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Captivation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 6307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Bill or Tom Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel and this story is a complete work of fiction; it is all made up and not true. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N: Thank you to my dear readers! Especially Luna. Hope you like! *hugs*
Chapter 5. Revelation.
I ring through to their room the next day. Looking at my surveillance system, I see that Tom’s awake already. In fact, he never even slept. He’s sitting up in the bed, leaning back against the headboard, Bill snuggled against him. With his arm protectively around his little brother, Tom stares hatefully at the ringing phone. Knowing full well who’s going to be on the other end, he doesn’t answer it.
“Pick it up, Tom,” Bill sleepily mutters, his head on Tom’s chest.
“No. I don’t wanna talk to him.”
“He’ll keep calling until we answer.”
“I’ll just smash the phone and rip the plug out of the wall.”
“If you do that, he’ll handcuff you to the bed,” Bill warns his stubborn brother, lifting his head, his black hair all sleep-rumpled. “He doesn’t like you wrecking his stuff.”
“Yeah?” Tom doesn’t sound very impressed. “Well, I don’t like him kidnapping us either so he can suck on my balls.”
“Don’t you dare say that to him!” The younger twin sits up in alarm. “He’ll hurt you, Tom. You’ve seen how strong and fast he is. He’s like a ninja!”
“Ninjas aren’t real, Bill. And even if they are, he’s not one of them,” Tom scoffs. “Real ninjas would be out stealing diamonds and doing cool shit like that, instead of creeping around basements, molesting other guys.”
“He hasn’t molested me,” Bill argues, getting annoyed by the insistent ringing that Tom refuses to answer. “Oh for God’s sakes, I’ll just fucking get it, then!”
He leans over Tom and snatches up the phone. “What now?”
“Good morning to you too, Bill,” I dryly reply. “I thought we made some kind of deal about showing each other respect.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles in a meeker tone, belatedly realising how bitchy he just was. “I’m not really in the best mood when I wake up.”
“I understand. But I will be ringing you every morning and I expect you to remain civil and polite when you speak to me. Okay?”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“Now, I’m going to open your door in ten minutes and I would like you guys to go down the corridor and turn left. That’s the conference room. You’ve already been there. I’ll be waiting with coffee. I know you don’t feel like seeing me right now but we have lots to talk about, including why you are here. If you want to discover the reason, you’ll both meet me.”
“Okay,” he says again, hanging up when I cut the connection.
Tom is looking at Bill with narrowed eyes. “What’d he want?”
“We have to go meet him in the conference room.” Bill yawns. “It’s down the hall.”
“Why?”
“He says we have to talk. He’s gonna open the door soon so we should get ready.” Realising that his hair looks like a bramble bush, Bill attempts to flatten it with his hands and then peers down at the frumpy tracksuit pants I gave him, making an unhappy face. “I wish I had my clothes.”
“He’s gonna open the door?”
“Yeah. In ten minutes.”
Seeing this as another prime escape opportunity, Tom doesn’t object, just gets off the bed, hitching up his saggy jeans. He’s still fully dressed. He’s even got his sneakers on from the night before. With only socks on his feet, Bill steps onto the floor, stands up and stretches his lithe body, various joints popping and cracking. The T-shirt he’s wearing pulls up over his belly, revealing his lean hips and the star tattoo below one of them. The other hip sports a very large, very black bruise.
“What is that from?” Tom demands, gesturing to the mottled stain on his brother’s pale flesh.
Bill looks downwards, not having noticed it before. “Oh. It’s so dark!”
Holding his shirt up, he pulls the elastic waist of his sweatpants down at the side and pokes at the jutting bone of his hip, wincing at how tender the bruising is.
“How’d you get that?” Tom starts to sound very angry, thick eyebrows pulling together. “Did HE do it to you? You said he didn’t hurt you!”
“No, actually, that’s my fault,” Bill admits with a grimace. “I was tied to a chair in the conference room and I freaked out. I was trying to get out of it but ended up crashing over sideways. I hit my head too. Not badly, though.” He gazes up at the ceiling, fingers intently searching through his tousled hair for a small tell-tale bump.
“Wait a minute – he tied you to a chair?” Tom exclaims.
“Well, I don’t remember that part. I was just in it when I woke up. I don’t remember anything about the abduction except for his hand coming over my mouth. I tried to scream but instead I breathed in this nasty chemical stuff. It must have been chloroform.” Bill extends his skinny arm and peers down at a much smaller bruise, right in the inside crease of his elbow. “I think he injected me with something too. The next thing I recall is waking up in the chair, feeling like a zombie and not being able to move my legs.”
