Page 23 of Peep

Chapter 23

Anders

I know what Jahmar has to do today is inscrutable. Facing the person who must have violated him in the cruelest way possible will challenge him in more ways than I can imagine. His idea of justice may be unethical and somewhat sadistic, yet I feel immensely proud of him for taking back his power.

I want to know who hurt him, but Jahmar’s holding those cards close to his chest, and I refuse to force his hand. In some ways, it’s probably best that I don’t know the harrowing details. Because if I did, I’d want to hunt them down and inflict slow torture.

This isn’t my battle to fight, though. I have to sit back and allow him to find closure, and if it comes from chopping the guys’ balls off, so be it; he has my full support.

It’s wild to me that I ever feared Jahmar. He’s sweet and funny. Affectionate and kind. He’s the fucking sun and moon combined.

That sinister smile he wore so well has transformed into a genuine one, and I’m making it my mission to keep it there. I can already imagine our lives merging seamlessly and becoming one.

I want to reach into his wardrobe and see my shirts hanging alongside his.

I want to pick up his socks and complain like a little bitch about it.

I want him to tease me when I ruin dinner because of the lack of seasoning.

I want to have lazy morning sex where neither of us really tries, but it’s perfect nevertheless.

I want to read his stupid annotations in his smutty vampire books and leave replies.

I want to love him wholly through the mundane and magical moments.

I want it all with him.

I’m rushed with a flood of earth-altering emotions. This is no longer a game of cat and mouse—I’m in love with him.

The overwhelming urge to tell him exactly how I feel makes every cell in my body buzz. Blood pumps faster through my veins than ever, and the need to be in his enchanting presence is all-encompassing.

Chances are he’s with his last patient right now. Maybe I should’ve been there with Jahmar tonight. I asked, but he insisted he’d do it alone. Would he mind me watching? He’s never had an issue with it before. Seeing the sick fuck that hurt my man might settle something in me, too. Knowing who to punch in the gut if I ever see him in public would be comforting.

I’m working alone tonight as Femi’s on holiday for a few days. It’s eerily quiet in reception; the only sound is the howl of the wind as autumn takes over. Crispy leaves float past the windows and dance in the bitter air. It’s peaceful but also mildly unsettling—like a storm is brewing.

Pulling my phone out and opening up Jay’s camera feed, trepidation makes my jaw clench. I have to know who hurt him. I click on his feed before I can change my mind.

My world stops.

A thousand blunt knives gouge at my heart until it’s a mushy pile of bloody muscle.

My brother , my own flesh and blood, lays there unconscious. And the man I’m undoubtedly in love with is about to mutilate him.

The colour drains from my face, and my guts twist into painful knots.

There must be a mistake.

Shoving out of my seat and knocking it over in the process, I dart from reception. Once I reach the lift door, I slam my finger against the button at least ten times, as if it’ll make the doors open sooner. Blood rushes my ears, and my head spins from standing up so quickly. I need to get up there before I pass out.

Chris wouldn’t. He can’t be the one who raped and ruined Jahmar’s life. It’s not possible. Chris is a good fucking person, an amazing brother, and one of my best friends.

Please don’t let this be true.

As soon as the doors open, I barrel into the lift and slam the keypad for Jahmar’s floor. I pace the impossibly small space, panting and swiping tears that freefall down my ashen face. My dinner tumbles around my stomach as I imagine what happened between Jahmar and my brother. Sickening images flash through my fragile psyche.

The urge to slam my fist against the mirror builds as the floors tick by slower than ever. The doors ping open, and I go to step out, only to realise I’m on the wrong fucking floor.

“Oh, hi, are you ok?” A tenant I can’t remember the name of attempts to step in the lift.

“No, fuck off. Take another lift,” I snap, slamming the keypad again.

He looks bewildered, taking a large step back, hands raised like I’m a wild beast getting ready to attack.

I couldn’t give a fuck, let him complain to my boss. Nothing is more important than getting into Jahmar’s apartment and stopping what’s about to happen.

Should I even be trying to stop it?

If my brother did those heinous things, surely he deserves this…but he’s my brother. He’s loved and protected me my whole life. To my knowledge, he’s never even punched anyone.

Once I’m on Jahmar’s floor, I sprint towards his apartment, each heavy slam of my feet echoing through the empty hallway.

I don’t even knock, fishing for my master keys. The door flies open, and I almost trip over a pair of boots in the entrance.

A scalpel glistens in Jahmar’s trembling hand.

“Stop!”

