Love me love me
Say that you love me
Fool me fool me
Go on and fool me
Love me love me
Pretend that you love me

- The Cardigans

Nights are forever. Listening to the cold autumn wind roaring in the eaves, his stomach aching and his head whirling with thoughts, Lincoln Loud slipped in and out of fitful consciousness, falling asleep sometimes just long enough to dream before snapping awake again. He was naked under the covers save for a pair of white panties with purple polka dots that he took from an unattended laundry basket. The fabric was soft and silky against his fevered flesh, and when he moved, a shiver raced up his spine. Sometimes he imagined he heard movement in the hall, and he would go stock still to listen, his heart racing and his penis twitching.

But she didn't come to him.

She never came to him.

Toward dawn, the gnawing loss in his chest was eclipsed by burning anger, and his hands gipped the hem of his blanket. She knew how he felt. She knew how deeply he loved her. Yet, she rejected him. She wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't look at him, would barely acknowledge his presence. She was just like every other girl he had ever loved, from Cristina to Ronnie Anne: They all rejected him, they all laughed at him, they all treated him like common dog shit. He thought she was different, he thought she cared about him...he allowed himself to believe that because she was his sister she would love him and treat him better than the others, but he was wrong, so fucking wrong.

He was stupid. He rose above his station in life and believed for one fleeting moment that he would find love and happiness, but Fate laid its eyes upon him, saw his easy, happy smile...and snatched it from him. He remembered the story of Job, which he'd heard in Sunday School. Job was God's pet human, and God poured out blessing after blessing on Job. One day the Devil came to God and said, 'Job only loves you because you bless him. Why don't you take those away and see how fast he deserts you?' Curse after curse fell onto Job; everything that could go wrong with him, did. He was Job, only without the first being blessed part. From his earliest memory, he was cursed and unhappy. Things never went his way, he never got what he wanted, if something bad was going to happen, it was going to happen to him, he was weak, dominated by women, sisters who were bigger, stronger...that was just the way it was.

Then, for a brief second, he felt such intense happiness that everything that had come before ceased to matter. He should have known it wouldn't last. He should have fucking known.

He shook with rage, his teeth clamping painfully together and his eyes bulging from his wan face. A branch scraped the window pane, and the hollow, lonely sound matched the feeling in his heart.

When he slept next, he dreamed of her face, only instead of being soft and warm, it was cold and hard, her eyes narrowed in hatred. "I don't love you," she said, and he jerked awake again, his chest tight. He was sad. Then he was angry. Then he was sad again. Not for the first time, he closed his eyes and spoke to God, asking that he guide her to him, demanding that he be given this one crumb from the plate of joy, but God was dead and didn't answer.

He prayed next to Satan, offering his soul and his services if only His Dark Majesty would grant him this one wish. Just a week with her...just one week...I will burn several churches in your honor.

Lucifer didn't answer either. The fires of hell crackled alone.

Please love me, he thought miserably, please love me...then anger consumed him...or else...

Trembling now, he sat up against the headboard and crossed his arms. He glanced down at the clock on the nightstand. Red numbers glowed like demonic eyes: 4:58. He chuckled humorlessly. An hour and two minutes until he would have to get up and face another day of not being loved by her, another day of seeing her face and not having her. Fury swept through him. He got up and began to pace, his body thrumming with nervous energy. How could you do this to me? Why would you tease me like this? Why would you make me think you wanted me only to push me away and yell at me? You're a goddamn bitch, I hate you. Fuck you. I shouldn't want you but I do and I hate myself for it.

He was at his door now, his hand resting on the knob. He shook his head and started to turn, but went out into the hall instead. It was dark and silent. Everyone's sleeping peacefully and here I am in torment because of you...

Stepping lightly, he went to her door and pressed his ear against it. He couldn't hear anything, but she was in there, snuggled under the covers and smiling in her sleep because she didn't know the pain of loving someone who doesn't love you back...because she was normal, and her life wasn't one disappointment after another...because she wasn't Job the fucking Favored of God.

He put his hand on the knob and started to turn it, but stopped himself. He saw himself slipping beneath the covers next to her...saw her open her big, brown eyes...saw the shock, the anger, heard her hissing for him to leave her alone.

And what would he do?

He didn't know, and that scared him. He would probably cry...but he might do something else...something they would both regret.

Something brushed against his leg and he jumped. It was Cliff the cat. He was purring.

"Go away," Lincoln said.

Cliff purred louder. For some reason the warm, furry feeling against his leg made him mad, and he lashed out with his foot. "Go away!"

The cat complied, but then came back for more. Stupid prick. Flashing, Lincoln reached out, grabbed him around the neck, and yanked him off his feet. The cat let out a terrible sound before Lincoln wrapped a hand around its neck. Panicking, Cliff thrashed and swiped his claws; hot pain seared across Lincoln's chest. Rage filled him, and he tightened his grip, digging his fingers into the cat's soft throat.

Cliff's eyes bulged from their sockets, and his resistance grew weaker. Lincoln watched with knitted brows as the light of life faded, and he went limp. He held the cat by its neck for a long time, just to make sure it was dead. Lincoln's heart was crashing and his lungs sucked air. A strange feeling surged through him, and every nerve ending in his body tingled. He felt...powerful...as though he was finally in control.

He flashed an evil, toothy grin in the darkness, and then glanced over his shoulder at Luna and Luan's door. He wondered what Luna's throat would feel like under his hands, and shivered with delight. A small part of him was repulsed, but she broke his heart...she was just like the others...she deserved it...

