It's For the Best

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
There was no once upon a time because their life was not a fairy tale and their relationship, whatever it was, was not condoned. WARNING: contains incestual themes, nothing graphic

Submitted: February 14, 2013

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Submitted: February 14, 2013



AN: I am not promoting nor condoning incestual relationships, so while I do not care what other people get up to between the sheets, keeping it in the family is not something I would suggest.

For the Best

They were the closest siblings anybody had ever seen. They always played nice, always at each other’s side, held hands as they skipped through the parking lot. She had her first real boyfriend when she was 15. He cried, but didn’t know why.

He got a girlfriend, finally, when he was 17. She hated her from the moment she met her. She couldn’t explain why if she had a gun to her head. Watching the girl coo and coddle her brother made her sick to her stomach.

The neighbors started talking when they were still holding hands as they strolled through the parking lot, ten years later. They didn’t understand why, they were just close. Very close.

An old woman shot them a nasty, hate filled glance in the movie theater, when she rested her head on her dear brother’s shoulder which was oh so comfortable. The town continued to talk about them and their touching and cooing and coddling.

He left for college when he was 18. She didn’t leave her room for two weeks. Her mother said it wasn’t healthy, the way she was attached to him. She didn’t understand what she meant. He was her best friend.

She eventually moved out and got married. He didn’t go to her wedding. She latched on to her new husband and looked straight ahead. It never was healthy the way she was attached to him anyway.

She knew he would disagree, if she brought it up. But she also knew she wouldn’t bring it up.

He called her once, in the middle of the night, a random night five years ago. He said he missed her, he also sounded drunk.

 She confessed, as she lay next to her husband in the dead of night, that she missed him too.

She hasn’t spoken to him since. Maybe it’s for the best.

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