“He drugged you AND tied you up?” Clapping his hands over his dreadlocked head, Tom whirls in a disbelieving circle of fury, loose T-shirt flaring around his torso. “Fuck! This is getting worse and worse!”
“He undid the ropes,” Bill offers, sounding as though he’s halfway defending me. “He cut them off and then gave me some water. And a cigarette. He was kind of nice.”
“Nice?” Tom stares at his brother in incredulity. “Bill, this fucker kidnapped you, shot you full of drugs and roped you to a chair! He could have done anything to you while you were passed out!”
“I don’t think he did,” Bill counters, knowing what Tom is referring to. “I’d be sore otherwise. Besides, he said he wasn’t interested in me for that. He said he wanted to help me. To help us both.”
“What for?” Tom throws out his hands in confounded exasperation. “What’s he mean by that? What the fuck is going on here?”
Bill shrugs, already looking for a hairbrush. “Let’s get ready and go find out.”
When I open the door to their chamber using my remote controller, Bill turns left as I instructed but Tom has to detour disobediently and try all the other doors along the hallway, just in case I was forgetful enough to leave one of them unlocked.
I wasn’t.
With nowhere else to go, they both appear in the doorway of the conference room, warily sticking their heads inside first and then reluctantly entering when I wave them in. I’m already seated at the table, a jug of steaming coffee and three mugs placed in the centre.
“Hello, boys. Please take a seat.”
Tom chooses the left chair directly opposite me; Bill takes the right, both of them sitting down, glancing at each other and then at me. They look tired. Bill might have gotten some rest, relieved to have his bigger brother there holding him safely and securely, but Tom didn’t sleep. Not a wink. He stayed awake all night on guard, protecting Bill and listening out for me, ready to spring to his sibling’s defence should I turn up to molest him. Which I never did. I ended up going to bed myself, setting the camera to night vision mode so I could check the footage in the morning and see if anything important happened while I was sleeping. It didn’t. Bill just slept and Tom kept watch. Since I didn’t show up Tom stayed awake for nothing and now he’s exhausted, pissed off and in dire need of a cigarette which is going to make for an interesting day.
I have a large envelope sitting on the table beside my elbow. I notice Bill peeking at it, curious to know what’s inside but he refrains from asking. He probably figures I’ll show them when I’m ready.
“Coffee?” I pick up the stainless steel jug.
“Yes, please,” Bill automatically answers but Tom glares at him, killing that idea. “Um, never mind.”
“Tom, you don’t want coffee?”
He ignores me completely, not even deigning to reply. If I gave him one, he’d most likely only throw it back in my face.
“Fine, I’ll drink it then.” I shrug, pouring myself a cup. After mixing in a dash of milk and one teaspoon of white sugar, I take a swallow, proving that it’s not poisoned. Smelling the hot brew I’m drinking, I can sense that Bill regrets his decision but he can see where the jug is. If he wants one he can pour it himself.
“Okay, here’s how this is gonna work,” I announce when I put my mug down. “I ask questions. You answer them. I tell you to do something, you do it. Otherwise nobody leaves their chair. Nobody gets a smoke, nobody can have a drink of water and nobody can go to the bathroom. You answer my questions - truthfully - and do what you’re told, then I’ll let you go back to your room and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day. It’s that simple. If I think you’ve been particularly good, you’ll get rewards. I won’t lie to you and I expect you to offer me the same courtesy. That is all.”
I look at both of the teenagers in front of me. “Do you accept my terms?”
“I suppose we could-” Bill starts to reply but he’s cut off by Tom’s hissed interjection.
“Don’t speak to him, Bill! You’ll only encourage the sick fuck. Just shut up and keep your mouth closed.”
Obeying his brother, Bill stops talking, lips pressing together in a pale line. They both sit there silently, looking at anything else but me. I finish my coffee. Minutes tick by.
“Well, this is going nowhere fast,” I comment sarcastically. “Anyone ready to talk yet?”
They just sit some more, neither of them speaking. I can tell by Bill’s shifting body language that he wants to co-operate but he stays quiet, afraid of angering Tom.
