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RP: Crazy In Love ( Horror_Show & Blue Hatter)

Horror_Show

Supernova
Joined
Feb 15, 2010
Chloe clocked out of her shift and was untying her apron while leaving the little coffee shop. It was six in the morning and the sun was just starting to peek its head out. It was the end of August and it was crisp cool morning, fall was just around the corner. She walked to her old beat up cavalier and slid inside leaning back against the seat exhausted. She had worked a double to cover for one of the other girls. There wasn’t really a Starbucks anywhere close, the closet one was at the other end of town so to make a bigger profit, her little coffee shop stayed open 24/7.

Chloe had been working there since she was fifteen and now on the edge of seventeen she was a manager and night shift leader. She normally worked 3rds so during the day she could sleep and focus on her online classes. She had basically finished all of her high school credits and was taking free local online community college courses. At the end of the year she would be able to transfer to the college on a scholarship.


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Chloe started car, it luckily got her from point A to B. She turned off her car and headed up to the little three bedroom house she had grown up in and upon letting herself in she saw her mother passed out on the couch, she had been smoking pot and drinking. Chloe wasn’t surprised and just rolled her eyes and continued to the kitchen. Chloe mother was a hippie that had never quite grown up. It also didn’t help that six months ago they had lost Vincent. Vincent was her older brother; he had been hit by a bus and ran over. That night he had been at a frat party with a bunch of his college a friend when it happened. Their mother hadn’t taken it too well and had gone into a depression. Chloe picked up more hours so she could help with the bills and save, Vincent had supported them with his own work while in school, things had been rough since Katrina.

Heading to her room she shut the door and kicked off her flats and collapsed on her bed not even caring she was sweaty and smelled like coffee. She rolled over and as her long sleeve shirt rolled up a little you could see fresh bandages, Chloe was a bad cutter and had been, she wasn’t suicidal but it was her way of dealing with her emotions. On the outside she functioned normally.

The sun was starting to come up but she had black out curtains so it helped with making the room darker in the day so she could sleep. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

What she didn’t know was her fantasies and nightmares were about to intertwine giving her one hell of a Halloween this year. Her brother, who had been sitting in a city morgue longer than usual because of the crime of someone running him over, gave room for a couple of local young witches access to him. They had been at the frat party, they had been the reason shit had gone to hell and carefully constructed him back together in the more gruesome way. They did a ritual and re-animated the young boy. He looked like a walking corpse but still held the beauty he always did. The girls had been keeping them at their place but one wanted to send him back home knowing he had family. He was a little more functioning but his limb attachment scars were still a little gross, still healing. They had decided that evening to drop him off. He really only came back for one reason, Chloe, he had to protect her even if he was dead.

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8:30 P.M.

Chloe had gone into a deep sleep, sleeping way to many hours after her double. Almost over ten when she stirred. She wouldn’t know Vincent was standing there creepily watching her for hours. He had snuck in hours ago. He didn’t want to disturb her sleep; he also didn’t want to reveal himself to his mother. Things had gotten worse and it angered him how she hadn’t gotten her act together, even after he supposedly died. She should have been in rehab and working to support Chloe, not the other way around.

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Chloe groaned out and rolled over feeling so bad, so fucking tired. She rubbed her eyes, as there were a lot of sleepies in them and immediately felt someone’s presence and darted her eye’s up and saw Vincent. She gasped out and jerked back on the bed crying out. He held out his hands to try to calm her. There was no fucking way he could be alive, so her first thought was she was hallucinating, a side effect from all her anti-depressants. She whined out with tears forming and was back against her headboard.

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“Who the fuck are you!” She yelled crying uncontrollably, falling apart. Both of her shirtsleeves were rolled up and would reveal her arms were bandaged.

Then to Vincent dismay, the door opened and it was their mother. Her reaction was just as dramatic but not as emotional. She saw Vincent and fell to her knees with hands over her mouth. Vincent’s concern was Chloe as she was cowering in a hot mess on the bed. He would try to reach out and she would shriek and crawl off the bed stumbling, she shoved him away making him stumble back as she darted out of her room jumping over her Mother. Her feet would push hard as she ran for the front door. She was half asleep and stumbled hitting the coffee table and cried out cursing already in tears. She fell against the front door and turned to see Vincent looking at her oddly. With her back to the front door, her hand was on the handle as Vincent slowly made haste to get to her before she ran out manic. His hand slammed the door back close, one arm over her as she faced him. She cried out and tried to once again shove him but he forced her back. Somehow her hands were around his neck trying not to fall, to stablize her body. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion, that time was going to collaspe.

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^^^thought that was hot, couldnt resist to put it in lol sorry :/

“Fuck…. Vincent.” She breathed out and was violently turned and forced against the door with Vincent hungrily looking into her eyes. In moments she fell unconscious and he caught her.


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Most of the events of "that night" were still a blur the the young man. He had went to a party with some college buddies, which for him was something somewhat out of character, he rarely went to any such parties but for one reason or another he had decided to go. There he mingled with his friends and other party-goers, he drank a little bit, goofed around, and just overall tried to enjoy the rather noisy atmosphere, which wasn't easy, he was far from a lover of big parties. At one point he had gotten into an argument with another one of the guests, what this argument was about no one else was quite sure or even cared enough to pay attention to, and Vincent had stormed out. And as he stomped his way across the street, without even paying attention to his surroundings, he had been struck by an oncoming city bus. He had died almost immediately upon impact.

