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Into the smaller room.
He gave in then.
They left him with no choice.
With one arm, I throw William across the foyer, his back and head hitting the stone floor, his body sliding from the force.
I’m on top of him. This moment coming to me like the nightmares.
Images without continuity.
Sounds that are as soft and fleeting as echoes.
Laughter.
I’m straddling his body, my hand over his throat again, my fingers crushing down, and still, he tries to laugh.
Lifting his body up by his throat, I slam him down. The back of his head bounces on the stone, a grunt barely escaping his mouth. Four, maybe five times, I do it again until I see a small line of blood follow the grout in the tile, my eyes locked on the crimson color.
It’s just a little blood…
My hands are covered in it.
Stop crying…
William’s eyes are glazed, and I hate that they’re the same color as mine. I punch him once, twice, over and fucking over until his cheekbones are cracking, his orbital bones collapsing in.
It’s not enough.
I want this face out of my head.
It’s been following me for as long as I can remember.
My fist collides against him, blood bursting from his nose, his skull cracking beneath the skin. I don’t want to see this face ever again.
His body slumps beneath me, yet I keep going. Unable to stop until the face is unrecognizable.
Standing up, I hold my hand up to see the blood all over it, dripping.
So much blood…
Be a man…
My boot slams into his fat stomach, but his body doesn’t curl over to protect itself like mine did. He’s dead weight. Unmoving. Blood now sprayed across my floors, running in tiny rivulets until pooling.
So much blood…
My brother’s and mine…
But who would know the difference?
We share identical DNA.
Blood spurts from what’s left of his mouth as I keep kicking. I stomp on his neck. On his head. On his arms to hear the bones break. On his fingers to destroy the hands that held me still.
He’s dead, but I can’t stop fighting.
He’s dead.
