Chapter Ten
I would have said the warm water died out hours ago, but I knew better than that. The truth was, it would take more than a hot shower to warm a cadaver. Even with my legs tangled with Lilah’s I wasn’t able to find an ounce of peace, and it was a naive hope that dragged me to the bathroom. If the clock on the wall was to be trusted, I’d been standing under its warmth for 45 minutes, and still, my neck wouldn’t unkink.
Maybe there really is no rest for the wicked.
The light of dawn would signal the fourth day of my brother’s disappearance. After he bloodied my face, he’d vanished without a word. There was no knowing where he was, what evil he’d been steeping in, who he was burying himself beside at night. If I could know exactly what was happening in Toby’s life, my brother’s manic patterns would be nearly impossible to predict— except, of course, that we were headed for a nosedive. The air always felt the same when we approached those awful turns, like graveyard dirt and soot. If Toby was gone, there’d be no way for me to stop this. If Toby was gone, there’d be no way for me to curb that awful hunger.
If he followed his pattern, Lilah would only have hours once Toby returned.
Then, I’d bury the woman I loved next to the women I barely knew.
I wanted to be angry when the creak of a door filled the room. I wanted to feel a spark of something, anything, to remind me there was still something left in my chest. Instead, all I felt was the cold. The water cooled as the tiny rabbit slipped into the room, and my stomach churned painfully.
There was nowhere I’d be safe from her anymore.
There wasn’t a room in that house that wasn’t filled with guilt.
“What?”
The hollow bite didn’t force her to recoil. It didn’t force her to much of anything. Lilah’s lips wouldn’t budge as she watched me through the semi-transparent shower curtain. It would only take her a moment to suck the rest of the courage from the room, for her to peek so shyly behind the curtain to make sure I was the man who she had made love to just hours before. I wouldn’t have the strength to look back at her, to watch that small smile she wore to try to relax me. I was too worried I’d try to drown myself in the fucking shower if I saw it fall— and it would fall.
That was the worst of it all.
“You okay?”
Annoyance wouldn’t come— not with a bark or a bite. Dark awareness had yanked my canines, and when it was difficult to do much more than breathe, I tried to divert my attention. My fingers were numb by the time I groped out for the shampoo bottle, and I wouldn’t jerk it back up to my torso before I was certain I was actually holding it. Squirting a new handful into my palm offered about the same amount of peace it had the first four times I’d washed my hair that day.
Time was already an impossible thing for me to grasp. With Lilah near, the damn thing slipped through my fingers entirely. Whether she’d been trapped here a week or a month, all I was really sure of was the fact that Lilah had, somehow, learned to read me better than my own brother. When she knew an answer wouldn’t come, she didn’t push. The brunette took her place on the edge of the tub, legs crossing as she waited so patiently for me to become human.
If I were braver, I’d admit to her how much of myself I saw in Lilah.
If I were braver, I’d warn her.
She still thinks it’s noble to stand by someone. She hasn’t lost enough yet.
“Is he normally gone this long?”
When my breath caught in my lungs, I let it fill me with some kind of reassurance. The water prickled against my frozen face as I washed the suds from my hair, and when a breath still wouldn’t come, I finally summoned the pain that reminded me I was alive. My heart banged against my ribs, and finally, I sucked back the air I still needed. It was only then that I would glance back at her, that I would catch the way her eyes snapped forward when she was caught.
“Not when things are good.”
If she knew my brother half as well as she knew me, she wouldn’t need much more of an answer than that. Lilah was, probably, the only person in the world who knew Toby as well as I did— a thought the masochist inside me just reveled in. My attention turned forward, but as my hands rubbed over my face, a sense of cleanliness wouldn’t come. Would take a can of gasoline and a match to cure that, I decided.
