Twisted Pretzel Chapter 6: Click, Snap, Kill, Destroy
Title: Twisted Pretzel
Author: 2he_re (Heather and Reena)
Fandom: Jonas Brothers
Pairing(s): Joe/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, the real people in it are used without their permission and we do not own them or have any copyright to any part of any of them. We do not believe any of this happened, is likely to happen, or will happen. It is simply a story created around known facts about those involved.
Summary: Mrs. Johnson dislikes the Jonas Brothers. She hates Joe. Why? Doesn’t really matter does it? What matters is that she was playing a game to get rid of him. Death. Horrible death.
“Tristan Darthe” was her pawn. Arrested a year after the incident and tried. His mental state was proven to be unstable, and instead of a jail sentence he was sentenced to an asylum for the rest of his poor, pathetic, lonesome life, where I'm not even allowed to go fucking suicidal.
Call me unstable, call me insane, but oh deary me, I’d loved that game. I mean, money is good and all, but you know, killing is better.
But damn, I’d lost.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 pt. 1 Chapter 21 pt. 2 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26
~*~
Cameras have been around for a long time. Digital ones have been around for a good amount of time too. Digital ones are better. You have those old film ones that all it takes is exposure to the light and the picture goes, “Bye, bye.” You can’t delete pictures and you can’t tell if the picture turned out well or not, so you’re not sure if you should take another picture and waste another piece of film. That’s why I love digital ones. You can see the ones that were taken, you can decide if you need another picture, and you can delete bad ones.
Really though, you can delete the ones that you don’t want to be seen. Like with the idiot who had been following me around outside. He took pictures of me. He was annoying. I killed him because he was annoying. So here’s the lesson for the day, don’t be annoying, or someone is going to kill you.
I smiled as I looked out through the window of the kitchen. My hands were submerged under the streaming water. I looked down, watching as the water ran red as it fell off of my hands, then to pink. I cupped the water, watching as light pink started to swirl up in the clear water.
I let the water fall, spinning down the drain. Spinning away the blood. Humming softly to myself, I drew my hands back, all clean, and wiped them on my pants, or rather Joe’s. They weren’t the white ones from earlier. Those I had gotten blood on, so they went in the fire that burned that annoying guy’s body. The camera was still by his body though. Lots of pretty pictures of what I had done to him before I’d burned him, none of me.
I wiped off the Jonas’ kitchen knife, which I think I’d become attached to. It was pretty clean, but, I mean, you could still get DNA and whatnot from it. I needed to find where they kept the bleach around here.
But I didn’t find it in time.
Too soon the door opened, and the Jonas family came pouring back into the house that had been a beautiful silence before. Bags and bags and bags. I slid the knife back into its spot, my back to them. I don’t know if they saw it, but no one said anything to me, because they were blabbing on together. Random things about random things. I didn’t even try to follow.
“Tristan!” I turned around at my name as Frankie’s bubbly voice cut through the rest of the chatter, “We’ve got you lots of clothes, that Mom says you’ll like. I helped pick out the…” He stared at my face. “You’re Tristan right?”
Denise and Mr. Jonas had moved into a different room, but the other three brothers had all stopped moving. Their eyes glued to my face. “Wow, that’s a lot of makeup.” I blinked at Joe. Kevin swallowed and muttered something before moving out.
Nick scratched his neck. “Mom sometimes can’t get hers that well.”
“That’s a compliment, right?”
“You look like a girl. Or well, more like a girl.”
“You still look like Joe.” I shot back. I wasn’t sure if what I said was a compliment or not, the words just falling off my tongue. Joe rolled his eyes, and I was the one who moved out of the room, Frankie’s stare was just a little much for me.
