, had not posed the slightest problem in that school or class that would have been Thomas, did not even know how old he was!
When the new guy sat down next to him Mihail noticed a flash of hatred in the eyes of the friend who, without saying anything, sat down in front of them, her back to him. Her cousin began to speak did not have a specific argument and made a few questions, was limited mostly to share his ideas on everything you could think of.
\u0026lt;Have you ever played the piano?>
The brown turned to each other, baffled: yes, he played piano for a couple of years, but without much enthusiasm, as he answered him and said he noticed watched as his cousin's hands, and knew cos'intendeva Sladjan: it was not a bad look or sweet or particularly unpleasant, but he was ill. Obsessive, to be precise. For a brief moment of madness had the urge to portray Mihail hands, to hide under the desk or in their pockets because he had the absurd feeling that the other would suddenly snatch. But he restrained himself and the entry of the professor turned away by the attention of his cousin.
The rest of the day passed without major incidents, except for some strange reason Sladjan avoided as much as Mihail Thomas, especially if the two were together, that is almost always because the newcomer had attacked the other guy sucker decided not to leave him. The Romanian initially resented it a bit 'of that abandonment by Sladjan, but knew each other and thought he understood what had happened: had probably misunderstood, he thought that some foolish reason Mihail Thoms had found a new best friend. It would be all in the past few days, the boy I was quite certain.
the cousins back home do not even speak, Mihail shut himself up in the room determined not to leave until they had finished the two pages of math that's missing, but about eight o'clock in the evening he was forced to yield to the rumbling of his stomach. Dinner
Thomas spoke unusually so: he seemed enthusiastic about the school, described with admiration the dean and the professors, was praise for each classmate. Already knew exactly name of all. Mihail felt very uncomfortable if he thought that after three years still confused his companions to each other.
After dinner he tried once more with math, but after having cursed through clenched teeth for an hour on the string built on the hypotenuse parallel to the catheter and left a pen and paper scattered on the table and went to sleep.
He must have turned off the light for a long time and was almost unable to sleep when a strange creaking sound from behind the door to him from dozing like a cold shower: he knew perfectly well that her parents were asleep for a while ', as usual . That Thomas was? Maybe he was going to the bathroom and then had to walk past his room ... He did not move to keep listening, just screwing up his eyes. He counted up, without haste and arrived in seven of his bedroom he heard the door open to come: the shadow that crept in was undoubtedly that of his cousin, he could smell it and timing of light footsteps left no doubt . Mihail
stood still, some curled up on one side, one arm under the pillow and the other inert hanging from one side of the bed, perhaps Thomas was lonely, perhaps she wanted to talk, to open up to him and tell him word for word each his doubt, every fear. Maybe he wanted to explain his attitude, because he was totally incoherent ways, the day before posted and dumb, the next friendly and talkative.
In any case he would not move of his own: if the other wanted to talk, well, would wake to the sound of shudder.
Thomas knelt at the foot of the bed without making any noise, Mihail could hear his breathing light brush against your face, the other gently grabbed his left wrist and out of bed, to the astonishment of the fake sleeping, bent and the face on him and kissed the back of his hand.
Then suddenly raised his arm and down with fury, the other was an iron grip on the wrist. Mihail did not even notice what time to appeal against his cousin, he reacted instinctively to the first movement, turning sharply on the back and locking the arm of the aggressor.
Maybe the cousin did not expect a reaction, maybe it was really so weak, or maybe he did not care much about losing a hand to hand, the fact is that after a brief moment of deadlock Mihail threw all his strength Thomas against the closet, away from him. There was a metallic clang and then more nothing. The assailed
got out of bed and turned on the light in a hurry: his cousin was on the ground, leaning against the wing of the cabinet and face more relaxed in the world. A kitchen knife was sharper than those on the ground, equal distance between the two boys. For security
Mihail picked it up and put him on the bed, away from the other: Thomas did not seem willing to stand up, but it was better not to risk it.
