Page 24

Chapter 24

Anders

S lipping back into consciousness, my head spins as bile sits in the back of my throat. I rub my cloudy eyes with my knuckles to bring them back into focus. Grisly memories flood me.

Seeing my brother on the camera feed. Jahmar getting ready to operate. Telling him that Chris is my brother. Jahmar saying he could kill him. Grabbing the scalpel, fighting, indescribable fear, Jahmar drugging me. Jahmar telling me he’s in love with me.

My body shoots up from the bed, and dizziness blankets me. I squeeze the duvet between my trembling fists as if it will stop me from swaying. The room is spotless; not a medical instrument is in sight, and the only sound is my wild breaths.

They’re gone.

Overwhelmed with the need to be sick, I force myself up and stumble to the ensuite, crash to my knees, and empty my stomach. Once I stop heaving, I lift my weak wrist to check my watch. It’s 6:30 a.m. I’ve been out cold for hours. God knows what has happened during that lost time.

An influx of questions batter my fragile mind. Did Jahmar hurt my brother? Did he kill him? Should I have let Jahmar do it? Is Chris not who I thought he was?

Deep, gut-punching regret has me clutching my stomach. I shouldn’t have fought him. I should’ve asked Jahmar what happened and tried to understand. But I couldn’t think straight. Everything I had ever known and loved about my brother turned to ash.

I hate him for what he’s done; he’s destroyed everything and taken away my chance at love. Despite how utterly disgusted and ashamed of him I am, that doesn’t mean I want him to die. What if I’m too late?

Shoving to my feet off the icy tiles, I lean my head under the tap and glug mouthfuls of water, washing away the bitter aftertaste of sick.

I search for my phone, find it on the bedside table and call both of them three times without an answer.

“For fuck’s sake,” I yell, chucking my phone, instantly regretting it when it bounces off the wall and I notice the screen is cracked right down the middle.

I scrabble for it, shove on my shoes and jacket Jahmar must’ve taken off me and scour the apartment for any clue of their fate.

I need Jahmar back; I need him to let me love him. But more than that, and as twisted as it may seem, I need my brother to not be dead. At least not until I’ve looked him in the eye and he confesses what he’s done.

My car pulls up to my brother’s lavish home, which is perfect on the outside, but as I’m now aware, full of rot on the inside.

I want this not to be true and for it to be some kind of psychotic break because that would be kinder than living in this sombre reality.

The man I’ve fallen in love with was raped by my brother—my brother who could be dead right now. Mental images of his cold corpse oozing blood from a perfect slit along his throat assault me.

I run to the front door, wrapping my hand around the extravagant gold knocker and slam it against the door once, twice, three times. Nothing.

“Chris, open the fucking door!” I shout, not giving a flying fuck about his snooty neighbours.

I slam to my knees, pain shoots through them, then I flick the letterbox and call through the opening. “Are you in there!?”

The sound of heavy footsteps stumbling down the stairs makes me tense. I have no idea who I want it to be.

Scrambling to my feet as the door flies open, all the air leaves my body in a rush.

“Chris, you’re alive?” My voice quakes, and my heart punches my chest.

For a split moment, I’m relieved, and then I feel sick, angry and disgusted.

“Quick, get inside. You’ll wake the whole street up,” he hisses, dragging me by the shoulder and shoving me into the living room.

I fall backwards onto the plush leather sofa. I’m frozen in place. On my drive over, I planned many things I’d say if he were alive, but now it feels like the words are lodged in my throat, threatening to choke me.

My brother paces in front of me, eyes closed, rubbing his brow.

“Chris?” I murmur, almost too quietly for him to hear.

“Fuck, I feel sick,” he grumbles, collapsing in the armchair opposite me, closing his eyes and sucking in deep breaths, which I can only assume is to stop himself from throwing up. He repositions himself, hissing in pain while readjusting his crotch. Did Jahmar go through with it?

“Why are you here at the arse crack of dawn?”

“You know why I’m here,” I manage to force out through gritted teeth.

I twine my fingers on my lap to stop them from rattling.

“I don’t. I—” Chris’ words cut off, his eyes shift like he’s conjuring up a lie. “I had a lot to drink last night after work. I can barely remember making my way home, so excuse my bluntness.”

His eyes stay glued to mine as he effortlessly lies, a well-practised smile in place.