The sickness wouldn’t really hit until Lilah stood from her position. There was the slightest hope that she’d be smart enough to leave, but as I watched her pull my old t-shirt over her head, even that hope was strangled. I wouldn’t speak when she climbed into the shower behind me, wouldn’t twitch when I felt her icy hands pressing into my back. By the time I’d finally summoned the strength to snap at her, Lilah had already moved on to the most disturbing thing she was capable of— putting hope in the bones of the hopeless. Her hands were filled with soap before I could register what was happening, and when her hands finally started to massage gentle circles into my marble back, I wasn’t capable of human sounds anymore.
Numbed skin made her touch nearly impossible to feel, but it was there.
For a moment, I’d found a semblance of peace— a sensation so strong it snapped my eyes shut.
My hand had to press against the tiled wall to keep me upright, my head dropping as I stretched the back of my neck. Lilah’s thumbs rubbed circles into my pained lower back, and I was certain I had snarled for her to press harder. Small hands worked along every kink along my spine, moving up to my shoulders with a type of concentration I didn’t think I’d ever be able to emulate. I hated how foreign the act had become, how those rotting walls made kindness unrecognizable. If it were anyone else, I would have accused them of trying to pit my brother and I against one another. When her hands worked to squeeze my shoulders, it was impossible to think that were true. There wasn’t a violent bone in Lilah’s body— despite working so hard to put one there.
“If I could make him not want me anymore,” she started, her voice cracking within the quiet. “That’s what I’d do.” The statement caused another knock on my chest, painful enough to snap my eyes open. “I don’t want you to pick between him and me.”
“I’m not the hero here, Lilah.”
Her silence only brought another wave of sickness, another wash of guilt. Every ounce of faith she had in me only served to remind me of the lie I’d been letting her hold on to. At first, I had convinced myself that it didn’t matter whether Lilah knew how involved in her kidnapping I was, that Toby would have his way with her and then this would be over. Now, we’d gone too far to ever look back. Lilah would hate me if she knew how okay I was with this entire fucked up mess— before it actually happened, at least.
It was about a debt more than anything. If we were going to die, she had a right to know the truth before that. I didn’t want to owe her anything when I left this world, and it was that debt that parted my lips, that turned me to face her. It was a disgusting grace that snapped them shut again. I couldn’t embrace her back when Lilah wrapped her arms around me, when her dry cheek nuzzled against my soaked chest. Not when the smell of my shampoo was so alive in her hair, at least. That left me carved in stone.
“We should have met in the real world.”
Another painful crack, another awful convulsion in my chest. My jaw tightened, and finally, pain lent my arms the strength they needed to wrap around her. My nose buried itself in her soft hair, and I gave her the coo neither of us wanted to hear.
“I think it’s too late for that.”
When her grip around me tightened, I couldn’t help but nuzzle closer. Her hands gripped my hardened back, and for a final time, I allowed my fingers to tangle in her hair. When dawn came, I was certain I’d never have another chance to touch her, to feel her, to tell her the truth that might save her.
“Lilah, I—”
“I’m going to figure something out.” Her arms around me gave a reassuring squeeze, and while the statement had frozen me completely, it seemed to warm her up. Lilah’s nose brushed aga
inst my chest on her way to glance up to me, her smile feeding my conscience. “You don’t have to pick. I’ll figure something out, okay?”
I decided, for a moment, that it would be okay to lie to her again. It would be okay to tell her that things would be okay, to hold her a little longer, to squeeze her a little tighter. If I only had one last chance to lie to her, maybe I should let Lilah live in that world a little longer.
It wouldn’t be that simple.
Not when I’d already made my choice.
* * *
I hated the familiarity this darkness seemed to breed. I hadn’t really awoken from my place in the living room until the mutt climbed onto the couch next to me, his solemn look impossible to scold. Years ago, I had learned not to trust comforts. The tiniest specks of light can feel like heaven when you’ve been wandering through the further long enough. Logic dictated that I wasn’t truly happy when I laid in bed beside Lilah, wasn’t truly feeling complete when I tasted her, wasn’t home when I felt her warmth. Reason whispered that I was just grabbing at straws when I found such peace with a filthy four-legged creature, but then, hope never had much of a brain.