They looked for what seemed an eternity to both. The brown felt his heart beating a thousand for terror, and the only thing I could think of was that her parents had not even woken up, but seemed to have made a great noise, especially for the knife. And then the knife ... Jesus, what the hell he wanted to do other one? Cut off a hand? It seemed so, or perhaps ran too much imagination.
not know whether to ask him, what he had in mind. Or perhaps the wisest thing to do was to immediately inform his parents, or crush a bit 'before asking for explanations. But it was all so absurd ... how could he tell her?
"Mom, Dad, you'll never believe, but my cousin came in my room in the middle of the night with a kitchen knife and tried to cut off a hand. "
sounded absurd and indeed it was ... they would have taken for crazy, they would have laughed at you.
Or, more simply, would have thought a few fits of jealousy, a sort of revenge because he did not feel quite pampered and revered after spending the past three months away from home to work, like a baby envious of his younger brother, the newcomer. They would think that just trying to make Thomas look bad, like a mischievous kid.
The very idea of being considered so by his parents made him spend the want to say a syllable on the subject.
\u0026lt;Why?>
The question came out spontaneously. Thomas looked a bit 'perplexed: he had not moved an inch all the time.
\u0026lt;Do you have beautiful hands.>
Mihail felt a sinking heart: no sane mind would ever give a similar response.
\u0026lt;So what?> Asked hesitantly.
\u0026lt;Well, I wanted to.>
The lot turned her head, sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair: he wanted to ask him to leave, but was not sure it was a wise move
Thomas stood panting, fearing a new attack Mihail feverishly studied his moves, but the other walked casually toward the door.
\u0026lt;Good night, cousin.> And that he went out without another word.
Before he realized what he was doing the boy closed the door in case the other to change his mind and returned back to try to slice it again.
He stood for a few seconds before collapsing on the bed now that was just how strong he felt his heart beating, while the whole body was shivering with cold and fear.
His cousin had tried to tear him to pieces, his cousin had tried to tear him to pieces in the middle of the night in his house!
Surely his parents would not have never believed, could hardly believe it himself! If it were not for the knife lying beside him on the bed would not have believed, and took the gun and ran a finger along the blade was cold and very real. Put on the table, deciding to wait for the next day to put it back in the drawer. Again, if not completely crazy before reaching the next morning ...
had a mad house, a sick, totally crazy!
Mihail was afraid, not knowing where to turn. He got up, turned a little about the room, but my legs did not support him well, shaking continuously and had resided.
We would try again? He tried to attack him again?
The next day should go to school together, he had hundreds of opportunities to do: push him under a car, strangled in an empty classroom, throw it down the stairwell ...
closed his eyes, lying and trying to sleep but every effort proved to be increasingly futile.
Eventually, exhausted, collapsed, falling into a restless sleep, full of hands, amputated, walked on his fingers dancing a macabre tap.
Day next Mihail did not go to school.
had no difficulty to convince his parents to feel bad: the short and troubled sleep together with the shock of the day before you could read clearly on his face, because he seemed to faint at any moment.
spent the day in her room, in bed. The door had closed a key after positioning the knife and was planning to reopen soon.
The moves of the woman were rapid, precise, impeccable: way to be able to cut the vegetables to make each piece the same size, it took a lot of experience, this Thomas was certain. He continued to watch the nurse who prepared the meal: Do not mess with the other, usually consumed their meal in the room. He had a special diet and doctors preferred not to bring food to the other patients, there were too many things to which he was allergic, things that hurt and worsened his condition
A little 'sorry, he wanted to eat with others, feel a bit 'in company ... There were no other children in the hospital, but Thomas liked being with the old, he liked to listen to them. He believed that older people become their own stories to tell. He smiled as he threw up
look to the kitchen where it was in theory could not go in there, but he knew the nurse, a stupid woman, naive, so naive that was enough lavorarsela a couple of times to get permission to secretly sneak behind her to assist in the preparation of his meal.
secure the blade to cut fast, rhythmic, sparkling in the light of the kitchen floor. He wanted to be able to make himself as the young lady, so still have a pulse, the strength to cut away the first time, like a real chef. Unfortunately knew he could not even touch the knives, the upper floors had given very strict rules: no can stab had to be left where he could find it. Not one.
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