I was going back up to Joe’s room, ready to try and find something to do there, but Denise intercepted me, took one look at my face, and her mouth curved into an artful “O.” She forced a smile, her dress still swaying from when she had come to a sudden stop. “That’s a lovely job. Um, we’ve actually got the guest room set up now, sorry it wasn’t ready last night. It was just, first or so day home from tour and all. There was a friend who’d slept over the night before you, and we hadn’t had time to take fix the room up. Sorry you needed to sleep with Joe for the night. He snores.” I barely suppressed a snort.
I was led to my room, which was nice and spacey. It wasn’t quite as big as Joe’s room, but the bed was just as well equipped with pillows. On the bed and littering the floor was the only mess, and it was in plastic shopping bags.
“Everything in here is yours, honey. You’re family now, so don’t worry about asking if you need anything.”
I opened my mouth.
“Just, don’t worry, rest up, relax. Everything is going to be fine. We won’t send you back to your dad. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.” Her dark hair bounced as she did a little roll on her feet as if thinking for more to say. “I’ll leave you to it then. I’m pretty sure everything is the right size.”
Off she went to Jonas lala-land out the door, which she considerately closed behind her. I started to hunt through the bags, finding clothes of all brands and colors. I smiled a little. Just because, they were being so nice. They barely knew me, and, yet, I felt like family. An actual family member.
What kind of sick twisted person kills someone in their family? Apparently me.
In one of the bags I found a sketch book and a set of charcoal pencils. There was a note stuck to the front. Kevin was right, you look like an artist. I smiled, it was cute. The larger writing made it Frankie’s hand writing, no way did the older boys have that large of writing. But the kid wasn’t too bad. I moved to the bed and flipped the notebook open, fingering a pencil.
A heart.
I started to draw a heart, one like I would find when I opened Joe up. Not the heart that girls doodle on the edge of their notebooks, a messy heart of a human. A hand was holding it, dripping with blood, squeezing it. The fingers were long and spindly, wrapping it. A hand was held out at the bottom, older. It was waiting for the heart to be-
“Tristan?”
I snapped my head up. “What?”
Joe was halfway in the room. Then he was on the bed next to me. I shifted the cover closed on the notebook. Too gory. The Jonas family didn’t do gory. “What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Obviously not nothing.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, and I wanted to rake it off with my nails. Pull it from his face with blood, feel the skin under my nails oozing and soft. Later, I told myself, I’d get to do it later.
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugged, lying back with his arms under his head on my bed. “Mom said to apologize to you. Said we should go running or something.”
“What?”
“I like running. It calms me a lot. Just keeping a certain pace, how it doesn’t change, slow down or speed up. You can keep that pace for a long time.”
I nodded. “Becomes a part of you, and you just fall into it whenever you start. Sometimes you can’t stop.” I looked at him. Like, actually looked at him, without imaging the scary teens sobbing all over him, without the image he got from being a Disney plaything. He was okay. I decided. Not bad, not really good either. He wore tight white jeans that didn’t leave too much to imagine, his shirts weren’t anything I would wear, and you could tell he was someone who straightened his hair every morning. But he was someone I could get along with until I killed him. Someone I could spend enough time with to get a nice picture taken. Maybe go the whole time without begging for sex. He wasn’t really the asshole he seemed to be.
He laughed. “You’re not that bad, even though you look like a girl, and wear makeup like one.”
I scowled, and stood up, throwing the sketch book at the table. “Better than one.” I was wrong, he still was an ass.
“So you want to go running?”
“Not really.” I crossed my arms, hip jutting out. Joe’s eyes skimmed over my form, taking in the new position of my body. He probably hasn’t seen a guy pop their hip before. Sheltered Jonas.
“Come on, you need to get out of the house around dinner, or Mom will rope you into helping to cook.”
I glared. “That’s fine.”
Joe made a face. I caught it only because I was staring. Wow, I was pathetic. “It sucks; she gets really bossy and annoying.”
“No.”
“Too bad, Mom said you had to go. Run in that, or in sweats or something.”
“I don’t like sweats.”
“Fine then, run in jeans, like I care. I don’t want to be doing this either, you’re not the funnest person to be around.”