Maybe I was just growing soft, growing weak, growing old.
Maybe I’d just found a place to call home, a place that had never made much sense anyway.
As my hand landed on the dog’s skull, my head lolled to the side. From the kitchen door, my younger brother stumbled back into the house after a four-day disappearance. Even from my place in the living room, I could smell the reek of alcohol on his body, the familiar smoke of an eight-ball still kissing his clothes. The sound of his phone dropping on top of the table echoed through an otherwise empty house, and as the sound of Lilah’s footsteps shifted the boards above our heads, Toby’s attention shifted. Distant eyes remained trained on the ceiling, but need drove him towards the fridge, pulled him to the cold beers his anxiety needed the most.
“Bring enough for the whole class.”
My scratch finally earned a glance in my direction, but the ghost of my brother hardly seemed to recognize me in its current state. The man snatched another bottle from the fridge before stumbling towards the living room, a silent wave of relief rushing through me when he avoided the staircase. My attention drew to the dog at my side as Toby took his place on the recliner to my right, slamming my drink on the coffee table before finally relaxing into his seat.
It shouldn’t have made me feel at home, really. The entire mess should have sickened me, but my body was past listening to me at this point. I was too pathetic to do much more than cling to memories, cling to Lilah, cling to a time when I felt alive. Toby and I hadn’t sat together in a room and shared anything other than a fist fight in nearly two years. The last time we sat, relaxed out on those couches, would have been the night after we moved in. The night before our bones started to rot with this disgusting foundation.
“Been a while since we did this.”
When Toby shrugged, focused on the blank TV, my vision blurred. With proper focus and enough desperation, I could see the way he looked that day. Something awful had been playing on the TV, some comedy movie Toby had picked out. Boxes were scattered along the floor, and his laughter seemed to fill the room. I yelled at him for putting his muddied boots on the table, for not helping me clean more, but for a moment, things were okay.
Funny how the moments you took for granted always seemed to be the ones you thought of most.
“I guess.”
With a nod of my head, I turned to look at our reflections. Toby wouldn’t notice the questions crawling over my skin, but it was impossible to hide much from my own eyes. The darkness of the TV couldn’t conceal the way my features twisted in pain, in confusion, in regret.
Taking a sip of my beer, I leaned forward and gave the mutt one last ounce of attention. “Lilah thinks Mom is dead.”
“She is.”
The answer came so simply that I’d almost believed it. If I hadn’t been so busy burning weekly letters from her, I might have been able to buy his bullshit story. Being dead was not quite the same thing as being dead to someone— a difference his ego wouldn’t let him understand anymore. Toby hadn’t seen our mother in years, refused to see her while she was still sick. He was hoping, I’d think, for the woman from his memories to pop up, for mom to get better and welcome him back in a warm embrace. I’d never have the courage to tell Toby that that wasn’t how it worked anymore. The woman he remembered was a narcissist too. As kids, it was just harder to see.
Relaxing back in my seat, I let out a snarl of frustration. The only thing to keep me centered was my arm protectively over the dog curling into my side, the sensation of his beating heart beneath my palm.
Toby sucked back another mouthful, a satisfying chuckle leaving his lips when he relaxed further into his seat. “When’d things get so fucked up, Al?”
I shrugged. “Felony kidnapping probably didn’t help.”
“Fuck you.”
A single bite, a single moment, a single memory to add to my guilt. His grin reminded me that the monster Toby had become was still just an iteration of my brother, was still just the boy I used to make pancakes every morning, every night. A heavy heart wouldn’t let me return the grin, and when the quiet took over the room, all that was left was a pathetic attempt at honesty.
“Doesn’t have to be this way, Tobe,” I noted, my voice as even as I could manage. “She’s a good woman.” The statement perked Toby’s ears, but with my attention on the dog in my lap, I wouldn’t give him the kindling he needed. “If you asked her not to say anything, I doubt she’d even file a police report.”