But he couldn't remember any of that now. All he could remember was noise, immense pain, and then... blackness. Everything else was a blur, a mess, missing. Somehow, for some reason, he had been brought back to life by a group of self-proclaimed witches, something he had never thought existed or possible, but nonetheless there he was, alive. Or, well, at least not dead, but he couldn't really be called "alive" per se. His brain had ceased function for far too long leading to an immense loss of memory and even some motor function. He was, in a sense, Frankenstein's monster, cobbled together from bits and pieces of flesh, bone and muscle, some not even his, and his body showed evidence of the gruesome scars where he had been stitched back together, scars that not yet healed and, considering that he wasn't truly alive, so to speak, the scars would take quite some time to heal, if they ever did. His heart was not working, his blood was not pumping, so his body was cold to the touch and his movements were slow and sluggish.

The witches had kept him for a while, some to experiment and observe, but they also helped him regain some of his functions. It had been a slow process but after some time he could finally walk again, he could move about on his own, think on his own, interact with the world, but he could not speak, not yet, thanks to the large slash across his throat that had severed his vocal chords. The cut had been sloppily stitched back together-- these girls were witches, after all, not surgeons-- but his vocal chords were still in tatters. They had healed somewhat, and he could utter a few low grunts and groans to express himself, which was encouraging, all things considered. Thanks to a bit of witchly magic his flesh would not rot, not for a while, anyway, and this same magic was keeping him function, it was keeping him "alive".

It also took quite some time before he began to finally regain some of his memories. His short term memory was gone, he still couldn't remember anything about the night that he had died or even anything from the weeks before it, but he did, over time, regain some of his stronger memories, memories that had been burned into his brain and would always be part of him, mainly his family-- his mother and sister-- and his home, what he had been doing to help them, and what his mother had been doing to him. He remembered some other things, too... Love, fear, anger, hatred, jealousy, lust and greed. Sentiments that most mortals would take for granted but for him to remember such things were quite a step.

It wasn't long after this that the witches began to debate what to do with him. It was unlikely he could ever be reintroduced into normal society, and if he was he would probably become nothing more than a science experiment in someone's lab, not to mention that it would put the witches in great danger if anyone found out about them. But one of the witches believed that he should go back to his family, if even just temporarily, despite the risks. It took some convincing but the others finally agreed. Vincent, however, wasn't so sure that it was such a good idea.

Nonetheless he had been returned to his home, though he had been dead for so long than he wasn't sure if he could really even consider the place "home" anymore. The path up the stairs and to the front door was a familiar one to him, as was the house key hidden under the third rock to the right under a bush, and he quietly opened the door and slipped inside. He gave the witches one last look, debating if he should just leave now and forget about this silly endeavor, but instead he closed the front door and moments later he heard the car speed off.

Seeing as mother passed out on the couch was of no surprise to him, it was a rather usual sight, he recalled, especially after she made him do what she did, after she would force him into her bed each night and screw him until the drugs took over and she collapsed on him. What was even worse was the fact that he actually found pleasure in the sex with his mother, she had almost conditioned him to her, and even know he could feel his manhood beginning to stiffen under his jeans at the very sight of his mother, and he felt disgusted by it. Perhaps he really was no better than she was. Maybe he was just as disgusting as she was.

But as horrid as his mother made him feel, as did his own conditioned urges, there was one bright light at the end of his otherwise bleak and lonely tunnel: his sister, Chloe. He adored her, he always had, and in life he would have done anything for her. In death, well, he wasn't entirely sure if there was anything he could do for her, but she was the reason he was here now, she was the reason he didn't run away.

And now he stood before her after revealing himself to her and being discovered by their mother. She was against the front door, pushed there by him perhaps a bit too forcefully-- he still hadn't fully regained control of his body, he still couldn't entirely control his strength and sometimes he would use too much or not enough without meaning to-- and he held her there, gazing into her eyes with a hungry but sorrowful look.

"It... o-okay..." he managed to hiss out from his broken vocal chords. "Don't... af'aid..."
 
Chloe had let one harsh ragged breath out as she collapsed into his cold arms looking up at him with brimmed reddened eyes, her youthful eye’s were so full of life, pain, despair and fear. Confusion was written all over her face and being man handled by her dead brother and spoken to on such a different level let her be in his grasp for just a few long moments before she passed out. Her body would be carried easily bridal style, not to her room but to his old room, which was still kept the same, just a little messier. Chloe’s body would be limp but still pumping with life; her body would be so warm, so soft against his own. The blood that ran through her veins was his blood; you could see similar facial features they shared. There mother had once long ago been a beautiful young woman, much like Chloe before drugs and the sixties and an abusive husband had taken that all away.


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Their mother who looked like she was suffering from a hang over barely able to even really function was leaning against the doorway as if seeing a ghost.

“It can’t be…. my boy? My precious beautiful golden boy!” She exclaimed and stumbled in nearly knocking over a couple things before catching her self. She would bend down almost completely falling on Vincent but he was able to hold her weight effortlessly as she drooled and whimpered about seeing him again. Her hands would roam his body in a fashion that a mothers shouldn’t, even if it was seeing her reanimated son. Thankfully Chloe was passed out as this was happening so close within her proximity.

