OIT IV

Our Intertwining Tale, chapter four: Deathly Thoughts

Is she nuts? My brother, trying to kill me? Why me? Is he really insane?

With all of these questions, it was hard to believe her. I’ve known my brother for my entire life, he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Or, at least that’s what I thought. I close my eyes, putting my fingers onto the temples of my forehead. I can imagine my mother’s expression now: Eyes wide with hurt, her mouth partly open. She’s thinking that she knows that it sounds absurd, too. But I don’t think it’s absurd. It’s completely logical for him to be put in an insane asylum if he’s trying to kill his brother for no reason at all. He deserves to be there.

“Listen, Donovan is allowed to visit twice a week, as long as I’m in the house with him.” She thinks that while she’s telling me this information, I am feeling relieved. But, this is actually causing me to fill my chest with an icy feeling. An icy feeling of fear. I open my eyes, staring back at her with my mouth open.

“He’s…” I pause, trying to keep my voice intact. “He’s trying to kill me.” My voice comes out with a high, shaky voice. I know I sound childish right now. If my brother was still here, and we were still young, he would laugh and point at me.

“He’s trying to kill me!” I repeat it, trying to make my mother understand where I’m trying to get at, “And you’re going to let him visit? Are you crazy?”

“But I believe that your brother still has goodness inside of him.”

“Mom, if he entered this house with a gun in his hand, how would you know that he has good in him?” This question surprised her more than I thought. But, I had no idea how close that comment was compared to reality.

“He would never do that. Now, our conversation is over. Don’t start this with me.” She charges ahead of me knocking into my shoulder cap. I stagger sideways, hoping she has something to say to me. But nothing comes. I shake my head, sighing quietly.

“I’m going to town.” I exclaim, halfway out of the door, waiting for her to say “okay” or something like that. Waiting for what seemed like forever, I slip out the door, feeling the sun and chilled wind onto my face. I look up, smelling the scent of smoke. It wanders around my nostrils, calming me down. I can almost hear a voice whispering in my ear, prepare yourself. But that’s impossible; I’ll never allow my brother to even get a hundred meters from me. I’m not ready to die, yet.

I begin to walk down the road ahead of me. The sun is high in the sky. Wasn’t it dark when I entered the house? I could have sworn that when my mother and I began that conversation, I was tired. I put my watch up against my face: one twenty-six.

I lean slightly onto a sidewalk, standing in front of a stop sign. Its white words almost stung my eyes in the absurd morning sun. “Stop”. I sigh, wondering if this is a literal sign, telling me to turn around. I look to my right, to my left, nothing. I sigh again, but louder, just waiting for someone to ask me what’s wrong.

This isn’t right. I feel as if I’d been told lies all this morning. I think as if the sun were lying to me right now. There is no way that it could actually be one in the afternoon. I should be tired right now, my brother should be outside, free. This shouldn’t have happened.

“This is all a lie!” I scream, pulling out the pistol that is attached to my waist. Pointing at the stop sign, my fist is shaking with rage. I can hear nothing, dead silence whispers in my ear: “save them for later…”

Save what? I make the words shout loudly into my mind, preparing to shoot the large red sign above me. I need to calm myself, before I hurt anyone.

Closing my eyes, I begin to breathe calmly, in and out, until I can be ready for this. I wonder if I can get arrested for shooting a stop sign in the middle of a suburban city. But being arrested is better than being killed by your own sibling.

“Stop this, brother.”

I hear a voice from behind me, causing me to jump. I turn my head slightly to the left, scared for my life. If it was really someone of relation to me who said that, it must be my brother. The one ready to kill me. Seeing nothing, I become more afraid than ever. It’s because I know where he is, now.

I jump, spinning myself until I’m facing my back against the stop sign, my pistol held high, ready to shoot.

“What?” I lower my weapon. Nothing’s there. Not a person in sight. I bring the pistol back up, turning to my right. Nothing. I turn to my left. Nothing, again. Am I hallucinating? I shake my head, putting the pistol back down. There’s no way that he’s here. I just made up that voice, convincing myself to stop from getting arrested, didn’t I?

“What are you doing here, Josiah?” I don’t even have to see him to know who it is that’s standing behind me. Rylan Bell, my old friend who worries constantly about me.