Sighing with exaggerated boredom, I stretch in my chair, clasping my hands above my head and raising my arms. Tom glances at me because I’m moving, wary that I might suddenly attack, but when he sees that I’m only stretching, he turns back away. Bill looks at me for a little longer, his eyes lingering on my torso and the way the top I’m wearing is pulling tight across my chest, displaying the pectoral muscles lying underneath the thin fabric. If he peers closely enough, he can even see the flat outline of my nipples. The thought of Bill Kaulitz checking me out causes a strange tingling thrill to fizz inside my ribs. Wanting to provoke more of a reaction from the boys, I remove a packet of cigarettes from my jacket pocket, slip one out and pop it into my mouth. Lighting the end with a BIC Clic mini-lighter, I lazily smoke in front of them, studying the twins’ responses. Though the aroma of smouldering tobacco must be tempting him terribly, Tom is steadfastly ignoring me, staring at the wall and pretending I don’t even exist. Bill isn’t so rude, the younger musician seeming to study me in return, quietly, thoughtfully, even interestedly.
As I’m smoking he glances at my lips (even bigger and fuller than his are), he studies my slim yet strong hands and my light tan skin, he lets his gaze travel along my athletically-muscled body and back up again, but he keeps looking at my eyes most of all. They seem to fascinate people. I think it’s the combination of the Asian slant and the unique tawny-amber colour of my irises that makes them seem exotic and unusual. They’re almost the colour of honey or treacle. Some people say they’re haunting. With those, my long lustrous hair and high-set cheekbones I suppose I know I’m not ugly but at the same time I really don’t care what anyone thinks of me. Not anymore. Nobody walking around on those streets up there interests or intrigues me and I truly don’t have the patience or the desire to pursue any kind of intimate relationship with any other person.
Unless it’s with my kidnap victims.
The next time Bill’s brown gaze drops to my mouth, I slowly and suggestively lick over my top lip, and then smirk at him when he flushes and guiltily glances away. It doesn’t last for long, though. He soon looks back at me when I butt out my finished cigarette and light another one. I don’t need it, in fact I don’t need to be smoking at all because I’m not addicted to nicotine like these two youths clearly are, but it’s a useful bargaining chip and a surprisingly easy and effective tool of behaviour management, enforcing co-operation without any needless violence. Why go to all the trouble of torturing someone with knives and sharp bamboo splinters when I can simply smoke in front of them? I pretend to be bored and check out my nails but out of the corner of my eye, I see Bill gazing at me longingly, looking at my mouth again and the grey tendrils of smoke curling out of it. I make sure to exhale some of it over his way, so he gets a taste. He’s swinging his foot and nibbling on his thumbnail, getting increasingly jittery as the seconds go by.
Eventually, he pipes up.
“Erm, excuse me,” he says in a timid, polite tone. “May I please have one of those?”
Tom’s head whips around. “Bill!”
“Come on, Tom,” the younger one pleads. “I’m dying for a cigarette here! And I know you are too.”
“Sure. You can have one,” I say, stubbing my half-smoked cig out in the ashtray and then laying the just-opened packet tantalisingly on the table where they can see it, full of little filtered tubes of fresh, fragrant tobacco leaves and deliciously addictive chemicals.
“You can both have one. IF…you answer my questions first,” I stipulate.
“What questions?” Bill asks.
“Personal ones. Think of it as like playing Truth or Dare. Only without the dare.”
“Okay,” Bill agrees, willing to do anything in return for a smoke. “We’ll play along. Won’t we, Tom?”
When Bill’s foot encouragingly kicks him under the table, Tom just grunts.
“Fantastic,” I drone, moved by Tom’s sheer enthusiasm. “How about we start with you, Bill? You seem more keen and open-minded than your brother.”
“Okay,” the smaller twin replies again, sounding warier this time.
“Question one,” I begin in a professional tone, leaning my elbow on the table and propping my chin up with the heel of my palm in a stance of concentration.
“Have you ever kissed another boy before?”
Looking thrown and unprepared by the query, Bill blinks. “Uh…no. I haven’t.”
“Tom? Have you?”
“Of course not,” the older one snaps, sounding offended by the very suggestion. “I’m not gay!”
“I never said you were. I was just asking if you’d ever kissed another member of the same gender before.”
“Yeah, well the answer is no, all right? NO,” Tom emphasises impatiently. “Now gimmie my fucking cigarette. This game sucks.”
I ignore his outstretched hand. “I’m not done yet. Have you ever thought about it? Kissing a man, I mean?”
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” Tom mutters, scratching at his dreads in agitation. “Look, I’m into girls, okay? Women. With tits. And vaginas.”
