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The past week had been full of 'firsts' for Marlo. It was the first time he'd actually feared a teacher's wrath. The first time he'd ever gotten sick from exercise. The first time he'd ever loathed someone so deeply, he could hardly think straight. And if you asked him how much he hated Killingworth, he'd say 'he's a hardass.' The real person Marlo loathed with such hatred was his own brother, who seemed to be blissful is the fact he could get off doing crap, and Marlo got to deal with the punishments.

And Killingworth punishments were much unlike conventional punishments.

The first night he'd not known what to expect. But it certainly hadn't been running a million laps and puking later from exhaustion. It hadn't been staying up all night while his muscles burned and his body cried out for mercy, even though he'd get none. In mercy, Killingworth made it clear that it was a factor he lacked. In full, Marlo had expected some cleaning chores, but nothing like this.
Once he'd been told to clean, and that night, his body had still ached and throbbed. It seemed he just couldn't scrub fast enough. Pulling weeds in the dark...even that made Marlo's body burn in pain.

And the punishment didn't stop there. The lack of sleep was greatly cutting into his classes. By the second day, he'd fallen asleep in almost every class, and had been forced to stand.
Another first for Marlo, falling asleep standing.
He found that if you lacked enough sleep, you could fall asleep anywhere. The bathroom, standing, walking in between classes.

'Your brother backchatted-" Marlo didn't even bother to keep listening. He was already on the wet earth, starting the tedious task of a hundred push ups. After the first few nights, it was usually best to get the work done as fast and as efficiently as possible. But not to fast. Or he'd have to do them again. Tonight was slightly diffrent though. Tonight, Elzo had the gall to try and cheer his brother up. Elzo had the gall to show his face to him. Elzo, who had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
Breathing heavy, muscles on fire, Marlo's knuckled were turning white and his fingers dug into the ground. He might not be able to take his anger out, but he could still show it.

14 push ups in, Marlo wasn't feeling the burn just yet. After a week, it took a bit longer, usually around 50 or so now. The hard part wasn't doing the push ups, it was keeping count. Killingworth's 'chatter' had a tendance to drive Marlo's mind to his brother, making him angry. Which in turn, would drive his focus away from counting, and more towards his brother. And more anger. It was a nasty cycle.

Add on 25? "s**t." Marlo hisses under his breath hoping Killingworth missed his curse. The number had made him loose count. Heck, he hadn't even reached 50 yet! Well, best to hope Killingworth was keeping count. If he took too long he'd be forced to do something else.

The comment about pissing in cereal did make Marlo relax slightly. Sadly Killingworth was sort of right. "I didn't piss in it. I dumped it on his ******** empty head." Ah the memories...Sadly the reason behind dumping cereal on Elzo's head had been because he'd been making fun or Marlo's grade in math. And then back to present day, only with a bit more angry due to the memory. Plus, he'd just talked back to Killingworth. Probably not the best idea.

The chuckle both made Marlo feel like he'd gotten away with it, but, it also brought about a feeling of dread. Last time Killingworth had laughed...oh that's right, he'd never laughed. But it still seemed to make Marlo guess that it would hold no ground. Not with the sadistic punishments that were probably still coming his way.

Then came the 'talk' Only this talk wasn't the one you'd get in health, (but the idea of Killingworth teaching Hillworth boys about sex was highly unwanted. It was best left to a separate teacher, which it thankfully was). Each night it was the same. How he was always s**t, how Elzo was to blame.
And the worst part was that Marlo couldn't ever say he was wrong.
In fact, Killingworth was right. Perhaps more then he knew. For as long as Marlo could remember, Elzo had gotten the two of them in trouble, both at home, and at school. He'd had to take Elzo's beatings dozens of times, taken the blame hundreds, and had suffered in general because of his older brother's blunders.
But even when Killingworth was technically right, Marlo still got angry.
"I bet you'd know about being a b***h then wouldn't you?" Marlo muttered under his breath. It'd cost him, but god he just-
"If my life meant nothing, then why are YOU bothering to waste your time, thus, part of your life, dolling out this punishment in the dead of night to a student who frankly, really would find it more effective to punish the one who hasn't really seemed to even understand the depth or concept of what his actions have entailed." A bit winded from his run on of a sentence, Marlo readjusted his arms, continuing his pushups, waiting for some blow to land or, better yet, MORE strenuous activity be placed upon him.

Once no blow came and a few seconds of silence had passed, Marlo let out the breath he did even know he had been holding. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should just keep his mouth shut. It was only going to get him more...
Then, as to be expected, more words came out from Killingworth, each one sending Marlo back to his past, reliving all his memories of his brother. And how his brother dragged him down. It was like a train wreck with a car wreck added in. It was horrible, and he couldn't turn away...but even after it stopped, those memories were seared into his skull. When Marlo felt even the light weight of the used cigarette land on his back, he viably flinched. His knuckles had lost all of there pale tone, his breath was slower then before. And above that, he'd stopped doing push ups. Not the best idea.

"It's Marlo." still facing the dirt, frozen, Marlo's voice was just a notch above a whisper. Combined with a hiss. "It's MARLO. Not Xanis number ******** two. Stop comparing me to that god damn dead weight." His fingers dug into the earth, resuming the white sheen of anger. However, he still hadn't moved, only his body seemed to be trembling. If it was in anger or exhaustion, Marlo couldn't tell you. He was to busy in his mind, focusing his rage on his brother.

Turning his head slightly, just enough to see Killingworth's face, Marlo hissed, "and doesn't blood and intestinal parts turn brown with age, not pink? " He was smiling, but it was a smile that was clear. He stopped caring about consequences. And worse, he'd stop caring about himself.

Killingworth's lack of reprimand went almost unnoticed by Marlo. He was to involved in his own thoughts to really pay attention to what his body was doing. Ten push ups? What did it matter? He wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't worth s**t.

Deep down, the inner Marlo wanted to say that it was all a lie. Just something to upset him. But...with the way things looked, Marlo could only bit back the bitterness of the fact that what Killingworth was right. That what he said was truth. As the detention came to an early close, Marlo walked back to the dorms looking more beaten then he had in past week. In fact, he looked like he might die. Because, on the inside, he might as well be dead.
Sweaty and gross, he'd meandered into the bathroom to rinse of his dirt covered hands and whip the sweat from his brow. But the visage that greeted him in the mirror make the younger Xanis brother freeze. His eyes were red, and small lines of water seemed to have run down his face, leaving a clean train on the otherwise dirty face. As he stared at his refection, Marlo felt his emotions reach the final stage.
Unable to hold back, Marlo threw his fist into the mirror, shattering it and sending sharp fragments to the ground, and into his knuckles.
He didn't even register the pain as he sank to the floor.

And for the first time in his life, Marlo Xanis openly wept.

But not for his brother.
This time, he was weeping for himself.