“You’re a wicked girl, you know that?” the boy told his sister. “You’re a wicked, horrible person, and if mother ever found out about what you’ve done she’d disown you!” Brian glared down at his sister, and then continued to brush her hair when she refused to answer.
Teresa’s room was bright and pink, with a whole wall dedicated to a mirror and her various beauty appliances.
“Vain. That’s what Pastor Redlyn would call you. Vain and haughty and smug.” He jeered at her, but she only stared ahead as he continued to brush her fine, long hair. Brian lowered his head to her ear. “I know about Michael too,” he whispered. “How you said you were only doing homework when mother asked for you at the Bible study, but I know what you were really doing.”
He sneered at her, hoping for her to respond, to deny it, to talk back or call him a liar. Teresa stared forward, her hollow eyes seeing nothing.
“You were f******!” Brian whispered. “I know because I was under the bed.” Teresa said nothing.
“You asked him to eat you, and then he started rocking the bed.” Brian’s became more and more hysterical. “You were screaming and moaning and shouting, and then you told him to stop but he didn’t!”
Brian put the hairbrush down, and picked up a mascara brush.
“Then you were both screaming and moaning and f****** and when he stopped he told you he loved you.” Brian dipped the brush into the mascara. He leaned in to her cheek, planting a soft kiss and whispered ever so softly to her. “But he didn’t. He left you for that band girl Catie. And then he screamed and moaned and shouted and told her he loved her, but I bet he didn’t.”
Brian began to put the mascara on her eyelashes, being as delicate as he could for each one, afraid they might fall off.
“When mother got home from the Bible study, you told her you were just doing homework with Michael, and he went out the window without mother knowing. I should have told her but I didn’t, and then when you found out about Catie you cried and cried and had your period when you finally shut up.” Teresa stared ahead, unscathed and unhurt by her brother’s words.
“And then became a slut, and boys would call you pretty and put their hands between your legs and you’d let them f*** you until your p**** was raw and then you’d tell them to make it wet again. Then they’d tell you they loved you and would never leave you, but they did. I know, because I heard them, and I heard you. All you’re crying and moaning and begging. But now it’s different.”
Brian lifted his sister’s face from the vanity table, and pulled it onto his own. After fitting it with duct tape, he reached for his prize.
“They always said that your hair was so pretty, that was the first thing they always said. I know, because I was listening. But they never said I was pretty.” Brian glowered at his sister’s skull, every inch of skin meticulously scratched off, he knew, because he had done it himself.
“I came out from under the bed when you went to distract mother, and I told Michael that he could do whatever he wanted to me, that I was just as good as my older sister was.” He picked up Teresa, she couldn’t smile anymore. The first thing he had done was take her teeth out. “He laughed at me and told me that he wasn’t a “f****** q****” and that I should just kill myself, but I didn’t.”
Brian put down the skull and picked up her scalp, her hair perfect and golden and silky, just as he remembered it. He could wash the blood out, the blood wasn’t the problem.
“Now boys will call me pretty and put their hands between my legs and squeeze me. I’ll never say no, and then we’ll moan and scream and shout and he’ll tell me he loves me, but this time he’ll mean it!”
Brian pinned her hair perfectly to the top of his own scalp. He’d shaved his head just so that it would fit and look normal.
“And I won’t cry and cry, because he won’t leave me! Unless he dies, but then I’ll find someone else, and I won’t cry and scream and beg like you did. I won’t grovel for mercy or lie about making me pretty! You did! You cried and screamed and begged and groveled and lied to me! You told me that you could make me pretty, but I knew you couldn’t! And then you just screamed and screamed and screamed until I was done.”
Brian brushed his sister’s hair, and tried to wash the blood out at the sink.
“But now you’re all quiet, and I’m the pretty one. I’m the one boys will call pretty and grab me between my legs and tell me they love me, but they’ll be telling the truth this time! You’ll see.”
A shout from downstairs called Brian away from the mirror. “TERESA! BRIAN! I’M HOME!”
Brian smiled at his sister through her lips. “You’ll see. I’ll show mother first, and she’ll tell me how proud she is of me! Then I’ll show you each one of them, and they’ll tell you how pretty I am. You’ll see.”