When being interviewed he’s always talking about sex, boasting about it, as though nothing shames him. Just to see if I can make him squirm, I push, “What exactly do you like about vaginas, Tom?”
“Everything,” is his bold declaration, not shying away from my probing inquiry. “I like how warm and wet and slippery they are. I like the feel, the scent, the taste of them. I like them on my dick, around my fingers, under my mouth.”
I’m glad my crotch is hidden by the edge of the table. Hearing this gutsy teen guitarist speak that way is disturbingly arousing and for a moment I am extremely envious of any girl who has been fortunate enough to have those sexily pierced lips and trash-talking tongue anywhere on her lower body.
Fixing his dark, defiant stare at my face, Tom bluntly finishes, “I eat pussy. Not cock. Is that clear enough, you queer-ass, kidnapping motherfucker?”
I know it’s not meant to but Tom’s distinctly ghetto attitude tickles and amuses me, especially when he says such things in heavily accented German. It’s almost adorable, and would be if he wasn’t glaring at me in such a hateful manner.
“Okay, you’re one hundred percent straight. Sorry I doubted you, playa,” I drawl with a barely-withheld smirk of mockery.
“What about you, Billie-boy?” I swap to the other brother, who appears highly nervous and self-conscious now that the focus is back on him. “Are you one hundred percent straight?”
“Yes, for sure!” he insists a bit too adamantly. “I like vaginas too!”
Dubiously arching my brow at him, I press, “Are you really sure? Because people do wonder. Including me. I know you’ve publicly denied being gay and said that it would be a waste for all the pretty girls who come to your shows, but you never denied anything about perhaps playing for two teams. Nobody’s ever asked you that before. But I will.”
Removing my chin from my hand, I look him square in the eye, challenging him to lie. “Do you like boys as well as girls, Bill? Are you bisexual?”
Blinking perplexedly again, Bill stammers, “I-I…No! How can I be when I’ve never even been with another guy before?”
“Maybe you are and you just don’t know it yet. Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to suck someone else’s dick?”
“I… haven’t really thought about it.” Bill blushes but it’s most likely because he’s uncomfortable with my line of questioning, not because he’s lying.
Somewhat sympathetically, I remark, “You haven’t much experience with sex at all, have you? With anybody. You say you like vaginas but I bet you’ve never even touched one before, let alone been inside of one. Am I correct?”
Blushing harder, Bill just lowers his head, hiding his face with his hair.
“Leave him alone,” Tom mumbles, feeling bad for his humiliated little brother.
That’s all the answer I need to know. Tom has hinted in interviews that Bill is a virgin and Bill has never corrected him. Despite his extroverted rock-star role, I suspect that when it comes to dating and his private life, Bill’s actually very shy. Even though he could have fucked a hundred women by now, he’s probably only ever had one serious girlfriend and even then he probably only stuck to kissing her, perhaps feeling her breasts, but nothing more. He’s far too inexperienced to fully understand what his sexuality is yet. That knowledge only comes with experimenting and he clearly hasn’t done much of that. I must say in this case Tom is more advanced in that area. Tom’s been around. He’s got bedroom skills. But even the older twin could use a little more experimentation too. I don’t think anybody is one hundred percent straight, no matter what they claim.
And I can prove that.
This whole set up – nabbing Bill, luring Tom here and taking him captive as well – it’s all one big experiment to me. Bill and Tom are my test subjects, like a pair of brown-eyed rats in a cage, and it’s up to me to manipulate them, to influence their attitudes and actions, to nudge them in the direction I want them to go in. I am the mad scientist, the lab master, and this is my domain. Outside, in the real world, I can’t change much of anything. I’m just another helpless human, watching people hate and kill each other, watching the planet crumble in on itself and not being able to do anything to alter it.
In here, in my underground kingdom, I have complete control over everything. I have the power to affect people’s lives, to transform their thinking, their whole belief system, to free them of their negative thought patterns and bring them the peace, acceptance and fulfilment they have been seeking from the moment they were born. In here I CAN change the world.
One set of twins at a time.
“Bill, back to the first question - what would you do if another boy tried to kiss you?”
My confronting proposal makes him shift awkwardly in his seat. “I don’t know. Depends on who it is.”
“Ah, so you’re considering it,” I remark triumphantly. “You might let them if it was somebody you liked.”
He looks horrified, as though he’s just accidentally revealed a shameful secret he didn’t even know he was keeping. Even Tom is staring hard at him, as though he’s never seen this side of Bill before.
