CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #2
They were dressed as if they’d been working when they were captured.
Black shirts, black slacks, and dress shoes to match.
The toes of those shoes dragged against the basement floor, their wrists bound by rattling chains above their heads.
Ike's face dripped with blood while Shawn seemed to have fared a bit better, with only a bloody nose and an ugly bruise that blossomed across his cheekbone, his sweat-drenched hair hanging in his eyes.
Isaac wore the expression of someone angry and ready to fight someone to the death, but Shawn …
He looked defeated and downtrodden, with exhaustion and sadness in his eyes.
But those same eyes widened with panic as I came into view, his mouth falling open in a look of pure terror.
"Wha-what the fuck is that?" Shawn stammered, his voice increasing in volume with every syllable until he was screeching with fear. "What the fuck is that?!"
Ike didn't seem to care about the tall figure in the plague doctor mask though as he fixated on our father. "What the hell are you doin' here?" he demanded, startlingly calm, given the predicament they were in.
"Isaac, my boy," Gerald said, greeting my younger brother with outstretched hands. He clasped his bloody face between his palms. "Look at what they did to you. Are you hurt?"
"Jump off a fucking bridge, you fuck," Ike fired at him before spitting a wad of bloody phlegm into Gerald's face.
Gerald dropped his hands and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "I deserve that," he conceded, dabbing at his face. "It is very unfair of me to have done what I did to the two of you when, really, you had nothing to do with any of this at all."
Shawn's frightened gaze hadn't yet fallen from me. He stared, whimpered noises raking through his throat as he trembled against his binds. I was riddled with guilt, doing that to him, and if it wasn’t for the man at my back, I would take the mask off then and there. Just to keep him from being scared.
He's going to be scared either way, I reminded myself. When he finds out what I do, what I am, he's going to be terrified. He's going to hate me.
"Joel," Gerald said in a commanding tone, "you can leave now."
I stood up straighter, sensing eerily that he had somehow read my mind.
"Yes, sir," the man at my back said, turning and heading back up the stairs.
"Can you please make sure you lock the door behind you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you, Joel."
The basement fell silent, as if we were all collectively waiting for the click of the lock sliding into place, and when it did, Gerald clapped his hands with flourish and excitement.
"Are you boys ready for this?" he asked Shawn and Ike.
"For w-what?" Shawn asked, his eyes pinned on me.
"Why, the grand reveal, of course!"
“The fuck are you talkin’ about?” Ike asked, seeming to notice me then as his eyes slid from Gerald to land on my stoic form.
He furrowed his bloodied brow and tipped his head as if he already recognized me, and, hell, considering my suit and height … maybe he did.
Gerald snapped his fingers. "Mask off."
I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell him to shove his demands up his fat ass.
But talking would've meant to let them hear my voice.
They would hate me before they even saw my face, and I needed a minute.
I needed a moment to steady my emotions before destroying everything I'd worked for and cared about.
I needed more time.
"Now," he demanded, turning to me with an expression that said he'd kill me if I didn't listen.
Rip it off. Like a Band-Aid. Quick and easy.
Deal with the aftermath later.
And that was exactly what I did.
I bowed my head and reached for the mask and tore it off, unveiling my face as my lungs worked overtime. And when I finally lifted my head to look at them both, I kept my eyes closed for a moment to let the stale basement air settle against my skin.
"What … the … hell?" Shawn uttered in a whisper.
"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Ike exclaimed, enraged—and rightfully so. "I knew it! Oh my God, I saw you come down those fuckin' stairs and knew it was you. You asshole! Oh God, you piece of fuckin’ shit, Abraham! I’m gonna—"
"Oh, Isaac, will you relax?" Gerald interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Abraham here has been keeping you both fed and clothed, and this is how you repay him?"
Shawn shook his head, keeping his composure better than I’d thought he would. "What is he talking about, Bram?"
I took a step forward, wrenching the mask in my clenched hands. "I—"
"Oh, please, let me tell them," Gerald said, something close to giddy. "Abraham works for me!”
"You work for him?!" Ike seethed, his eyes wild against a backdrop of blood.
I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
"What do you do for him?" Shawn asked, and I noticed how … unsurprised he seemed now. But there was betrayal and pain.
Of course there was.
He had known the money was coming from somewhere. He always knew. He just hadn’t known from where, but now … he did.