Still holding Cliff by the neck, Lincoln went back to his room and closed the door. Remembering the way the cat fought, he masturbated furiously, crying Luna's name as he emptied his sack in a cold, lonely orgasm.

Why does life have to be so hard?

The girl with the short brown hair drew a deep, watery sigh and turned in her bed. She had been facing the wall and studying the pattern made by the spill of a streetlamp falling through the window for nearly an hour. Now, she faced the bed on the opposite side. Luan was an indistinct shape under the blankets. Luna smiled unconsciously at her best friend, the pain in her heart tinged with happiness. A tingle shot through her core, and she squeezed her legs together against the precious leak. Luan had no idea how deeply Luna loved her, how much she relished looking into her big, hazel eyes and listening to her soft, summery voice. Luna had loved her since they were kids, only then she didn't know she loved her. As a sister, of course, but not as a lover.

Luna affected confidence and self-assurance, but inside, she was afraid...afraid of Luan rejecting her, afraid of making her move and watching it backfire and her sister pull away from her. She couldn't bear the thought of ruining her relationship with Luan. It was for that reason she had not professed her love, and probably never would.

Then there was Lincoln. Poor, poor Lincoln. She took a deep breath and blinked hot tears from her eyes. She didn't mean to hurt him, she really didn't, things just...happened. Being in love with someone who doesn't love you back is the most depressing thing on the face of the earth, and sometimes you need to escape...sometimes when you're home alone save for your brother, you get drunk to ease the pain, and when your sweet, caring, loving brother finds you crying and shitfaced on the floor, you're so touched by his concern you kiss him...and then have sex with him. It shouldn't have happened for many reasons, but chief among them was the fact that her heart belonged always to Luan, and Lincoln was too...sensitive?...for a meaningless one night stand. He felt too deeply, too intensely.

He fell in love with her.

But she didn't love him back.

Not like that.

She tried to explain to him that what happened was wrong and she didn't love him in that way, but he either didn't understand or didn't want to understand, and continued pursuing her, writing her love letters, buying her flowers and stuffed animals, following her around like a little puppy dog...it was so cute, and if she wasn't already in love with Luan, she would most likely fall for him.

Two days ago, he tried to kiss her, and she pushed him away. Whoa, bro. He tried to do it again, and again, and finally she snapped at him. Take a hint, man, I'm not in love with you! I never was and I never will be! Her furrowed brows softened when she saw the hurt in his eyes. Look, you're my bro and you mean a lot to – but he was already fleeing, his back hitching as he started to cry.

All Luna could do was throw up her hands and sink onto the edge of her bed. She felt terrible, but it had to be done, you know? She didn't want to string him along or anything. He didn't deserve that; he deserved the honest truth, and she gave it to him because she loved him. If she didn't, she would have avoided conflict and given him false hope. Why not? It would have been a million times easier on her.

She'd been going out of her way to avoid him since then because she felt so bad about the whole thing. It was her fault, after all...her fault he was so broken up and sad...her fault he cried at night, the sound drifting through the vents and keeping her awake even long after it stopped...all her fucking fault. She had to woman up and at least try to talk to him, because he was her brother and he deserved to know exactly what she felt and why. Would she tell him she loved Luan? She didn't know. The prospect of vocalizing her deepest desire frightened her, because words have power and once something's spoken it becomes real, in a way. Though she didn't want to, she should. She owed it to him.

She had just fallen asleep when the doorknob rattled, and Cliff cried out in terror as his life drained away...

In the air duct running over Lincoln's room, Lucy pressed her face to the vent and stared at her brother's upturned face. He fell asleep shortly after masturbating, and Lucy felt a twinge of loss in her stomach. It was just as well, she figured. She didn't have the courage to go down there anyway. Each night, she watched him, her chest pounding and her loins aching, and sighed as she imagined lying naked in his arms, his seed drying on her inner things and his arms thrown protectively around her.

She had always been in love with her brother, though it was only recently that she realized it. She felt a certain kinship with him that she felt with none of her other siblings. For the longest time, she didn't know why; then she came to the realization that she sensed a great darkness in him. Underneath the chipped teeth and cowlick lurked something else...something black and slimy...something that made Lucy's virgin girlhood beat in time with her heart. She had known it was there for a while, but tonight she saw it: His hands wrapped tightly around Cliff's neck, his teeth bared and his brow hard. Her breath caught and her heart raced as the cat fought desperately for its pathetic life. By the time it fell limp, she was turned on, and touched herself until she, too, went limp.

Presently, she sighed and crawled back to the vent over her bed. She removed it and slipped through like a monkey. She replaced it and sat against her headboard, her arms crossed over her scrawny chest and her bottom lip between her teeth. Loving someone who doesn't love you back in the darkest thing Lucy had ever known.

And the most painful.

Would he accept her if she went to him? Would he enter her if she spread her legs for him? Would he bite her and scratch her and choke her until her body was quivering with pain and pleasure?

She desperately hoped so. She needed his love...and his hatred.

This story was inspired by a scene AberrantScript mentioned and really wanted to see (bless his dark, diseased little heart). I kept putting the bastard off, but he wouldn't leave me alone, so here, AS, choke on it.

Okay, it wasn't entirely like that. I wanted to write a story where Lincoln is the villain, AS suggested an emotionally powerful scene, and, after a month or so collecting my thoughts, I wrote it. I told him, I think, that I was going to go full AberrantScript and maybe try to write in his style or something, I forget, but it slipped my mind and I went full Flagg1991 instead. As a consolation prize, I used song lyrics in the body of the story as he often does and then attributed them to the artist at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Songs Referenced:

Lovefool by The Cardigans (1996)