“You’re a cute kid, Bilbo. You draw attention everywhere you go. I’m guessing that you must have been hit on by horny men before. Have any made passes at you? Groped your ass?”
“A few times,” he admits uncomfortably.
“Who?”
“Strangers at parties. Music industry types. Guys like that.”
“How do you handle it?”
“I call security. They’ll get rid of them.”
“What if they’re not around?”
“Well, there’s always Tom. He’s usually never far away. He’ll tell them to get their goddamn hands off me.” He turns to his brother, grateful for the constant protection of his bigger, stronger sibling. It must be like having a live-in bodyguard.
“And what if Tom’s not there for some reason? Then how do you deal with somebody making unwanted advances towards you?”
“I say thanks but no thanks. I tell the person it’s very…fl…flutter…” He stumbles with his English pronunciation for a moment. “Flattering but I’m not interested.”
“You reject them in a kind way. You’re polite about it.”
“I guess so. Yeah.”
I smile to myself. That seems to be one of Bill’s typical traits. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or upset them. He’s such a nice boy, always considering others before himself.
“But if they’re really being a pain in the ass, I’ll just tell them to fuck off. And if they don’t, I’ll knee them in the balls.”
Okay, maybe not so nice.
“What if it was someone you knew? Like Georg?” I suggest, thinking of the band’s handsome long-haired bass player. “What would you do if he tried to kiss you?”
Tom snorts, deeming the idea plain ludicrous.
“Georg?” Bill looks aghast, his eyebrows lifting to create wrinkles of incredulity on his forehead. “No way! He would never do that. Ever. He’s like my best friend, like my brother.”
Hastily glancing at an unimpressed Tom, he adds, “You know what I mean. He just wouldn’t. Besides, Georg has a girlfriend.”
“That is of no importance these days. Georg is a fine-looking man. Strong. Masculine. If he came out and told you that he was secretly attracted to you, would you shun him? What if he asked you for just one kiss? Begged you for it? Would you give it to him?”
Bill sits there with his mouth gaping open, eyes darting around, trying to imagine such a thing happening in an alternate universe.
“I…Oh God. No.” He actually shudders a little. “No, I wouldn’t. That would be just too weird. Besides, he wouldn’t ask for that anyway. Not in a million years.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because I know Georg.” He gives me a flat look. “And you don’t.”
“Fair enough,” I concede. “What if it was somebody else? Somebody who’s not that close to you. Like, for example, me?”
Before he has a chance to object, I toss in, “And don’t say you weren’t thinking about it. I saw you looking at my lips earlier.”
Instead of another blush rising to stain his cheeks, all the blood drains from them, Bill’s face going white, like a sheet of paper. He can’t bring himself to deny it because it’s true. He WAS looking at me. With interest. Tom divides his frowning glance between the two of us, not seeming too happy about this news at all. I pay no heed to him, focusing on the prettier, more feminine teenager across from me.
“Do you think I’m attractive, Bill?” I ask in a low, purring murmur, leaning forward over the table, my yellow eyes burning like fire into his widely-open brown ones, forcing him to feel my potent male energy, to feel the heat he invokes in my blood. He frozenly stares back at me, intimidated by my frightening intensity.
“If I asked you very, very nicely, would you let me be the first man to kiss you?”
“Stop it!” Tom explodes, banging his fists onto the table top and scowling murderously at me. “Leave my brother alone, you sick son of a bitch!”
“Why?” I respond, unfazed by his outburst and continuing to gaze at Bill hypnotically, holding his eyes enslaved with mine. “I’m not hurting him. I’m not even touching him. I’m just looking at Bill, asking a simple question.”
“Stop staring at him like that. You’re freaking him out,” Tom says in a vexed hiss, indicating to Bill’s pale face and saucer-shaped pupils.
“Maybe he needs to be freaked out,” I contemplate, still eyeing Bill as though I’m a looming jaguar and he’s a shivering little rabbit I’m about to devour. Then I shift my sharp, cat-like stare to Tom, pinning him with it.
“Or maybe YOU do, Tommy.”
Too confused by my mystifying demeanour to be angry anymore, Tom shakes his head in bewildered despair, dreads tumbling around his shoulders. “Why are you doing this to us, man? Why? What have we ever done to you?”
“I know you’re baffled by what’s happening but believe me, it’s not my intention to harm you. Either of you.” I’m speaking more kindly now. “I just want to be your teacher, that’s all.”
“To teach us what?”