“They told me you was dead.” She cried and began slobbering him with lazy kisses. He had to deal with that for some time before she sobered up enough to see Chloe, her daughter had passed out at the sight of him and with the cold and vacant looks she was getting from her son she was smart enough to go back to the living room where she drank the rest of a bottle. Perhaps she thought she was hallucinating as well.





A few hours later Chloe would jolt awake and be gasping trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving in and out. Jerking her head to the right she saw her worse nightmare was real, it wasn’t a dream. She felt his icy cold hands holding down her wrists, towered over her. She could smell flesh, not rotting but not incredibly pleasant. Her eye’s scanned what was visible, stitched up and bloody scars on his neck and arms. He was in a simple tee and jeans.

“Oh god…” She breathed and slowly laid back down looking up at the ceiling. “How…how are you here? How are you alive?” She said adverting her eye’s fearfully back at him.
 
It was of definitely concern to see Chloe collapse like that and more than a minor annoyance when their mother came up to him. He was worried that she was going to jump him even while he held Chloe but much to his relief she did not and after a little bit she slunk back to the couch to pass out on. Again.

He stayed with Chloe, watching over her pretty form as she slept, though perhaps he had been a bit too close and not person in their right mind would have found his gaze and closeness to be rather unnerving. But he didn't think of that, right now he was just far too concerned about Chloe. And as he watched her sleep, his beautiful little sister, many thoughts began to float through his broken mind. Thoughts that he felt horrible for having. The things his mother had done to him, all of those naughty yet pleasurable things... He wanted Chloe to do them to him. Those and so much more. He always had, even before his death, but he never told her, he knew that he never could, he wanted Chloe to have the normal life that he couldn't. Families didn't bed each other, he knew that, and despite his dark desire to do such a thing with Chloe, anyway, he wanted to keep it from her, to keep far away from such things. Maybe that was why he never fought against their mother too much, they were both filthy people, and at least he could get some of his lust out that way...

The scent of him was no doubt strong. The scent was not of rotting flesh, not yet anyway, but he could probably stand a shower, he hadn't had one since the day he was killed. But his stench was the farthest thing from his mind right now, especially when she woke up, startling him a little bit.

"No... scared..." he told her softly as his vocal chords did their best to form coherent words. There was undeniable concern in his eyes even when she turned away from him. "Was... save'... brough'... back..." Well, he hadn't really been saved, not entirely, but it was probably the easiest way to explain the situation, especially when he couldn't talk very well. "Come back... you... Love... you..."

He was trying to tell her that he had come back here to make sure that she was alright and that their mother wasn't doing anything to her, that Chloe was safe, but he wasn't so sure that his message was coming across very well.
 
Chloe stared up at Vincent and stayed silent listening to him struggle to speak. His words were mixed up but she had made out that he had been saved and he came for her, that he loved her? Why did that mean so much than it had before? Was it because he was some sort of re-animated corpse? Pushing up carefully on her elbows she coughed and wiped her mouth of drool. She let her eye’s trail up his bare arms up his shirt to his neck. Pulling up she curved her knee’s leaning on both hands and was observing his poorly stitched together limbs and went wide eyed and had to balance so she didn’t fall at the sight.

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“Fucking Christ…” she breathed and let her eye’s go back to his. “What fucking happening to you.” She barely whispered as her eyes were swelling with tears.

“Are you?” She softly asked holding out her hand hesitantly; she was scared to touch him. His sorrowful but desirable gaze let her feel over the thin material to his shirt on his chest. It was cold and hard, no heart beat. She let her hand go to places where pulses would be but felt nothing as her throat got dryer.

“Fuck…” she mumbled, it wasn’t like her to cuss so much but you could tell how stressed and confused she was. Her hands dropped from his body as she gazed at him.
 
He could tell that Chloe was surprised not only be his presence but also that he wasn't dead. Or wasn't dead any longer. That was understandable, he supposed that he would be quite surprised if he were in her situation. Heck, he was still quite surprised with it all himself. He wasn't even entirely sure how to explain it, he didn't really understand much of what had happened, and even now he still felt rather confused about a great many things. But he was here now, back from the dead, and he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

"...Accident," he replied flatly at her question as to what happened to him, and he made a gesture with a fist and an open hand, plowing the fist into his open hand to mimic the bus hitting him. Though she probably already knew all of that, anyway, he wagered.

"Was found... witches... brought back..." he added, his voice hoarse and raspy thanks to that slash across this throat. "...You okay? Mom... hurt you...?"

He was trying to explain that his corpse had been found and stolen by a group of witches for reasons he did not know, and that they had somehow brought him back from the dead, though perhaps a bit sloppily. And then he had asked if their mother had hurt her in any way, or tried to, or even tried to get Chloe into bed with her like she had done to him so many times before. He wasn't sure if Chloe ever knew what their mother had made him do and he wasn't too keen on telling her, either. Not yet, anyway, maybe one day.
 
Chloe shook her head viciously at him asking if their mother had hurt her? Where did that question come from? Their mother had never really hurt her, she had neglected her and was a lazy alcoholic and drug addict but really she hadn’t even done anything. Chloe sat back up and knew what he was asking. She knew secretly that her mother had sexually abused Vincent. For nights she would purposely listen to her iPod blasting music just in case sounds could be heard. It wasn’t the biggest house. Her face changed as her already pale skin seemed to go white.

