suppose the same could be said of me.
“I came to visit once.”
I jerk my head up from where I was staring at the cat, fighting… tears.
Of anger.
Nothing else. If this fucking glass wasn’t in my way, I’d kill him.
“What?”
“Yeah, it’s what kind of made me spiral out of control.”
“You’re lying. Mom would have never let you leave. She would have welcomed you—”
“Tell me, Wayne. What do you remember of Mom?” he folds his hands in his lap. “I want to know. You were a kid. I’m a little older than you, remember? I think I know more.”
As much as I want to argue with him, he is right. Gritting my teeth until they might crack, I study the groove in the wood framing the window. Rings upon rings, which tell me the wood they used is older. It’s a beautiful piece of wood.
“You don’t remember much, do you? And what you do remember, I bet if you’re wondering if you’ve made it all up in your head. Listen, baby brother—”
“Don’t call me that. You don’t give a fuck about me being your brother.”
“I didn’t use to. I had a vendetta to grind, that’s for sure. I’ve had a lot of time to think in here. Zain makes me take my medication and I’ve leveled out. I’m not perfect, but I’d like to try…”
“You said you visited?” I force him change the subject. I’m not trying to get emotional with him when he is nothing but a liar.
He seems hurt that I don’t want him to continue his confession, but it would fall on deaf ears. He nods and clears his throat. “I did. I had been watching you guys for some time, and I decided I wanted answers, the same way you want answers now. I wanted to meet my baby brother.” He gives a low chuckle as he stretches his neck to the side. “Don’t look so surprised. I wasn’t always like this. I knocked on the door and no one answered, but I heard you crying. You were fucking wailing, so I checked the knob and it was unlocked. Man, you lived in this typical fancy rich house. Two stories, white picket fence, the works.”
I still find that hard to believe.
“Anyway, I turned the knob and I let myself in. It was unlocked because every person leaves their house unlocked when you’re in a safe neighborhood. You were in the middle of the floor. Dirty like you hadn’t bathed in days. You had a diaper on, even though you were too old for one. The house reeked of meth, and you were probably crying because of the drug you were inhaling. I saw that and realized I had all the answers I needed, especially when I saw them passed out on the couch, naked. They couldn’t even hear you. I went to take you, you know. I was going to get you out of there. I had no idea what kind of life I could give you, but it had to be better than the one you were living. A neighbor came over and caught me and threatened to call the cops. I had to get out of there. I regretted it for a long time, but then the regret turned to hate. This deep hatred. I blamed you for ruining her.”
I probably did. I ruin everything I touch.
“I had to kill them for so many reasons. Her for turning her back on me, him for corrupting her, you for being involved, and because it was the only way to save you. I found you there and thought, ‘I can still save him. I can still figure out how to bring him peace.’”
“Peace?” I choke out. “You have no idea what your actions did to me and what kind of life I lived after that. Maybe they were everything you said they were, but at least they weren’t my uncle. Who I had to go live with, by the way,” I shout at him, slamming my hand against the glass again. Even though it is cracked, it still won’t budge. “Do you know what he did to me?”
I hit the glass again, wishing it was the memories I could shatter, then rip my shirt off and spread out my arms. “He burned me with cigarettes. He scarred my tongue. He raped me,” I roar in a broken guttural shout. I ball up my fist and punch again, causing a crack in the glass to spread further. “Over and