“Something very valuable - how to love each other.”
“But we already do,” Tom insists.
“Yes, but there’s a greater level of love you boys haven’t reached yet. I know you haven’t because I’ve watched you together and I can tell it’s missing. You need to find it, to reach it. And I’m going to show you how to accomplish that.”
Shaking his head again, Tom frowns in utter incomprehension. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“All right. Let’s get down to the real issue here.” I look between them both. “I assume you guys know what twincest is?”
Bill gulps and glances uneasily at his blonder duplicate. Oh, yes. Bill definitely knows what it is.
“Oh my God,” Tom mutters in revulsion, curling his upper lip. “Is THAT what this entire exercise is all about? You’re just some perverted nut-job who wants to watch us have sex with each other?”
He swallows nauseatingly, as though the very thought repulses him, and leans forward dizzily, palm held over his mouth like he’s going to throw up on the floor any second now. Bill appears worried, beginning to reach out for his ill-looking brother, but Tom pushes his concerned hand away, black-coffee eyes flashing with sudden outrage.
“Let me tell you something, you creepy Asian asshole,” the older one growls as he leaps up from his chair, pointing a furious finger in my direction. “It’s NOT gonna happen! You can go fuck yourself, you twisted freak! You can fuck yourself and go to fucking hell!”
With teeth bared like a timber wolf about to attack, Tom aggressively swipes an empty coffee mug up from the table, raising his arm and preparing to hurl it at me. The mug is made of coated, fired clay and carries enough weight to knock someone out if it struck them squarely in the skull.
“Put that down, you cranky German brat,” I order, rising to my full height and slicing him with a menacing amber glare. “Do not disrespect me. Not unless you want me to hurt you. Or him.”
Here I look ominously towards Bill, the younger one sitting there tensely with wide, anxious eyes, white-edged fingernails digging into the armrest of his seat. Tom halts immediately, just like I knew he would, casting a glance of trepidation towards his smaller sibling. Oh, it’s so easy to subdue them. All I have to do is threaten the other one and like the protecting brothers they are, they’ll always choose to back down rather than put their twin in danger.
“Do you want me to get violent, Tom? No?” In a firmer tone, I bark, “Then sit. Your ass. Down!”
Tom slowly puts the mug back onto the table. Slumping resignedly in his chair again, the dread-headed boy drops his face into his palms and mumbles helplessly, “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I can’t believe we’re being held hostage by some psycho stalker fan.”
“I’m not a fan,” I coolly remark as I take my own seat again. “In fact, I don’t even like your music.”
Tom glances back up in disbelief, mouth hanging open. “What? So, we’re here because you HATE us? Dude, you could have just bitched about us on your facebook page or made up some mocking video clip and put it on YouTube, like everyone else does. Just because you don’t like our songs it’s no excuse for kidnapping us! All Bill and I want to do is make music. Whether you like it or not, I still don’t think we deserve this rather harsh punishment.”
“You think I’m punishing you? You’ve got me completely wrong. And this is not about sex. It’s about love. Brotherly love.”
“What you do know about brotherly love, huh?” Tom rebounds with much scorn. “I bet you don’t even have a brother.”
I am silent for a moment, my face turning blank and expressionless.
“Good guess,” I reveal in a stiff tone. “He died four years ago.”
That shuts Tom up. For a few seconds, anyway, his initial startled surprise dissolving back into indignant objection once again.
“Well, I’m sorry for your loss but it’s no reason to abduct Bill or hold us here against our will. That has nothing to do with us.”
“No, it has EVERYTHING to do with you!” I sharply insist, gripping the edge of the table and shifting forwards to peer intensely at them. “That is precisely the reason why I’m holding you here. Don’t you see?”
Bill exchanges a befuddled glance with Tom, the pair of them unconsciously recoiling away from me and scooting closer together in their chairs. They must think I’m completely nuts – some crazy-eyed, obsessive madman whose motives make no sense to anyone but me. Realising that this erratic behaviour is not conductive to my mission, I release a slow breath and lean back in my chair, elegantly tucking my hair behind my ears and adjusting the ponytail neatly over my shoulder in an effort to regain my dignity and stop looking like an escapee from a lunatic asylum. I smooth the front of my shirt down and take another couple of calming breaths before dropping the bombshell and finally giving them the explanation they’ve been waiting for.
“He was my twin. My identical twin.”
Giving each of the boys in front of me a direct look, I conclude, “Just like you two.”
………
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Captivation