I snarled. Fucking straight popstar thought he was something, and it was damn annoying. He was nothing really, just another guy I was going to kill. “Screw you, and go get yourself a fuck. Loosen up that tight ass of yours.”
“Screw me?” Joe asked in outrage. “Screw you; you’re the one going all uptight and snotty on me.”
I gave a chuckle. “Hmm, so then who should I fuck around here, where I’m not even allowed outside? Your little brother, darlin’? Little Nick?” I smirked as Joe’s face twisted. He twisted almost as much as I do sometimes. In his eyes I could see he was almost gone. He was fighting that out of control feeling. The one that gives you blind rage. You want to hurt someone, stab someone, bite them, tear them, twist them, break them. He shouldn’t be fighting it. That’s not fun. My dark eyes danced. His sane light was disappearing.
I could feel my mind start to darken. I was ready for him. I was waiting. There’s those thoughts of how you don’t care how far you push someone. When you don’t care how far you have to go to see them snap. All you want to do is see them snap. Snap little Joey, snap. “I’m sure Nicky wouldn’t mind fucking. I bet I could get him to do it too. A few sly glances, little sweet kisses, and he’d be all-”
Joe snapped. That simply, that easily. I was surprised it had been that easy, just words, no actions. My arms were pinned to the wall behind me. His hands tight and hot. They were sweating. He was sweating and scared. I could feel the heat pulsing off of him. I licked my lips, eyes never leaving his. He was fighting to try and push back the feeling. The rage. He was helpless really. Everyone was at that stage. Their minds could be skewed, and their logic so distorted. Twisted. Mine.
“Don’t say that,” he hissed.
“I’m gonna fuck your brother. I’m gonna fuck your brother. Underage, underage, little Nicky I shall fuck.”
Glaring. That was all he was doing now, just glaring at me. I didn’t want that. I wanted him to hit me, punch me, slap me. I don’t care. Pull my hair, bite my skin, draw blood. Later I was going to kill him. I was going to rip his heart from his body and display it for the world to see. For his mom to see, and his little brother, and all those emotional bitches who follow them around. He had to hurt me now. He needed to get back at me for what I was going to do.
“You don’t like that do you?” I taunted. “Not one bit.” Low growl of warning. “Don’t like the idea that I’m going to get in bed with your brother. That I’m the one who is going to take that ring off of his finger?”
“Stop.”
I grinned. “He’s going to bend over for me.”
“Stop.”
“Beg for me to do him.”
“Stop it, Tristan.” Gritted teeth. Lost eyes. Pushing, breaking, fighting.
I slowed down my thoughts, slowed down as I spoke, rolling each word over my tongue, each one a sweet candy I needed to savor. “Scream my name.”
The door slammed shut. He was gone. The warmth of his hands was gone, his hot breath was gone, the pulsing of his body, gone. It was just me in a room that wasn’t really mine, in a house that would never be my home.
I looked at the door. It stood there mocking me, going, “Ha! He’s winning right now: Joe one, Killer zero. He didn’t break. You failed. You didn’t fucking win. Pathetic man-whore and gay screw-up.”
I screamed and flew at the door, pounding it and slamming my fists into it. Over and over and over. Stupid fucking door! Stupid fucking Joe, stupid fucking Mrs. Johnson, stupid fucking knife, stupid fucking job - I slid down against the door, banging my head against it. Stupid fucking me.
Breathe.
It’s how you get through everything: pain, giving birth, action, life, sex, stupid thoughts.
My breath caught. Breathing didn’t work. Screw breathing.
Run.
I pushed off of the floor. I was going to run fast, I was going to run far, out of the damn house, and if it didn’t work, I wasn’t coming back. Screw the job. Screw Mrs. Johnson. I was going to find some old fucked up bum and carve his heart out with a spork, have him be a homo and make everything better.
