My tune

Whether late, or whether soon
In the noon, or under moon
Soil will shift and leaf shall grow
Oh what wonders are found below

The green will push and filter through
To greet the air and bloom anew
Violet and amber, crimson and blue
Every scent, and every hue

Spring has come, never late nor soon
Just in time, to colour my tune

Mr Tiggalu

'Where's your brother?'
Sophie ignored the voice and scrubbed her hands furiously with the coarse sponge. Her skin was starting to hurt and the water in the sink turned pink but the blood remained.
'It's just, I haven't seen him in a while,' the voice continued.
The hand wash let out a muffled grunt as she punched the top to let out another ooze of blue gel. She had been scrubbing for so long that the sound of the sponge on her skin became a sort of white noise that drowned out the world outside the bathroom. Like the SHHHH... of a broken television. She hated that sound.
'Why isn't it coming off?' Sophie thought aloud.
'Oh, she speaks.'
Sophie refused to look at him. Looking made it worse. She kept scrubbing. The antiseptic smell of the hand wash was thick in the air. It reminded her of the time she was taken to the hospital. Or was it her brother? She hated hospitals.
'Tut tut tut. It's not working at all is it? You're probably making it worse. Your parents will see. Aren't they on their way home right now?'
Beads of sweat formed on Sophie's forehead. She felt one of them creeping down and wiped it away with her forearm.
'I'm impressed, you know. I don't think I could have done what you did. Brave. Very brave. And cold.'
Sophie's arms were aching. She couldn't keep this up for much longer. But she couldn't let her parents see her like this. She continued fighting the fatigue. How long had she been scrubbing? She ignored the sweat that was now running freely down her face, matting her hair to her temples and stinging her eyes.
'Oh, won't you look at me Soaf?'
He was behind her. Always behind her. Probably sitting on the edge of the bath. Sophie knew him. Knew his voice. She fought the urge to listen, but it was difficult. His voice floated effortlessly; a silk scarf on a gentle breeze, waiting to caress her ears with impossible delicacy.
'Is it the guilt troubling you my dear?'
'I didn't do anything!' she replied, immediately regretting her response.
'The memories are fading again aren't they? Oh Soaf. What's on your hands my dear?'
Sophie felt the fatigue spread. Her eyelids grew heavy, yet she found the growing sense of helplessness almost pleasurable. She enjoyed the way each word seemed to playfully touch her neck and wither to make room for the next. It was calming. Was she still scrubbing? She couldn't hear the sponge.
'You should go find your brother, my dear. Be a good girl and go see where he is.'
Sophie wanted to turn around. Every word increased the urge to look at him.
Maybe it will be ok this time. He wants to help me. But...
'That's it Soaf. Let me help you. You must be so tired.'
Sophie's arms hung limp, dripping pink droplets next to her bare feet. She didn't notice herself in the mirror. She turned her head, although it didn't feel like hers anymore.
As she turned, his last silken words were, 'There she is. My dear Soaf.'
Sophie looked at him. His features were blurred through the sweat in her eyes. Yet, his eyes. Those eyes were clear, and mesmerizing. The dilated pupils. She could see them expanding. Those two black pools reflecting a starless sky. They were growing.
There was no sound. His eyes drew her in, and shut out everything else, as if the air itself was sucked into those deep black wells. Unblinking eyes staring into infinity.
Sophie's calm surrender was interrupted with a sudden shot of panic. What am I doing?! I must not let him! Not again! Please...
She fought for control of her thoughts. He was wrapping himself around them. She felt him slither and coil, tightening his grip in the darkness of her mind.
'It's too late now my pet.'
The voice was back, yet different. This was not a silken touch. This was a shovel scraped along the contours of her brain.
Her eyes were still fixed on his, but Sophie caught a glimpse of the rest of his face as she fought the spell.
His mouth was not a mouth at all but rather a terrible wound infected with teeth. It hung open but didn't move even as the words bruised her brain. Were they his words at all? Surely...
'Who am I?'
Who said that?
Sophie? Sophie? Am I here?
The black pools grew and grew. Sophie felt a pain between her eyes like a nail being driven through her skull. She felt herself wince. Or was that him?
'I don't re..,' Sophie tried to get the words out.
'Don't remember? Your brother remembers. Doesn't he, my pet?'
The grating of his words made her want to retch. Her stomach felt like a snake consuming her heart. One big gulp.
'Listen...'
Sophie heard an almost imperceptibly small voice making its way meekly down the corridor before fading at the bathroom. With it came a whisper of a breeze that cooled the sweat on her forehead.
'Tee-ga Tee-ga Looo...'
'Do you hear him?'
The gentle singing weakened Sophie's resolve. Her knees hit the tiled floor of the bathroom with a crack as her legs gave way. It was so cold.
'Sammy?' she said.
'Tee-ga Tee-ga Booo...'
'He's calling me. Should I go to him?'
Sophie sat on the floor, staring back up into those pools. And that grinning wound.
'You know what I do if I'm called, don't you?'
Tears welled in her eyes. She gave a weak nod.
'All we ask is whooo...'
The moment the singing stopped everything went dark. A sudden WHOOSH removed all light, plunging Sophie's world into the black night of a deep ocean. Her ears were ringing with the SHHHH of a broken TV.
She lifted her aching arms, searching for something to help her up from the wet floor. Her hand found the edge of the sink. She pulled herself up. The shift of her weight was a sledgehammer pounding at her knees. They were sticky with blood.
'Hello?'
Her voice was a feather probing at dead air.
Nothing.
Sophie walked with agonising caution towards where the bathroom door should be. Warm air touched the back of her neck. An exhale. It froze her progress for a moment. She closed her eyes, trying to fight the shiver of fear that threatened to bring her to her knees again.
Forward.
'Tee-ga Tee-ga Looo...'
Sammy. Don't...
'Tee-ga Tee-ga Booo...'
Sophie got to the corridor. She guided herself through the pitch black with her left hand never leaving the wall. The singing was coming from her parents' bedroom. Sammy liked playing in there.
'All we ask is whooo...'
The breathing in Sophie's neck was gone, but she still felt a presence following her. Hovering. Watching. Waiting...
'Is he not me and youuu...'
Sophie made it to her parents' open door. She grabbed onto the door frame. A crushing weight suddenly slammed into her back. The air was ripped out of her lungs. She fell forward, hitting her face on something hard.