Shame weighed against my neck as I hung my head.
I didn't want to say it. Didn't want to utter the words.
It was easier with Analise. She understood what anyone who worked for Gerald did for him.
Whether it was killing, selling drugs, stealing, or …
something else, it was all illegal. But she understood this life.
And it was funny to me now—that I'd been more honest with her than I'd been with my own brothers these last few years, even if she didn't know my real name.
"Abraham does my dirty work," Gerald said with pride, standing beside me and laying a hand against my shoulder.
"What does that mean?" Shawn asked, never looking in my father’s direction. "You steal shit? You—"
I shook my head solemnly.
His brow crumpled. "Is it drugs?"
Again, I shook my head, but said nothing else. Because how else was I supposed to admit that I was keeping Leonard's business afloat with blood money?
Shawn narrowed his eyes. "Then … what?"
Ike studied me for a minute, then tipped his head with accusation written in his glare. "His dirty work," he repeated. "You fuckin’ kill for him, don’t you?"
The air left my lungs as the weight lifted from my shoulders. He knew, and now they both did.
I swallowed. I couldn’t nod, but I couldn’t deny it either. So, I did nothing and waited for the truth to seep in.
Shawn's eyes widened, horror written in his expression. "You … you what?"
"Very good, Isaac," Gerald praised, reaching out to pat a hand against his cheek.
Ike gave his head a jerk, shaking Gerald off. "I will cut your fucking hands off and shove them down your fat throat, asshole."
Then my little brother looked at me, his eyes reflecting a treachery and hurt that shredded what little remained of my broken heart. He shook his head with disappointment and licked his split lips as he dangled limply from the chains overhead.
"How long?"
I chewed at my inner cheek, not knowing how to answer that question. "I don't—"
"How long, Bram?!" he roared.
The shame was more than I could stand as I diverted my gaze to the blood-speckled floor. "Little over three years."
Ike's laugh was brusque and bitter as Shawn exclaimed, "Three years?! Holy shit, Abraham. Holy fucking shit. Are you serious? Are you—"
"Listen, boys," Gerald interjected, stepping in with a wave of both his hands.
"I'd love to watch you battle this out. Hell, maybe it'll get really exciting, and you'll just kill each other, although"—he leaned closer to Ike—"I wouldn't recommend trying. Abraham, as it turns out, is quite good at what he does. A little disturbing, if I’m being honest. But I'm in a bit of a hurry, so let's discuss what's going to happen here. "
He took a deep breath and began to pace in the space separating my brothers from me, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed.
"Abraham here has insisted I give you your freedom," he went on, "which I will do. But that freedom is in exchange for your services—"
"Services?" Ike interrupted, his tone panicked. "Get the fuck out of here. I'm not doin' shit for you."
"Son, please," Gerald said with a sigh. "One more interruption, and I'll have no choice but to tape your mouth shut. Let me finish talking."
With another heated sigh, he continued, "Isaac, you will work with your brother. You will shadow him until you are as skilled and efficient as he is. You will accept the jobs I give you, and you will fulfill them without complaint."
Ike's fearful, widened stare landed on my eyes. He wrenched angrily at his chains as his face twisted with anguish and agony, but he didn't interrupt our father's speech.
"And, Shawn …"
Shawn released a tormented groan as he let his head drop. "Oh God," he whispered. "Please, please, no … I can’t—"
"Abraham tells me you're a bit squeamish," Gerald said, coming to stand before him and laying a hand against his shoulder. "I can take pity on that, and I won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable doing.
But I also understand you're quite skilled with computers and numbers, as well as in the world of medicine … is this true?"
Shawn looked up, his eyes on me. Something was there, something he wasn't saying, as he replied, "Y-yeah, but—"
"Then that is what I will use you for. I will call on you when I need help with … things."
Gerald turned to face me then, a fresh dose of anger in his glare now as he said, "And, finally, Abraham."
"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes on his round, sweaty face.
"There's still the subject of your punishment."
Every vertebra of my spine locked into place, my whole body tensing, as I stood taller and repeated, "Punishment?"
Gerald gestured toward my brothers and said, "Well, I have listened to your terms of releasing Isaac and Shawn, and I have accepted them.
But you still need to be punished for going behind my back.
You deliberately disobeyed me. You were supposed to stay away from her and didn't. So, how should you be punished? "