~*~
When someone is watching you, you get this feeling. It’s this small prickling feeling on the back of your neck. Your hair stands on end, you get paranoid, and you have the urge to glance over your shoulder every few steps. If you don’t know who it is, it can start to mess with your mind. Your mind tells you stupid shit, like it’s some guy coming after you with a knife, and they’re planning on slicing you up and leaving you for the dead.
See, stupid shit. For a long time running I had that feeling. I knew someone was watching. I was pretty sure they were following me, for their eyes to stay on me that long. I disappeared into a group of trees - in Texas, really? - planning on getting the idiot who couldn’t keep his eyes off of me. I checked around a tree, and I caught a glimpse of my follower.
I was so pissed. So fucking glad I didn’t have something sharp or I think I would’ve gutted the kid right then and there, screw pinning his pathetic human heart on the wall.
Joe had followed me. He had fucking followed me, that jackass.
Joe was looking in the trees, obviously debating whether or not he should go in to keep following me. He had changed into sweat pants that showed off his ass too well and a hoodie. What the hell? It wasn’t cold outside. It was actually pretty warm, but there he was wrapped up in a hoodie, searching the trees. There, he came into the first layer of trees.
“What are you doing?”
Joe’s head whipped around, staring at me as I brushed aside branches and all but stomped out to face him.
“I thought you’d get lost.”
“Stalker.” I walked up to him, eyes never leaving his. His were confused, maybe a little lost. And something else I couldn’t put my finger on then.
“What? No I-”
“I never took you for one to stalk a pretty little piece of ass like me.” I smiled, coming so close that I could feel his body heat, even through the sweatshirt. “Aren’t you hot in that?” My tongue stud flashed out in the fading sun, and his eyes darted down to it. I smiled with an open mouth, running the stud lightly along the front of my teeth. It made a soft clicking noise.
“It’s Texas.” I saw how hard it was for him to take his eyes from the jewelry. Shiny, shiny, I flickered it around some more. He swallowed, trying to resist. Why resist? Don’t resist. “It always gets cold after the sun goes down.”
“But the sun isn’t down yet,” I muttered with a smile. My fingers played with the hem of his hoodie, rolling the thick fabric. My thigh was pressed up against his groin, and it was hardening. I shifted a little: teasing and soft friction.
“What?”
“So you can take it off.” I tugged gently upward, taking the shirt with it. My fingers brushed over the exposed skin, finding only taunt skin and muscle. He was ripped. I smiled, I was getting a ripped man. So much better than the drunk homo idea. Joe did nothing to stop me, made no move as my fingers splayed over his back. I could barely feel him breathing under my touch. I moved my mouth to his ear, “Or better yet,” I ran my nails up his back, letting his shirt fall back down, “this is more fun.”
He didn’t do anything to stop me as my hands slid out against his flesh. I could feel every curve, every dip of muscle. That was all he had under there, muscle. I could feel how he was trying to take deep breathes, trying to fight through whatever was going on in his mind.
I stopped moving, listening to the soft in and out of his breathing. He was scared, trying to relax, not freak. He didn’t want to hurt me I realized. For now I was family, and family doesn’t hurt family. He thought I needed this. He wasn’t going to make a bigger riff between us because it would hurt his mom. He wouldn’t do that. She was family. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I whispered. “Not now, not with this.” I promised, gently pressing my lips to the spot right under his ear. He slowly relaxed as I just stayed there, breathing in and out through my nose, not continuing to roam his body.
I closed my eyes, breathing him in.
Click, click, snap, snap.
I snapped my eyes open, Joe’s hands pushing me away. “The fuck?!”
He stumbled away, seeming way more scared than when I had been pretty much getting ready to butt rape him. I looked around, finding the fucking idiot who had made that sound. It was some asshole, holding a camera.
Camera.
I froze, staring at it. Fuck I had just been caught on camera. Joe seemed just as stunned as I was, but the guy was already starting to run away. I growled, fuck no, oh fuck no. I took a step to go after him.
“God, I can’t believe… I - how could you?”
~*~