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“You’re wrong, brother! I want you to know my pain before I kill you!”
“No, wait! I’m putting myluparadown!” Franco set down his rifle and raised his hands. “Look!”
“You always carry a pistol in your waistband!”
“Not this time! Look, none!” Franco turned around. “Shoot me, Robo!”
“Franco, you would really die for her?” Roberto asked, incredulous.
Franco’s gaze found Violetta’s, sharing her terror. “Yes!”
Violetta lowered her head, beginning to pray.
Franco fell to his knees, pleading. “Take me instead.”
Roberto eyed him. Neither brother took a breath. Silence fell, except for Violetta’s whispered Latin, and Franco knew his twin was making his choice.
“Roberto, I’m on my knees, begging you. You win.”
“I have no choice.” Roberto raised his gun and shot Violetta. The bullet hit her squarely in the chest. Her nightgown exploded in blood and tattered muslin. Her hands flew up reflexively.
“Violetta!” Franco ran to her, but she fell backward off the cliff, her arms outstretched and her nightgown flapping like the wings of an angel.
Roberto ran toward Franco, tossing his gun aside. Franco whirled around and charged Roberto. The twins collided in the courtyard, their identical faces red with primal fury. Each brother knew the other’s moves, the roughhousing of their boyhood turned lethal. They were evenly matched, each as strong as the other.
“I’ll kill you!” Franco grabbed Roberto by the leg, trying to pull him down.
“I’ll killyou!” Roberto thwarted him, wrenching Franco’s arm backward. He pulled Franco to the ground, and they fell wrestling to the stones.
Roberto punched Franco in the chin. Franco’s head rocked backward but he jabbed Roberto’s temple. Roberto flew off balance, stunned. Franco looked for his gun, but it was too far away. The twins grappled back and forth, rolling on the gritty floor.
“Franco, you lied to me! You killed my wife! You betrayed me!”
Franco didn’t reply, conserving his energy. The twins punched, kicked, and wrestled, grunting with effort and rage. Franco realized they were nearing the edge where Violetta had fallen. He grabbed Roberto by the shoulders, trying to roll him there. Roberto headbutted him, leaving him reeling.
“I hate you!” Roberto’s eyes filled with enraged tears. Emotion distracted him. His grip loosened just the slightest.
Franco recovered, seizing his chance. He gripped Roberto’s throat and scrambled on top of him. He squeezed his brother’s neck as hard as he could, trying to strangle him.
Roberto’s face reddened with pain and anguish. The veins on hisforehead bulged with blood. He clawed Franco’s hands and pried off one of his fingers. It wasn’t enough.
Franco squeezed harder. He would never forgive Roberto for killing Violetta. Roberto had to die, and Franco had to kill him.
“Franco?” Roberto eked out, guttural. He flailed at Franco’s arms. His blows lacked force. He tried to scratch Franco’s face. He was too weak.
Franco kept squeezing, emitting an agonized sound he didn’t recognize as his own.
Roberto’s eyes jittered side to side, frantic. He tried to move his head to say no.
Franco could feel his brother’s warm flesh under his palms. He watched his twin’s eyes until they stilled gazing into his own.
Roberto’s hands dropped to the side. His big chest ceased moving.
Franco released him with a grunt. He fell back on his haunches in horror. His chest heaved. His breaths were ragged. He couldn’t believe what he had done.
He looked at Roberto’s face and saw his own, in death. He had killed the brother with whom he had started life, in the same womb. He had strangled his twin, destroying his other self.
“Robo?” Franco whispered, like he used to at night, in their childhood bed.