“Cut the bullshit, Chris, I know everything. You were taken last night by someone whose life you fucking destroyed.”

“What?” He sits forward in his chair, failing to hide his wince. “I have no clue what you’re on about. Have you taken something? You can tell me, little bro. I won’t judge.”

I scoff, climbing to my feet. “Jahmar fucking Walker, you sick fuck!” I scream in his face.

Chris’ face falls, and his eye twitches.

“Bet that name rings a bell, doesn’t it!?”

“Keep your fucking voice down,” he snaps, jumping to his feet and towering over me. “Is that who took me? He’s a fucking liar, I’ve never touched him.”

“Stop fucking lying! If you care about me and want to salvage this relationship, you’ll tell me the truth.” There’s nothing to salvage here; I just need to hear him admit it.

Chris aggressively runs hands through his dishevelled hair. “There’s nothing to tell. He used to be a resident in my department. He wanted to get ahead and thought offering his arse would do that. I turned him down.”

Sick gathers in my throat, but I shove it down. How can he lie so easily? I clench my fists because if I don’t I’m not sure if I could stop myself from wrapping them around his neck. Taking a step back, I turn away from him. I can’t stand to look at him anymore.

“Chris, tell me the fucking truth, I need to know.”

“Why? How do you even know Jahmar? Why does it matter?”

I grit my teeth to stop myself from tearing his face to pieces. I just need him to confess.

“It just does, ok! Chris, fucking tell me. Did you rape him?”

Holding my breath as I wait for the answer, an answer that will destroy my family as I know it.

“Is it really rape? It’s not like he told me to stop. He wanted it.”

Lead lands in my stomach. A wave of fury distorts my mind, edging me closer to snapping completely.

“He fucking mutilated me! He won’t get away with what he’s done. I’ll make him pay,” Chris spits.

My resolve snaps. Twisting on my feet, I pull my arm back and swing for my brother. My knuckle cracks against his nose, making it pop. Blood floods his face instantly, painting his white shirt crimson.

Chris collapses back on the armchair, eyes wide and gasping. He tips his head back and pinches his nose, trying to stop the downpour, but I need to inflict more pain.

I lunge for him again, but he shields his face and starts rambling. “Anders, please. I can explain. I wasn’t well mentally at the time. The stress from work. You have to understand.”

He’s disorientated from the punch, so his weak attempt at holding me off quickly fails. I climb over him, wrap my hands around his throat and dig my knee into his groin.

Chris wails in pain as I grind my knee into his surgery wounds, the sound of his suffering feeding my fury.

“No!” I shout into his face. “There’s no fucking excuse good enough for what you did. You have no idea the damage you’ve caused! You deserve everything you got and more!”

His face reddens and his eyes bulge. The knee on his crotch incapacitating him. I squeeze tighter, my eyes not leaving his.

“Please,” he croaks, hands scratching at my wrists as I drain him of life.

Chris’ voice breaks, and all he can do is beg with his eyes for me to stop. Water swims in his eyes making them a shade lighter, reminding me of my mum’s.

“Fuck,” I growl, letting him go and stumbling back.

Chris splutters for air, clutching at his throat. I watch him in bewilderment. The past thirty seconds lost to me as I come back to my senses and resurface after my murderous rage.

“You tried to kill me,” he rasps, chest rapidly rising and falling.

I scoff. “Go ahead and report me, then. I’d love to see how you’d try to explain all of this.”

“Fuck you, Anders,” he bites back.

I shake my head at him in disgust. Turning on my heels, I head for the door, but he chases after me, stumbling over the corner of the rug.

“You’re not going to tell anyone? I’m your brother for fuck’s sake. I love you.” He grabs my shoulder, trying to hinder my retreat.

Swinging around to face him, I push him back until he falls on his arse. Chris’ body trembles. He’s never looked more pathetic.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me!”

“Are you going to tell anyone?”

I stare down at his battered face, feeling nothing but hate. It’s not my story to tell, it’s Jahmar’s. Chris doesn’t need to know that, though.

“If I ever find out you’ve preyed on anyone else, I won’t hesitate to go straight to the police and tell them what you’ve done.”

He looks up at me, bloody and broken, just like he deserves. I know for sure in this moment, we’re done. I no longer have a brother. They say blood is thicker than water, but what if the blood is laced with poison?

“Stay the fuck away from me, don’t call, don’t message. You’re dead to me, Chris.”