“No…she hasn’t.” She said looked even more drained than she had before. The thoughts of her brother and mother making love weren’t exactly thrilling. He was back? Well he kind of was, so did that mean he was safe?

“Let’s get you cleaned up? Do you eat?” She asked and bravely scooted off the bed past him. “If you can shower. I can get you some clean clothes…I might be able to clean up your…wounds.” She said referring to the places he was stitched together and slowly healing. Chloe got up and started absent mindedly picking up things and looked back to him.

“You go shower. I will pick up in here and bring you some clothes.” She said trying to act as if everything was normal but it wasn’t. She was communicating with her dead brother.
 
Vincent nodded his head at Chloe's response. He was relieved to hear that their mother hadn't done anything to her. While their mother had never shown interest in bedding another female, or at least not that he was aware, he certainly wouldn't put it past her especially when her toy was no longer around to be used for her pleasure.

Again he nodded his head, this time at her question. He could eat, yes, but he didn't have to. The magic sustained him, or at least it did for the time being, so he didn't need to eat to survive. He also wasn't sure how many of his organs were working. Would he be able to digest the food? It wasn't something he had ever thought to ask. Did zombies eat food? For that matter, was he a zombie? He really wasn't sure what he was, honestly...

A shower did sound quite nice, though. He hadn't showered since the accident-- the dead didn't need to bathe, after all-- so getting cleaned up wouldn't be a bad idea. Would his stitches survive the water? He didn't particularly like the idea of having his arm stitched back again, but as clumsy as those ugly stitches appeared they did look strong enough to withstand some water. Hopefully.

He said nothing more a he left the room and made his way to the bathroom. While he couldn't remember a whole lot he did remember the way, probably because he had lived here for so many years. His movements were a little slow and a little bit jerky, his body wasn't functioning quite right yet, but that was probably to be expected. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Soon enough he had the water running to a comfortable temperature and the shower was going. He stripped himself out of his clothes and he took in a deep breath when he turned toward the mirror and for the first time he got a real good look at himself. He couldn't help but wince at the sight. He was a mess. Stitches covered most of his joints, wounds and gashes all over his body, bruising, spots of skin that didn't match in color from where the witches had to get creative with "donor" parts. He was an utter wreck. Would those wounds ever heal? Would those stitches ever come out? He did not know.

He shook his head at his reflection and turned back toward the shower and cautiously stepped him, slowly and easily as if he expected to fall to pieces right then and there.
 
While Vincent was in the shower.....

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Chloe was overwhelmed with emotions but somehow was able to push them down so she could focus on the moment. Vincent was back and he was alive but something was definitely wrong. She started picking up his room and did everything from dusting to picking up things and putting them back where they belonged. She grabbed the vacuum and did a quick sweep and made his bed. She would need to do laundry soon and wash his bed sheets and clothes, they were clean but so they smelled fresher. She was organizing his closet and sorting his clothes so she could start a load when the door opened, she turned around and her brother was there.

Bare as ever exposing everything as water dripped off of him. She lost her breath and went wide-eyed in fear at the sight. Not because she was seeing her brother naked for the first time but because of how fucked up he looked, it was straight out of some cult horror movie. The poor girl could help the stare and gawk and watch the water trail down his body.


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“Let me get you some clean towels.” She stuttered and ran out of the room, he had left the door open. She quickly grabbed a few towels and hesitantly went back into his room and unfolded the towels. She started drying him off, she was careful not to apply too much pressure. He smelled better, like soap and shampoo. After drying him she grabbed him some clean clothing, some briefs, sweats and a t-shirt. By this point she knew he needed help as he didn’t say much and just stood there.

She carefully helped him into his briefs, she tried to not look at his private parts or how he oddly hard. She figured it was normal or because he was cold or some other thing, she didn’t know it was because of her.

“Let me grab the first aid kit…. I can try to patch up your…. whatever the hell it is.” She said and returned, she got calmer as she cleaned his stitches thoroughly, very well. Then she applied ointment and wrapped each incision with bandages and tape. An hour later she had a pile of trash and gauze covered in blood. She helped him put on his t-shirt and sweats and socks. She had thrown away the trash.

“Why don’t you rest and I can make you some hot soup?” She said and went to leave but so suddenly his hand snapped out grabbing her, it was so forceful she cried out and trembled. She felt him yank her to the bed; she breathed out but saw his face was soft. She made out he wanted her to stay with him. He would tell she was exhausted herself. She nodded even though her heart was racing.


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She climbed over the side of him in his full bed, it was pretty hot in New Orleans but they had the a/c on and he was cold, so she pulled over extra covers. She laid beside him feeling so nervous and somehow she was laying on his chest with one leg over his own underneath the pile of covers. His body was cool against her hot skin. She didn’t know if he pulled her like that but in minutes he would feel her heart calm down and she was passed out in his arms.
 
The shower definitely helped him and he was feeling better after it. He smelled better too, he knew, and it was nice to get all of that dirt and muck off of his body. It was too bad that he couldn't have wished away all of those scars and wounds, he thought to himself.

Soon enough he was being dried off by his sister, a wanton fantasy for many guys most likely, and it certainly seemed to be one for him, too, judging by his enlarged erection. At least that part of him was still working right, he mused. It felt a little awkward being dried off by her but it was also exciting and that made him feel a little pathetic. After all their mother had done to him, here he was lusting after his sister...

