FicWad

He woke, shadows dancing behind his lids and a heaviness running rampant in his head. His body was sore, tired, exhausted. However long he’d been in the hospital had taken its toll on his being. He was so lost to the darkness that had devoured him. Fear was plaguing him, nerves were weighing heavily inside of his soul. He had no strength left, these blackouts were leaving him almost numb to everything that was happening in his life. He was dragging himself along on a broken soul, finding himself in the pit of loss that he had been dug into. Was this his fate?

Slowly he pulled himself up. Rubbing his hand over his face and let out a long breath. His body trembled, his head swam with the defect of his passing out. He saw the hospital again, that sterile gray place that rose up around him with the sea of photographers below his window. He saw Harlow riding in the car with him, sitting beside him with a sweet comfort filling her gentle eyes. He saw the broken lock of the trunk, the lack of the dogs corpse inside. He saw the inside of his place, the trail of blood, the body of the waiter.

His heart stopped. The body. Hanging from a beam, his bloated face purpled and his eyes constricted and his body limp. The rope had been tight around his neck, there were no doubt burn marks on his throat, the scars remaining there after death as well. That waiter who he had accused, who he head beaten. He still had the marks of his punches, his lip cut, his eye swollen. There had been bruises on his cheeks, cuts. Jared’s own fists were sore still, his knuckles cut up. He had left him worse for wear and now, now he was dead.

He stood up shakily, gripping onto the nearby wall for support because of the tremble of his weakness. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to make disappear the pain that passing out on the ground caused. He was usually so sore, not even remembering how actually sleeping in a bed felt like. He was always falling knocked out on the ground, waking up feeling as restless as before his eyes had closed. He hadn’t actually slept in a long time and the despair it caused him was almost nauseating. He knew that he should tell his doctor, get some medicine to help him sleep like Harlow had suggested but he couldn’t bring himself to admit another weakness.

He checked the carpet for the trail of blood that led into the living room. It wasn’t there anymore, the smears of it was missing. His shoes no longer pressed into the wetness. He looked for the stains closer but still it wasn’t there, nothing was there. He knelt down, touching his hand to the surface of the carpet, pressing against the material but found nothing. As if all trace of it had disappeared. Who could have cleaned it and so quickly?

He stepped further into the living and his eyes traveled up to the beams on the ceiling. The body had been hanging there, the waiter swaying from the rope as dead as any other corpse. Purpled with suffocation. But the body wasn’t there anymore, there was no sign of the rope. It was like the waiter had never been there, like Jared hadn’t seen what he had just seen. No one could get rid of the body so quickly, could they? It wasn’t even dark outside yet, getting rid of evidence, blood and a body was a long job.

He stumbled over to the couch, dropping down onto the cushion with a burdened heave. Tears built in the depths of his blue eyes, blurring the image of the ceiling beams above him. It had been there! The blood! The body! If it wasn’t there anymore there were only two reasons for it, two explanations. Either there had been someone in the house when Jared had returned home and had quickly disposed of the body while he had blacked out. Or Jared had imagined it. Perhaps it had been something in whatever drug they had injected into him during his hospital stay.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as confused fear shackled him to this moment. His eyes staring up at the beams towering above him. He felt so small, miniscule amongst the torment he was suffering. He felt nothing but sorrow ripping away the final pieces of the past he had left to hold onto. The agony that filled him was enough to erase the soul that made him alive, the heart that beat within his being. It was enough to make him no longer exist. He wasn’t a man anymore, he was a shell of darkness treading down a broken path.

He stiffened suddenly when footsteps came from the kitchen. His body was rigid as he turned his eyes towards the closed door that led into the kitchen. He swallowed down harshly, his nerves on high, his trepidation echoing and running inside of him sharply. Someone was in there, waiting for him maybe. Maybe he even had the waiter in there, the body decomposing on the wood floor. Something touched to the door knob, twisted it and slowly the door began to open. Someone was coming out, someone was going to approach him and take his life even. Jared was helpless standing there, lost to whoever it was behind that door.

Jared stood up, staring at the door that was opening. His heart was racing rapidly, painfully. His hands began to shake and his steps were slow, fearful. He moved towards the kitchen hesitantly, trying to blink away the rapid fill of tears that clouded his tired eyes. The sound of his boots resonated from wall to wall, the only sound in the house besides the twist of the knob. His breath was shaky, his nerves on shaky end. He wanted to reach for his cell, call the police, call Harlow, call someone to help him.

“Jared? What are you doing home?” Shannon called out, his voice small and inquisitive.

Jared nearly jumped back, losing his footing as he fell backward. His face turned pale, his eyes widened, his shock filling them. He was staring up at Shannon, his brother who was standing there confusion on his face as he looked down at Jared. The closing sun was whispering in through the panes of the windows and displaying on his features. It was just Shannon standing there, his eyes full of care and concern.

He stared up at Shannon, trying to bring himself to his feet. Shannon offered him his hand, pulling him to stand up before helping to situate him where he stood. He looked Jared over, checking to see if he was alright. When he got somewhat of a confirmation over how he was he smiled a little and patted him gently on his arm. “Here to stay?” He asked with a slight comforting smile.

Jared stared at him a moment before he slowly nodded. “Yeah, discharged me today.” He replied with a small nod. The fear was still crawling up inside of him and so was his paranoia.

Shannon started talking but Jared wasn’t paying any attention. He looked around the living room and then walked away from his brother. He nodded absentmindedly before he wandered over to the spot on the ground beneath where the body had been hanging over. There it was, the crumpled paper that had been stuffed into the waiter’s mouth. Clumsily he opened it up, unfolded the layers and then held it up in front of his eyes.

‘Be careful, stop bringing people into this. Do it again and someone else will die. We are one. You are mine. We’re brothers. No one else will or can have you.’

“What is that?” Shannon asked, realizing then that Jared hadn’t been paying any attention.

Jared’s hands began to shake as he focused on the one word, ‘brother’. He looked up at Shannon, backing away a little, the wrinkled paper hanging from his fingertips. Shannon’s lips were moving but Jared didn’t listen to anything he said.

“Get out!” Jared shouted out, pushing at Shannon’s chest making him move up towards the front door. There were protests but Jared didn’t make time for them, he closed his ears to it and finally had him out the door. He slammed the door shut, locking each lock. He stared down at the letter again once he was alone, sliding down the front door and lowering his head to his hands.

It couldn’t be Shannon but….’brothers’. It could be him, it could be anyone.