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Summary
There was a needle in his neck.
Richard turned quickly, already having to fight what had been injected into his bloodstream.
“Jim,” he whined, reaching out for his brother. Jim was smiling at him, leering. It made Richard scared.
“Hush, bunny, it won’t hurt,” Jim soothed, taking Richard’s book from him and setting it on the coffee table.
“Jim,” Richard repeated, the word tight and quiet and afraid. Jim helped his twin to his feet, guiding him into the bedroom, siding him when he whined or whimpered or tried to protest.