My Twin Cousin, Pieta

Story by Riyoku

Kay. This is messy. My stories are always messy (literary, not literal). There's probably grammar errors EVERYWHERE and the rhythm would probably get boring after paragraph two. God knows how many typos there are (maybe he doesn't even know). It's rushed a bit, but I guess it'll do. Pah.

Kay. I'll write a chapter for every 500 page views. I'd feel like I was wasting time if I didn't do it like that. So if on the basis of view popularity, I'll write chapters until the story ends. Could be two chapters. Could be ten. Could be till when I get too busy and cut off the plot.

Enjoy, or try to. <3

9.13.2k8 - Ch. 1 up.

9.18.2k8 - Ch. 2 up. -- It sucks balls, compared to chapter one. Sorry.

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Pieta is my mirror image. It makes me happy when I tell her, "Eta, you're so pretty," because it makes me feel beautiful too. When I look at her, I can see the fire of her crystal-blue eyes reflecting mine. Our black hair holds the same obsidian luster, our skin the same paleness. Even our figures are alike, as if we were two dolls assembled from the same mold... but we aren't. I suppose, you could say that our molds are twins, even if we aren't. You see, her daddy is my daddy's twin brother. Her mum is my mum's twin sister. It's no surprise we cousins came out so similar.

And yet... we were so different. Her confident, never-fading smile and her graceful gait were so different from my every insecure motion, I couldn't help but place her as my own ideal future. Deep down, I knew she was more beautiful than anyone I've ever seen, and as an artist, it was enthralling to watch her as she went about her life. There were times when I wanted to somehow capture her on a fresh canvas as she dribbled a soccer ball down the field... but I was too afraid. Maybe not 'afraid'. I was too enchanted by her existence to ever dare imitate the brilliance. There was absolutely no possible way I could paint anyone so flawless, so I was content to be her best friend, stealing glances from time to time whenever her eyes fall away from mine.

It was last summer that I broke up with my boyfriend. He had a whole variety of wonderful qualities (for instance, being the president of the school's chamber music club.) He always treated me nicely, and was always very polite. There was something missing from our lives though. I had accepted his request to be his girlfriend because I was hopelessly in love with the idea of being in love. Even though I'd known that, I couldn't bring myself to miss the opportunity to have someone to call a lover. After a year, I still couldn't feel my chest flutter or burn when he held me. His face didn't bring about euphoria, and not once had I ever become distracted by thoughts of him. The idea of romance slowly drained away from my body and left me barely warm. To put it plainly, I had exhausted my false affections. All I had left were memories of our private moments and an intense ache that I found hard to ignore -- lust.

The days became uneventful. I locked myself in my room countless times, watching strange images pass over my computer screen with my hands trembling between my legs, too nervous to even touch the panties that separated my fingers from skin. I didn't think my skin would get any paler, but having stepped outside that summer no more than a handful of times, and only to watch the rain, I think I became a ghost of a girl. That was how I spent my weeks and weeks of summer, soaking my underwear day after day and enduring as my body continued its attention fasting.

School began again. Senior year is said to be packed with excitement. Now tell me -- what is so exciting about calculus and physics? I did well, but I was so bored. My mind continued drifting away to supress the dull aches between my legs and in my chest. Since when did I become like this? I never saw my ex again. It seemed to have been a good timing for a break-up, because he was suddenly forced to return to his native country to tend to ill grandparents, or something of that sort. I was free to find anyone else, and yet, I was too trapped by my own unconfident self to use that liberty.

The day that the leaves began to lose their greens, I had all these thoughts jumbled together in my head. Usually, I'd look forward to the weather getting colder (I loved autumn and winter as much as I detested spring and summer). My mind drifted with a panorama of these stupid worries and stresses, and before I knew it, someone grabbed me from behind on my way home from school. My first impression had been "What the fuck?!". Confusion quickly became interest. Not every teenage girl becomes a target for kidnapping. I was slightly flattered, just out of my own silliness, as well as nervous from the shock of being startled. The possibility of being killed or raped (or both) was the last thing on my mind. My uneventful days were over! The notion of an adventure wasn't s

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