Lying face down on the floor, pale grey light seeped into the darkness of her world. Sophie strained to look up. She saw the edge of her parents' bed. The unmistakable silhouette of her brother was sitting there, staring up into vast black pools that hovered over that grinning wound. Sammy...
Utter darkness.

Warm liquid copper. A bloody tooth on shag carpet. Pulsating pain. Crippling fatigue. Sophie was awake.
The sun glared through the window at the far side of the bedroom. Sophie shielded her eyes with her right hand. Where was Sammy?
Her knees were stuck. The blood had caked into the fibres of the carpet. She jerked them free and grimaced at the sting. She crawled farther into the room. She couldn't remember ever feeling this tired. Sophie paused for a moment. Two bare feet came into view around the corner of the bed. She pulled herself along with renewed vigour.
'Sammy?'

Jane fumbled with the keys at the front door as she tried to clutch the grocery bags between her arms while talking on the phone.
'Yes, I'm here now. Finally. Traffic was horrible again. I swear people drive like lunatics just to ruin my day,' she said, opening the front door.
'Well, I'm glad you got home in one piece at least.'
Jane could hear the playful smile in her husband's voice. Then she saw the blood.
'Harry? Oh, God!'
'Jane? What's wrong? What happened?'
Jane's arms went limp. The phone fell to the floor, bouncing twice before sliding underneath the couch. The groceries crashed as well. A milk bottle smashed on the tiles and the white liquid flowed along the grouting to form perfectly square streams.
Jane didn't even notice. Her eyes were fixed on the trail of blood smears that started at the bathroom door and ran along the corridor wall towards the bedroom.
'Sophie?! Sammy?!'
The shrillness of her own voice shocked her.
No one answered.
Jane wanted to run but her feet were heavy. She moved forward as if wading through a swamp. A vice grip was tightening around her chest. The only sounds were her own belaboured breathing and her high heels on the tiles.
She came to the bathroom door after what felt like days. The white porcelain of the sink was a mess of pink and red with blue gel accents, like some grotesque Jackson Pollock forgery.
Tears were stinging her eyes. She followed the red smear along the wall. She saw it was made by a small hand. The bloody hand had pulled a family photo off its nail. The photo featured the quintessential family holiday in the sun. Beaming faces laughed through the cracked and bloodied glass.
A faint, almost ethereal voice turned Jane into a statue. She was only a few steps away from the bedroom. The door was open. Looming. The vice was crushing her lungs.
'Tee-ga Tee-ga Looo...'
'S-S-Se-Sophie?'
'Tee-ga Tee-ga Booo...' 
Jane struggled deeper into the swamp. It felt as though the thick mud was up to her thighs. She reached the doorway.
'All we ask is whooo...'
Another step. Jane almost tripped on her son's favourite toy. It was some character from a kids TV show. She couldn't remember the name. It was covered in blood and there was a tooth lying next to it.
She saw Sophie.
'S-So-Soaf?'
The girl was sitting on the carpet at the foot of the bed, and was staring straight into Jane's eyes. Strands of blood-and-sweat-drenched hair was matted to her forehead. Her mouth hung open and bled onto her shirt.
'Is he not me and youuu...'
The girl's mouth wasn't moving, yet Jane heard her daughter's voice.
'Wh-What...' Jane tried to ask but couldn't find her thoughts.
She rounded the bed. She saw Sammy lying on his back. His throat was slit. His blood had pooled on his little chest. The girl was sitting with his head between her knees. Harry's cutthroat razor was on her lap. The mixture of shock, confusion and despair that throbbed itself through Jane's body was soon overwhelmed by an intoxicating blend of release and mesmerization.
The girl's eyes kept staring. Her twisted expression didn't change. Jane was getting lost in those immense pupils. Those expanding pales of oil in which she wanted to be drowned.
Jane fell to her knees, fully immersed in the dark rhythm of her own insanity.
'Tee-ga Tee-ga Looo... Tee-ga Tee-ga Booo... All we ask is whooo... Is he not me and youuu... Tee-ga Tee-ga Booo... Tee-ga Tee-ga Looo... He whispers then we dooo... Can you hear him tooo...?'