Even after he was dressed the clothing did little to hide his excitement, now the pants had bulged out, tented by his erection. It was a sight that their mother would probably be quite thrilled to see but he doubted that his sister was so pleased with it. Not that he could blame her, and he wasn't too pleased with it himself... It seemed he just couldn't get over that darkness within him.

When he had pulled her back into the bed with him his body had acted on its own, it seemed, he didn't even know what he was doing, but soon enough he found her in bed with him. He knew that it probably wasn't a good idea but... but he didn't want to be alone ago. He had been alone for so long and now that he was back with her he didn't want her to leave him. Not ever. Maybe he was being selfish.

Chloe's warm body felt good on his, she was soft and warm, and she smelled so good. The position of her head on his chest and her leg draped between his didn't help his excitement one bit but it did feel nice, and when he noticed that she had fallen asleep he simply let one arm drape around her waist. He let his eyes close as well and he nuzzled into the bed and with the comfort of his sister he soon drifted off into a peaceful slumber, one that was much more peaceful than any he had had since before he had died...
 
Chloe and Vincent slept soundly until the door was thrown open and there mother immediately ran to the bed. Without much warning she threw the covers off the both of them and Chloe was pulled from her sleep, they were no longer safe from the outside world. She was groggy but knew it was her mother. Their mother had draped herself over their younger son, completely ignoring the fact her daughter was even in the same bed.

“Oh my god…. it wasn’t a dream. My baby boy, you’ve come back to me!” She covered him in sloppy kisses. Chloe had tried to get up but Vincent’s arm, the one that was wrapped around her waist wouldn’t bulge, as if he didn’t want her to leave him, especially not with the woman who had abused him, turned into a dark monster inside. Chloe felt very awkward.

I think I’ll go make breakfast for everybody.” Chloe randomly said and her mother finally acknowledges her.

“Oh baby I didn’t know you were here…. did you help clean your big bubby.” Chloe watched how her mother trailed her fingers over the bandages; his whole body was covered in them, his visible arms and covered chest and legs. Chloe just nodded and looked at Vincent. She pried his fingers off and looked so pathetic looking at him as if saying she had to go. She didn’t want to be around when her mother was always near him; deep down she knew what had gone on.

“I’ll go cook!” She said and climbed over Vincent.

“You go do that baby…I’m gonna spend some time with Vinny.” She said and closed the door behind her daughter. Chloe just stared at the door and looked so confused. Was all this really happening? Was her brother back? Was their druggie mother already taking advantage of him. Chloe felt strong emotions but shook them off and stormed into the kitchen to start cooking.
 
The slumber was quite comfortable and it did Vincent some good, there was no doubt about it. He never really got rest like this, not since he had died, and though perhaps he didn't entirely need it thanks to the magic that kept him "alive", it still felt good, and it helped his body to relax, it even slightly aided in his body's healing, albeit not entirely noticeably, not yet, anyway. It seemed that even in his current state, and whether he needed to sleep or not, it was a benefit for him to do so.

Unfortunately that sleep was soon interrupted by the entrance of their mother. When she draped herself over the two of them his body, which had been conditioned to her after all those years, reacted and part of him was relieved that she would, no doubt, relieve that lusty heat that was welling up within him, but another part of him felt disgusted by thought thought and with himself for even feeling that way. He was confused, so confused, in both mind and body. Part of him wanted to get up and run away-- and even grab Chloe's hand and bring her with him, though he knew not where they would go-- but another part of him wanted to say and receive the pleasure that it longed for. God, what was wrong with him?

When Chloe finally slipped from his grasp he couldn't help but feel a little hurt, though he understood why she left and he didn't blame her for it; he probably would have done the same had he been in her place. His eyes were beginning her not to leave him alone even as she vacated the room, and when she had left he knew that he was all on his own now. Again. Would he try to flee or would he stay? He didn't know what to do, his mind and body were telling him two very different things...

"What... what do you... want...?" Vincent finally asked, lonely eyes looking down towards their mother. His words were a little smoother now and a little easier spoken, they weren't quite so hoarse. The warm shower water had loosened his vocal chords a bit, allowing him to speak just a bit easier.
 
Chloe stood in the kitchen glairing at the stove and finally slumped into a chair. She looked back down the hallway with swelled tears in her eyes. All her life she had to kind of just deal with what her mother did. It was that or be put into the foster care until she was old enough to take care of herself and even though she worked long hours, she couldn’t save money as she helped pay for this place, so it was her home. She did have a small savings saved back from when Vincent was alive because he worked instead, he didn’t want Chloe to do so while in school. That changed when he died….or supposedly had.

Chloe started frying bacon and sausage, put biscuits in the oven and was scrambling eggs in another pan. The young female was pretty good at cooking, as she was the only one that really did it besides when Vincent was alive. She was cutting up fresh fruit and making toast. She sat the small kitchen table waiting, hoping they came out or it least her mother did…

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“What do I want? I want to do know what happened….how are you alive? I almost….killed myself because of you.” She said hugging his frigid body. Apparently she had nothing to live for but their son….not that she didn’t have a beautiful smart daughter to be proud of or anything. She lived for her son and always had. Her hands trailed down his arms and chest. “What happen to you my beautiful beautiful son….” She said in a husky whisper. It didn’t take long for him to react. Vincent had been conditioned to him for years.

