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Hana’s sharp gasp tore my attention from the throbbing in my cheek. Ignoring the looming bulk before me, I watched my wife struggle to sit up, grasping her stomach as pain rippled along her features.
“You don’t get to say my name. You are not even worthy of the air we breathe. Get the fuck gone.”
I’d never seen Joseph so menacing. He suddenly fisted my collar and jerked me from the bedside chair then shoved me toward the door. I stumbled out of the room without another word.
Before I got out of the hospital, I was stopped by the cops. They had some follow up questions concerning my brother’s death. Fuck my life.
Now, here I was. At home. Alone. Again. I didn’t want to go to jail, especially not because of my worthless brother’s death. Unfortunately, the cartel had not taken care of the body as I’d hoped. But, due to the nature surrounding Luke’s apparent suicide, the cops seemed to accept that he offed himself. After all, my brother was about to go to jail for child trafficking and for the murder of the baby that had been in Hana’s womb after he beat her within an inch of her life.
“Yes, we had fought,” I had confessed, “but when I’d left the warehouse, he was still alive. Maybe the cartel came for him after I had left.”
I figured if I said it enough times, maybe it would become my new truth.
Humans lied to themselves all the time—the lies we humans tell ourselves to make up for our shitty excuse of an existence. I’ve lied to myself on numerous occasions. I had made Luke out to be the sole villain in this story. But the reality was, I was a villain too. I was also the bad guy. I had also hurt Hana, but wrapped a pretty red bow around that pain, telling her and myself that I had been saving her from him.
But who would save her from me?
Joseph would.
Dark, vicious thoughts pass through my mind, and I shoot up from my seat and stumbled around a bit until I hit the lights. My eyes instinctively closed from the glare of the bright orbs above my head. Fuck. I hadn’t gotten this fucked up in a long time.
“You’re not a teenager anymore, Logan. When are you going to grow the hell up?”my dead twin’s voice fluttered across my mind.
As much as I wished I’d eaten Luke in the womb, we’d always had that stupid twin connection. Over the years, we tried to tamp down on our bond in the name of hate. We’d ignored each other when the other was in pain. The last time Luke had even acknowledged our connection was when I was so hungover that I had picked a fight with him then kicked him out of this very apartment.
Fuck! I didn’t want to think about that day.
Distracted by my vibrating phone, I look at the screen to see my mother’s face appear. I didn’t want to talk to her. My masochistic brain replays our last conversation, the one where I had to tell her that Luke was gone. Obviously, she hadn’t taken the news well.
“Ma,” I sighed into the phone.
“You can’t even greet your mother. When did you grow up with no manners?” she snapped.
I clenched my teeth telling myself I couldn’t lash out at her. Not when I had to tell her.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but something happened—”
“What did you do?” she cut in before I could finish.
“Why do you always assume I did something?” I hated how she treated me.
“Because you are trouble. I only expected to have one child, as you know. You were hiding behind your brother like a dirty secret. Sometimes I wish I had tried to abort you. And before you say anything about how harsh that is, you don’t understand what it’s like to have a strong black man like you as a son who then doesn’t aspire to do anything with his life. What will you leave your children?”
“Ma! Enough!” I roared into the receiver. “You want to know what I will leave my children? Nothing! Luke killed my unborn child then killed himself. Now you're down to only one son and a lifetime full of disappointment.” I hung up the phone before she started wailing.
I know now I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. But my mom knew all the ways to push my buttons. She always had. I was sick of being second best. Sick of her comparison. Sick of failing to meet her expectations.
The apartment was eerily quiet. I felt restless. The whisky had worn off the minute I thought of my mom.Fuck it.I chugged the last of this expensive alcohol and started thinking of ways to distract myself. Maybe it was best for me to head to a local bar and see if anyone would be willing to hear me spill my life story.
I grabbed my keys, even though I had no business driving, and headed out the door.
I didn’t get far.
I accidentally slammed into Joseph in my rush.
“Don’t fucking touch me, psycho,” he hissed in my ear before pushing me away.
The narrow hallway didn’t allow for much room to move so I stumbled into the wall. Instead of trying to right myself, I slumped down to the ground.