Jahmar

Anders flies at me, slapping the instrument out of my hand.

“Stop, don’t. Please,” Anders blubbers, his whole body violently shaking.

“What do you mean stop? I have to. He’s the last one.”

I yank my mask down and approach Anders, but he backs off.

“You just have to stop, ok?”

Anders’ eyes dart to Chris’ unconscious body, and he slams his hand over his mouth to smother his sob.

“Anders, what the fuck is going on? Who is he to you?”

He goes to speak, then shakes his head, tears flooding his blotchy cheeks.

I slowly approach him, treating him like a feral cat and softening my voice, “Sweetheart, please, talk to me. Tell me who he is?”

When I reach Anders, he’s backed up against the wall. I whip off the latex gloves and grasp either side of his face. He tries to shove me away. I wrestle with him, pushing him against the wall until he’s trapped with his hands pinned over his head.

I slam my lips against his in a weak attempt to sedate him. His face flips to the side, rejecting me. He continues battling against my hold as frustrated tears pour from him. I pull back, unable to bear the anguish pulsing from him. Nothing but pure sorrow and heartache swim in his ocean eyes.

“Tell me, Anders.”

Painful silence hangs in the air, filling me with more dread.

“He’s my brother,” he says just above a whisper.

My hands fall from his wrists, and I stumble back, heels colliding with the end of the bed.

“Wh-what did you say?”

“Chris, he’s my brother.”

The weight of a thousand rocks lands in my stomach, and my heart batters my chest.

“No, you’re lying. That can’t be true. He doesn’t even have the same last name. You’re nothing alike.”

“He’s my half brother, we have different dads.”

I look at the man who raped me, and like a fucked-up puzzle, it all suddenly slots together. It’s subtle, but some of their features are similar. Anders said he had a much older brother in medicine. Why the fuck didn’t I ask his name? Instead, I rambled on about my family and their medical jobs. If I had just asked his name.

This doesn’t change anything, though. Even Anders said I need closure and told me to do this. He wouldn’t take that from me.

“Jay, please. Talk to me.”

I flinch as he reaches for me. “Don’t touch me; let me think,” I snap, pacing the small area in front of the bed.

“Think? What is there to think about? You can’t go ahead with this.” Anders frantically shakes his head.

He may as well have reached inside my chest, pulled out my heart and spat on it. That would’ve been less painful than what he’s asking of me.

“I have to.”

“No, Jay, please. Let me speak to him first. Find out why he did it?”

“Find out why he did it!?” I roar, shoving Anders across the room. He slides down the wall until he lands on his arse, sobbing into his palms.

“He did it because he’s an evil bastard. He fucking raped me! He’s lucky I don’t slit his fucking throat. I wanted to, you know. I wanted to take my fucking scalpel and drain him of blood because he’s fucking sick!”

Anders cries abruptly stop, and his eyes pop with a new sense of determination that terrifies me. “You wouldn’t.”

“I fucking should!” I scan the room for the scalpel. I spot it about a metre from Anders’ foot, shiny and bright, just desperate to slice into Chris’ disgusting skin.

Anders tracks my eyes as we both leap for it. He reaches it before me and scrambles back against the wall, scalpel in hand like he might actually use it on me.

“No, please, Jay, I’m begging you. Don’t make me choose. Let me speak to him.”

I grab his ankle and drag him to me until I’m straddling his waist. He stretches his arm above his head so I can’t reach it. The last thing I want to do is hurt him, but I will. He won’t stop me from getting the revenge I deserve.

Leaning over him and grabbing his wrist, I slam his hand against the floor, but he refuses to loosen his grip.

“Fucking let go!”

“No, you’ll kill him,” he grunts as we wrestle.

His knee slams into my stomach, winding me and stealing my breath. Anders manages to slip from underneath me while I work through the pain.

This needs to stop.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a needle. Anders tries to crawl towards his brother; I drag him back, grabbing his shoulder and twisting him around until he’s underneath me again.

One hand comes to his throat. I pull the cap off the needle with my teeth and spit it out before stabbing him in the meaty part of his arm.

Anders gasps, and the torment that flashes through his eyes split me in two. The parts of me bound to him dissolve into nothing with our equal betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” I pant, watching him slowly slip away.

“I’ll never forgive you if you go through with this,” he slurs, eyes flickering as he tries to hold on.

I cradle his body as he slumps to the floor. After pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to his forehead, I admit, “That’s a tragedy, little lion, because I’m desperately in love with you, and you’re breaking my heart.”