Cain is for Charlie

Cain is for Charlie

I never meant to kill him. Really. It was simply meant to teach him a lesson. How was I supposed to know that knives were so sharp and flesh so soft? But I loved him, loved him like a brother. How could they say I killed him?

The blood still drips off my fingers. Shining trickles of coppery blood. Why is blood always coppery? Why not some other metal? I lift up a hand and lick it. The blood tastes metallic. Still warm blood. His blood was also warm. Somehow, this tastes different. I'm still alive.

He always loved me. Always cared for me. Always supported me, regardless. When I decided that I wanted to be a dragon handler, mother rebelled, but he talked her around. Softly, calmly, he got her to agree. I could have never done that. I loved him for it. Worshipped him really. Like an idol. My beautiful younger brother. The rational, sane one.

He wasn't so rational before death though. He looked at me with those blue eyes, those eyes I could never resist. Those accusing blue eyes. Why? He had asked. Pleaded. Begged.

I was ready to spare him up to the last second. Even though he had betrayed me. Betrayed us. Betrayed our entire family. Betrayed everything we stood for. I was ready to spare him up until the instant the blade sliced through that soft white neck.

They thought I was insane when they found me standing over the body of my dead brother and laughing. But I couldn't stop. It was funny how my brother was dead. Funny how I would never see, never touch, him again. Funny how he who controlled every aspect of his life could not foresee or control his death. It was simply hilarious so I threw my head back and laughed.

It's his fault that our family won't speak to me now. Oh they come and visit. Standing there and looking at me in my sterile white room. But they won't speak to me. If only he had listened to my reasons. Then perhaps I wouldn't have had to kill him.

They always say that murder is addictive. I disagree. The actual murder is something best done over with in an instant. It is the moments after. The feeling of life slipping away. The slight regret. The discovery. The accusing eyes. It's those feelings that are addictive. Like the sweetness of Firewhiskey.

I still see his head in my dreams. His beautiful face on that severed bloody head. And my hands always drip blood.

They say I killed him for pride. That I couldn't stand having a Death Eater in the family. They are wrong. I didn't kill him because he was a Death Eater. I simply went to warn him that we weren't going to tolerate his actions any more. That his older brother was going to set a good example and teach him. That he would have to learn.

He didn't learn well. So I had to kill him. Then I watched as the blood trickled away and his body turned cold.

It's cold in here sometimes too. A penetrating bone-chilling coldness. Like an icy backward breeze. At these times I can see his face. The face of my brother. Sometimes accusing. Sometimes sad. Sometimes old. Sometimes young.

The face changes so often. But the steady dripping stays the same. The dripping from the sawed off neck.

He sometimes smiled at me and in those instances I remember our happy childhood. But mostly he simply looks on impassively from beyond the grave. Calm. Not a judge, but an observer.

I still love him. He will always be here with me. Here with me in the dripping coming from the head posted in the corner. The overpowering smell. The curiously tranquil face.

My beautiful brother Percy.

Author Notes: Yes I know that Charlie is somewhat OOC, but we don't really get to know him that well in canon, do we? For all we know, he could have a homicidal streak. And before I get told off by people who know more about biblical references than I do, no I do not know how Cain killed Abel, but it is most likely not in this way. My inspiration for this was actually Robert Ludlum's Bourne Trilogy rather than the bible, though the latter did play a significant role. According to Ludlum, Cain was used in the Vietnam War instead of Charlie in communications. Hence the title, Cain is for Charlie. Flames for my being a twisted person are very welcome. They will merely be used to stoke the fires of Hell. After all, nobody ever said that I was a nice person.