“Did you miss me, didn’t you, is that why you came back? Because only I can pleasure you?” She said as her hand trailed down slipping in his pants underneath his briefs.

[[ Your more than welcome to help me write these parts lol I'm much more interested in writing Chloe with him :/ lol]]

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Back in the kitchen Chloe would be sitting at the table and have an empty plate of food while now she was just nibbling out of boredom and frustration. It had been over half an hour and they still hadn’t returned which meant they more than likely wasn’t, so Chloe turned into a zombie sitting there. Chloe got containers and put up the food still leaving it out neatly. She went to her own room shutting the door.

She picked up her room a little bit and grabbed some clean clothes; she hadn’t showered since the day before yesterday. She headed back down the hall and thought she could hear her mother and slammed the bathroom door. She sat on the toilet and pulled off her shirt being in just leggings and a black bra. She stared at the fresh scars on her arms, the pain she had given herself in an escape…. somehow even though he was back alive, she wanted to hurt herself. Had anything changed? Was she still in a nightmare?


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Wasn't it obvious what had happened to him, he thought to himself? He had died. He had been hit by a bus, splattered against the front of it, and died. There was little more to it than that. Though he supposed that his mother meant how he got from that state to this one, but even he couldn't answer that.

He scowled a little when she mentioned that she had nearly killed herself. He knew that she wasn't a very emotionally strong woman but to hear that she was so willing to leave Chloe alone didn't sit well with him. "Don't be... so selfish..." he said, and though his voice was soft and raspy the frustration was clear. "Chloe... here. She needs help..."

When he felt her hand creeping down his pants he took a quick inhale and his body trembled just a little, and when her hand brushed against his stiffened manhood his body simply trembled again. He didn't want to answer her next question, he didn't want to answer any of them, and he felt that if he did he would become an even more terrible person. Chloe didn't deserve to have a brother like him, she deserved someone so much better...

It wasn't long before his mother found his stiff erection and pulled it out from his pants, and he felt his mother's fingers wrapping around the swollen shaft and begin to stroke him, and his body jerked a little bit at the undeniably pleasurable attention. A faint moan escaped him as soon as he felt his mother's warm tongue gliding against the bulbous head of his manhood. He hated himself for moaning like that, he hated how erotic and pleasurable it sounded... But there was no denying that the attention did feel good. He wanted to run away, he wanted to get away and stop this, but his body lacked the power. Vincent had become so conditioned to his mother that his body would do nothing to stop her. No, that wasn't true, he simply didn't want to stop her, he lacked the will power or desire...

But he wanted to stop this. He had to stop this. He didn't want to do this, not now, not ever, not with her, but his body wasn't cooperating, and as soon as his mother's warm lips were wrapped around the tip of him his early fluids began to drool from the tip and onto her tongue. He moaned again, head falling back, even as she took more of him into her mouth and began to suck on him, to bob her head up and down on him. Now it really was hopeless, there was no way he could fight against her now, not with the pleasure she was giving him and as much as he hated to admit it he did miss this attention... He just wished that he could have found such pleasure with someone else...

He let her suck on him for some time, his mother seemed to enjoying having him in her mouth again, and the blowjob definitely felt good. She sucked him for a good half hour-- he always could last quite a while thanks to all of the practice-- and all the while pressure was slowly building up within him, his muscles were tightening, and he knew that his climax was quickly approaching. His mother "mmm'd" as she sucked on him, a sign that she knew that he was nearing his peak. It wouldn't be long now, he was so close... Moments later it felt as though he was ready to burst at that his hot cream was pushing against the inside of him, threatening to spill out at any moment. And indeed he was about to burst when he grabbed the woman by the shoulders and, in a miraculous return of his senses, he pushed her back, pulling her from him penis, though it was left stiff and shimmering in saliva.

"No..." was all he managed to say. She wasn't the person he wanted to do this with, he couldn't do this with her, he shouldn't do it with her... He rose from the bed and, because she could stop him, he got himself out of the room as quickly as his broken body would let him. After tucking himself away and pulling his pants back up, of course.

He wanted to leave that house and never return before he did something he knew that he would regret but he couldn't leave, not yet, not without Chloe. He couldn't leave her in the hands of their mother, who knew what might happen? And while he wasn't sure that he would be able to take any better care of her he wanted to try.

But... where was Chloe? And how would he be able to convince her to leave with him?
 
The blood was fresh and bright red as it seeped from her fresh cuts. The shower was running, showering her fragile slim body with hot steaming water. Before letting her inner demons take control she had managed to shampoo and condition her hair and scrubbed her body down, especially her arms before taking a razor and making two sharp careful incisions. The blood would freely flow down her arms onto the floor of the shower swirling down the drain. It was the only way to distract her mind from the pain.


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The pain of feeling like a failure, the pain of not being able to protect her brother, a failure for not being able to save his precious life, not even in the afterlife, for being the daughter of a drug addict, for her own father walking out ages ago. She sunk to her knees on the bathtub trying not to cry out while curling into a ball. She didn’t even want to think of what was going on in her brother’s room and sucked in a breath.

That until the bathroom door opened, she looked up being sheltered by the shower curtain. Somehow she knew it was Vincent, but why? What was wrong? She was on her knees on the shower floor covered in fresh blood.

