22 | Liam
Liam
I HAVE BEEN IN THE house for at least an hour when I finally leave the basement.
I go to the kitchen first, and then into the backyard to clean after Dog’s time out there.
I pick up his empty bowl, wash it, and replace his water one last time before I make my way to the living room.
I take a seat on the couch and take the TV remote control in my hand.
The house came furnished, and the TV here is so old it barely gets the basic channels, but that’s enough.
I turn it on to the news channel and let the sound of the reporter’s voice fill the room as I drift deep away in my mind.
I let myself consider everything that happened, the possibilities of another life if she had kept us.
I allow a little shred of sympathy for this woman to creep into my heart. Yet I still know she is doomed.
When Mike finally enters the living room, the night has begun. The space is dark, with only the light from the screen making it a little brighter. He approaches the couch and takes a seat beside me.
While I was still out, Nate texted me; he told me everything we know so far, and the lawyer informed me in a lengthy phone call that the DNA results, even though they would be useful, are not that important.
He was able to find evidence by contacting my family’s lawyer.
The adoption papers and our original birth certificates were easy enough to find, and with no shock there, they both list Mary as our mother.
He sent me a copy via email, which I kept just in case.
“I talked to the lawyer,” I say, breaking the silence.
I am eager to share everything I know. I have always shared everything with him, even when he was just my cousin.
But now I know the bond we’ve always had is more important than ever.
And talking to my brother is something I want to keep doing, even about this.
But I am purposely avoiding letting him know about my conversation with Mary, because as much as sharing things with him is important, adding one more thing to the list of things that will make him furious at the moment isn’t.
“Okay,” he simply replies. His eyes remain fixed on the TV, which is a clear signal that he wants to avoid the conversation, since Mike was never interested in news reports.
I am not sure I like this side of him. He seems distant.
Different. Colder than usual. I haven’t seen this side of him before.
Even when he had to kill to save both of us, he never truly lost all parts of himself.
But now? They almost seem like they never existed.
“We are still waiting for the DNA results, but he looked into the case himself and found our original birth certificates, along with adoption papers. Both of them have Mary listed as our birth mother.” I share what the lawyer told me.
He needs the information as much as I did. Even if he doesn’t realize it.
He looks puzzled, and then he speaks, his words barely a sound. “I always thought of you as my brother; this changes nothing.”
I smile at his statement. You were always my brother, Mike. “I will always be by your side, but we have to decide on this woman’s fate. I know you, and I am not delusional enough to believe she will be spared,” I tell him.
He takes a moment too long, lost in his own mind before he speaks. “Look, I would love to spare her, but you are right; this is not something I am capable of doing. She told me her story while you were gone. A sad one indeed. She was only a child herself when everything happened.”
He seems to have some sense of remorse in his voice regarding his decision, but I know for a fact this won’t change a thing.
When it comes to this man, though, it is progress.
He has killed so many people on his way out of the hell our families created for him while barely feeling an ounce of remorse.
If even that. But the fact that he can understand the weight of his decision might be the only positive thing we will get from her death.
The events won’t change, but my brother might face a glimpse of hope for redemption.
“Whatever you decide to do, I will be by your side,” I tell him finally, and without saying anything else, I walk to my room. I will be thinking more clearly after some sleep, and that’s what I intend to do as I close the door behind me.