“Yes, she would.” This time, there was no bite to Toby, no bitterness. His fear had attached itself to his bones, and those whispers in the back of his head were impossible to untangle from thoughts. To Toby, there was no way out. “They’re all the same.”
I wouldn’t let my frustration spike. These depressive episodes always came after a big high, and another would surely be trailing behind. These quiet moments were the only real chances I had to get through to the boy I used to love, and if I was going to take a drastic action, now would be the time.
At least with no one around, I’d be able to knock him on his ass if he tried to come at me.
“I’ve always taken care of you,” I reminded him, finally summoning the strength to look at the creature perched on the recliner. “I’m always going to take care of you, Toby. If you want out of this, then just say it.”
His brow furrowed, and a spark of anger flashed through his bright eyes. Why had it become so easy for me to push things too far, to fuck everything up?
“Why the fuck would I want out of this?” I relaxed back in my seat, refusing to puff my chest the way he craved. Another fight would only push him further away. Though, my perceived submission only brought another growl, another dark chuckle, another wave of his hand. “I’ve got a beautiful woman upstairs and Jax is offering us more money than I know what to fuckin’ do with.”
For once, I felt my control slip. The sickness, the worry, the dread wouldn’t let me stay so docile forever, and the doubtful look was impossible to hide. My head rolled to the side, and for a moment, embarrassment stiffened his lip. The truth was, we both knew exactly what he intended on doing with that money, didn’t we? If this thing comes through, if Jax delivers, the cash would be up his fuckin’ nose by Friday, and I’d be planning his funeral just hours later.
An early grave was all my love knew how to bring.
For Toby and for Lilah.
The crunch of gravel was the only thing to pull us apart. Though, I’m certain my pathetic inability to accept reality played a hand. When the heavy footsteps climbed our broken front porch, Toby jerked into action and I jerked back towards the only real ally I had in the room. My hand landed on the dog’s head as Jax tore through our front door, and when the pup remained calm, I felt a twinge of doubt. If it had any brain at all, it would have known better than to trust some asshole
like me to keep it safe from Jax. My moral compass hadn’t pointed north for the better half of a decade.
“You don’t pick up a fuckin’ phone?”
I waved my hand thoughtlessly through the air, and Jax’s hiss only brought a smile to my face.
“Fuckin’ thing died,” Toby grumbled, but I wouldn’t let the lie perk my ears. “The hell’s got you so pissy anyway?”
The duffle bag dropped to the coffee table with a dull thud, and instinctively, I jolted in my seat. My knees shifted, as though that was going to protect the dog from hell fire, and I shot Jax a dangerous look. Just because the thing was deactivated didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. A few wrong moves and we’d all be in early graves.
“50-grand for this shit? This a fuckin’ joke to you?” When the realization dawned on me, I relaxed back into my seat, arms spread across the back of the couch and eyes never leaving the threat. Jax looked fucking livid. “Jarrod said it’s not even hooked up and the detonator’s missing.”
“Well, isn’t Jarrod worth his weight in gold?” The guilt didn’t wash until I noticed the tenseness I’d set across the room. My eyes drew down to the pup when I needed the extra strength— something that left me feeling even weaker. “You got what you wanted. This thing is real enough to buy you a good hour from the cops.”
“I bought a bomb.”
“I gave you a bomb.”
“You gave me fuckin’ garbage!”
His shout seemed to rattle the house, but with a firm frame, I wouldn’t let him shake me. I shifted to make the pup in my lap more comfortable, but when even the mutt’s eyes were glued to Jax, I had to lift my head. His face had darkened impossibly so, sullen cheeks a reminder that my decision to save the farm may have cost me the house. Jax was already unstable, and with my brother attached to him like a fuckin’ tick, I’d have to be careful how far I pushed this.
The Kidnapper's Brother: A Dark Criminal Romance Page 11