“Vin-Vincent? Is that you….” She stammered, her voice strained by pain.

The shower curtain as ripped open for Vincent to be standing there, he looked incredibly dangerous but something in his eyes was alive. Chloe was bare on the bathroom floor exposed, her body, her cuts, and her pain, everything in front of him. Her face was the worst, the most heartbreaking.


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“Oh god…shit” she cried sheltering herself as the water rushed down her body, still draining the blood from her arms down the drain.

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Perhaps it wasn't the most rational course of action to be going into the bathroom and pulling back the shower curtain when his sister was there in the shower already, but he wasn't thinking entirely rationally. Rationality had been long tossed out the window years ago thanks for their mother, and though he usually tried to remain rational, more often than not he failed miserably.

Whatever the case, he stood there for a moment-- surprised at himself, really, for even doing that-- and gazed down at the naked body of his younger sister. Seeing her there curled up and crying made his heart sink, as it would for any brother who cared about their sister, but his next course of action probably wasn't something most brothers would do. Without even really thinking about it, Vincent found himself kneeling in front of her even as the water ran over him and soaked his clothes and made them cling to his skin, his hands took hold of hers, and he leaned in... and he kissed her. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and it was as though his body was moving on its own, and though he had always wanted to keep his sister out of things like that, right now he couldn't seem to help it, not when he saw her as she was. It was the only thing he could think of to do to tell her that he loved her, that he was there for her even in death...

The kiss deepened but after a few moments he pulled away. His fingertips trailed up her wrists, running lightly over the bleeding cuts, and his fingers then wrapped around her wrists and squeezed them tightly until the bleeding stopped. "Never again," he told her somewhat harshly, and it was a simple statement that she should never cut herself again. And with that he pressed in toward her and kissed her lips again, deeper than before.
 
Chloe pitiful in a pile on the shower floor was awestruck when Vincent had invasively come in pulling the shower curtain. Her words were sheltered as he stepped into the tub and bent down. It was beautiful in its own way to see the hot water running down over Vincent, his nappy blonde hair tousled, wild and wet.

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The water trailed down his face and soaked his body but his lips; his Hungary lips found his sisters. His arms were to stiff so there wasn’t much Chloe could do to deny him but she had no will to reason with what was moral or not. She had secretly and wrongfully buried any romantic feelings about him long ago, being tormented every time her mother abused him, fractured his soul, she would have never wanted to do that, to hurt him…only he wanted her too. They had somehow fell in love with each other growing up without knowing it, both having to suffer because of their mother fucking with him constantly. Maybe in some sick way she opened the doors for this to even happen.

Chloe breathed out with her forehead pressed against his, in shock of what had just happened and felt his fingers clamp around her cuts. It hurt because of how forceful he was but the bleeding stopped and she nodded submissively to him and before she could apologize or speak her took her tongue and she let him. Being naked she was more exposed but right now it was more about passion than lust, to just be able to kiss and hold the other. Chloe let her hands wrap around his soaked shirt, letting her hands comb through his wet tangled hair as they shared each other’s mouths. She found herself pushing her body into his until she was on top of him on the bathtub floor as the showerhead let warm water cascade over the both of them like a halo.


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All of that was put to a stop when their mother busted through the bathroom door to see the sight of her naked daughter on top of Vincent. She shrieked uncontrollable as Chloe looked up in fear, she came running toward the two and grabbed Chloe yanking her off of her son and throwing her against the hard hardwood flooring making her cry out.

“You little filthy slut…. so this is why you won’t let mother please you…. because of her! How long has this been going on! Your mine! Your fucking mine!” She screamed hysterically. Chloe was on the floor drenched and now bleeding again from being thrown. Chloe didn’t know what to say, she was traumatized by everything and was breaking.


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Right or wrong Vincent didn't care, this felt good, it felt too good, and he found himself unable to stop. His tongue danced with hers, wrestled with hers, and their moist muscles flitted between each other's mouth, and he couldn't help but release a soft but clearly lustful groan into the remarkably passionate kiss. Chloe had been the only person he truly wanted and though he had hid such emotions away for as long as he could remember they had always been there at the back of his mind, lingering, simmering, lusting... And now he couldn't stop them from coming out.

He found himself on his back soon enough with Chloe on top of him, and he gazed up at her, a grin plastered onto his lips. He rather enjoyed this position, he liked being under her like this, and he liked seeing her lovely naked body above him. He was just above to lean up and take her right nipple into his mouth when he heard the door slam open-- why hadn't he locked it?-- and he was not surprised to see their mother standing there. The woman pulled Chloe off of him and he growled as he shot up onto his feet. He wasn't the type to hurt their mother no matter how much she deserved it but he wasn't going to let her hurt Chloe, either.

"You... not touch her!" he growled again and pushed their mother away, not hard, but enough to force some distance between them. He glared at her as he made his way to Chloe's side. "I don't... b-belong to you! I never... belonged to you!" He continued with a hiss. His words were, again, a bit easier to understand now that the warm shower water had worked his vocal chords once again and loosened them.