“I’m just out taking a walk, what do you want?” I spit it at him, feeling a bit guilty afterwards. But the guilt is pointless, he deserves it, anyway.

“I just…” He shuffles the dry orange leaves on the sidewalk with his tennis shoe, “I heard about your brother, sorry man.” He looks up at me, thinking that he can accept a reply to him and his foot shuffling. I can see him, searching my face for any clue evidence that I’m depressed. I try my best to show him nothing, glaring at him until he looks away. That’s when his curiosity gets out of hand.

“Josiah, what are you doing with a gun?” He points at it secretly with his hand in his sweatshirt pocket and continues, “Are you..?”

“No, Rylan, I’m not trying to commit suicide.” I put the gun safely back into its place, continuing, “Stop worrying so much, okay?”

Rylan looks down at his feet, maybe he’s disappointed that he made wrong judgment, or maybe he is disappointed because he truly wanted me to die. I will never know.

“Oh…” He realizes, looking back up at me again, “I’m sorry. Are you going to be okay?” I immediately shoot him a stern glance; I can feel him tense up. He asks me that every day, in person, on the phone, any way that he can get into contact with me. He doesn’t understand that I tell him the same thing. I guess it’s not enough for even him to understand.

“Get out of here.” My response causes him to loosen. He obviously has something to say.

“Why? So you can kill yourself while I’m gone?” This causes me to tighten my fist back against my pistol; I can kill him right here, right now. And no one will know that I did it. I grin widely, showing my canine teeth in a disturbing look, even for me, I’d be afraid of this glance.

I can see his face fill with fear, check. Now he’s got about one more move to make.

“Run.” Whispering the one word, he listens closely. Understanding that his curiosity might literally kill the cat, he takes a step back.

“Are you really going to kill me?” He’s asking for it. I can feel it. But of course, I wouldn’t kill him. I’ll just scare him.

In one quick move, I lift the gun, flicking back the slide with my thumb, ready for one shot. He looks frozen for a second, thinking that I’m ready to do it. I loosen up slightly with my fist, creasing a smile at his vulnerable eyes.

Once he realizes the smile I have given him, he takes several steps back, shaking his head. Before he can say anything, I prepare my finger, making him cautious. He’s not ready to leave, but he better be. I thrust the gun farther ahead of me. He darts sideways, making me jump and tighten my fist on the gun. A bullet flies from the barrel, flying through the air and breaking through the branches of a tree.

Astonished with his wide eyes and gaping mouth, Rylan looks over at me. He looks more scared than ever, maybe even angry.

“What the hell, Josiah?!” He screams, clinging his fingertips to the edge of my pistol and throwing it down into the concrete. I see it, fall, shatter into many metal pieces, lying there, harmless. I look up, with any emotion is has to be anger.

“Rylan, Rylan, Rylan…” I shake my head consistently, looking at him with a large tooth-filled smile. As I continue to look even more insane, he becomes more astonished than before.

“Why the hell did you shoot?” He wants the answers out of me. I don’t have any. He almost gasps like a woman, and puts his hands on my shoulders, causing me to struggle out of his grip, “You were going to kill me?”

“Get off me.” I demand it, gripping onto his elbows with all my strength. I tighten as hard as I possibly can; I can hear him holding back the yelps of pain. He is clenching his teeth, but keeping a straight face. I continue to grip, but he loosens the more I clench onto his elbows. I was always the one to cheat in anything we did as little kids. He proved it.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Josiah. You haven’t changed one bit.” It is as if we were still five, and got into a fist fight. I’m still acting like a kid.

I immediately let go, slinging my arms to my sides, seeing him let go all of the pain clenched into his jaw. He sighs loud, feeling relieved that it was what he said that stopped him.

“Rylan, get out of here before I kill you.” I clench my fists against my waist, watching him remove his hands.

“I just want you to promise me something, okay Josiah?”

I sigh loudly, loosening once more and looking away from him. As long as it gets him out of here. “What?” I spit it at him, again. But this time, I’m not feeling guilty. I wouldn’t have cared if I had actually shot him. Is it okay to really not care about someone that much?

He kneels down, picking up the shattered pieces of metal lying in the ground, “Just promise me this.” He looks at me, staring into my eyes. It makes me feel awkward and I look away. But he just shakes his head and continues, “If you’re going to shoot anybody in this world, it shouldn’t be me, it should be your brother.”