He barely glanced down to Chloe before he reached down to grasp her hand, and he pulled her up off of her feet and into his arms in one smooth motion. "...Come with me," he told her, not so much a question now. Staring down their clearly angry mother, he backed out of the bathroom with a look that clearly read he would defend himself and Chloe if needed, and once he was clear of the bathroom, and carrying his sister in his arms, he made his way down the hallway as quickly as he could, which wasn't really all that quick thanks to his sluggish body.

"I don't belong to her..." he mumbled as though he were talking to himself. He briefly glanced down to her as he made his way down the stairs and down another hallway. "I belong to you. I've... always belonged to you."

He could hear their mother stomping after them and he quickened his pace as much as he could. Out through the kitchen, out the back door and into the garage, he was relieved to find his old car still there and that it hadn't yet been sold. He retrieved the keys from the key holder on the nearby wall and balanced Chloe enough to use one hand to unlock the door and pull it open, and he hastily lowered his sister into the passenger seat even as he heard footsteps drawing ever closer. He all but ripped off his shirt in his mad dash to get out as quickly as possible, and he draped it over Chloe's naked torso to cover her, and then hurried around to the driver's side, pulled open the door and climbed in. The garage door behind them was slowly rumbling open and he was getting rather antsy and impatient with it, drumming his fingers along the dashboard in an old habit of showing his impatience. He had barely gotten the car started and began to back out when their mother dashed out in front of them, and illuminated in the glow of headlights he swore she almost looked like some sort of demon. She was yelling at them and waving fists in the air as he pulled the car out, cranked the steering wheel, and smoothly drove them away from the house.
 
Chloe was freezing until they had gotten outside into the humid hot air; it was it least eighty degrees and always was in New Orleans. They had gotten into Vincent’s old car, which was an older mustang. Their mother was going to sell it but not before she couldn’t get over him and right now she was raging. Chloe was wondering if Vincent could even drive in his state but he sped off down the street and silence followed. Chloe breathed out and kept looking backwards, it felt weird to be in this car, it felt weird to be naked in his wet shirt, everything was totally just fucked.

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They drove and Chloe remembered his words back at the house, he had said he belonged to her and never had to his mother. Did that mean he had loved her, wanted her romantically even when he was alive? All those times he had to suffer her sexual abuse, was it possible? She then remembered he said he came back for her, and he had said that last night. He had only been back one night and they were on the run.

“Where are we going to go? We have to go back there eventually…. that’s our home.” She pleaded but Vincent shook his head and said “Nooo” a little more aggressively than he may have meant. “We need clothes, and food and shelter…. I have a job but I haven’t saved a lot, my stuff is back there.” She said and Vincent was quiet. Chloe was starting to panic but leaned back. Her clothes were damp but not soaked because of how hot it was, she rolled down the window to let in more hot air.


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Chloe was able to understand that Vincent said he had money. That was one thing he would remember, he had worked two jobs while going to college to help pay for the house bills and save back. His mother always gave him large amounts every time she got a government check, it was his only stipulation. He would just have to go to the bank and put Zoey on the account, he could give it to her. Right now he only knew one place to go and that was to the witches that brought him back. He drove all the way down town and pulled across the street from a huge victoria house, Miss Robichaux's Academy that was a boarding school. It was the last Salem descendants who were a coven and most the girls were young.

“Why are we here?” Chloe asked and he tried to explain they were who brought him back. Chloe awkwardly followed Vincent toward the boarding house, they slipped through the gates and Vincent took them along the side through the garden and opened a back door. Immediately they saw a large white woman in a maid’s outfit cleaning in the kitchen, she saw Vincent shirtless and the young woman and made a strange face.

“I knew you would be back…. that didn’t take long. Them damn foolish girls shouldn’t be bringing back the dead, messin with things that don’t need tampering with.” She bitched while doing the dishes. She had her own crazy story, but she had also been brought back to life and was now a slave for all the sins she had done in a past life.

They headed into the main living room and were greeted with a familiar face; it was one of the witches who had brought him back. She was kind of the reason he was alive, as he had met the boy at a party and while she had kind of liked him, she was devastated when he got killed because of her friend. That was also a long night to tell.

“Vincent…your back, what happened? Is that your sister?” Somehow the girl smiled, she knew Vincent had gone back because of her but didn’t really know he loved her but that was beside the point.
 
During the drive Vincent had mulled over the idea of staying on a motel for a few days until things settled down, but one thing was for sure, he couldn't take Chloe back to their old "home". That wasn't "home" anymore, not for him, and he hoped not for her, either. He wanted to tell her that they should create a home together-- and even have a family together, just the two of them, start all over again-- but he held off on that suggestion. He wasn't even sure if he could get her pregnant now. He had been potent before, he had even gotten their mother pregnant once before she secretly did away with it less than a week later, but after he had died and had been brought back he wasn't sure if he still remained potent or not. Could a dead person still create life?

That was besides the point right now. He had to figure out some place to go, and as tempting as a motel was he found himself heading back to the house where the witches lived as if he was being drawn back to it by some unseen force. That wasn't home for him, either, but it was shelter if nothing else...

Soon enough they were inside the house and had encountered the maid (whose name he still wasn't entirely sure of) and then one of the witches. He was not aware of her feelings for him, he simply believed that she was only being friendly to him, but he always had been a little slow to realize someone's affection, he always had been a little dense on such subjects. Perhaps that was another side effect of his mother's torment.

Vincent nodded silently at the girl's question before asking a question of his own: "Could we... stay here... for a little while?"
 
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