Disjointed

Part Two

He stole more than I could have ever imagined. Like I said, I was too late. My twin was always several steps ahead of me. This was the worst kind of chess match. A week had passed since my twin had invaded my home, and me and the fam were at my mom’s birthday party. She was turning sixty-three and, per usual, being a major bitch.

“Where are the deviled eggs? It’s my birthday. I should have what I want!”

My older sister smirked at me and whispered, “You said you would make them.”

“She’ll get over it—”

Bam! My mom smacked me upside the head. My sister burst into laughter.

“You and that smart mouth.” My mom was pointing.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means go get me some deviled eggs!”

I glanced at my sister. She shrugged. I was the odd man out.

“All right.”

I left the house. Walmart had “okay” deviled eggs. My mom would be happy because I’d also pick her up a fifth of vodka. I went to the store, purchased two dozen deviled eggs, and drove back to my mom’s house. The sun had set by the time I got back. Crickets chirped. Some of the neighbors’ house lights were off, while others glowed through the creeping darkness. There was music coming from the backyard. I heard my kids giggling. Faren’s obnoxious laugh. There was this sudden clot in my chest. Every heartbeat was deliberate. Blood rushed to my hot ears as I crept up to the fence, peeking through a crack. My mom shoveled deviled eggs into her mouth as fire blazed from the surrounding tiki torches.

“I knew you were just playing!” she said through mouthfuls. “I knew you had made some!”

There was this burning along my skin. I could tell the hairs all over my body were stiff.

He was there.

Standing in front of mom with Faren wrapped in his arm. He wore my exact outfit, a perfect match.

“Anything for you, mom. You know I love you,” my twin said. He looked around, and I swear he knew I was there because he sneered my way, then called out to the kids. “Let’s sing happy birthday to your grandma.”

They sang. I sank. What was I supposed to do? I dumped the deviled eggs in the garbage and ran back to my car. I raged, gripping the steering wheel. Could I call the police? No, they’d think I was crazy. Would any of my several best friends help me? I scrolled my contact list and called the one who knew me best.

*

“Did you at least text your wife before you came here? I am an hour away,” LB said.

“Yeah.” I nodded, nibbling at my thumb like I always did when nervous. “She told me to be safe. Apparently, my boss had called right after we left my mom’s.”

LB was pouring us drinks.

“I think I’m going to have to kill him.”

LB slid me a glass of bourbon. “I’m down. I got the shotty in the closet. You know where he is?”

My phone rang. I glanced at LB and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, brother.”

I think I almost crushed my phone. “Stay the fuck away from my family!”

Laughter. “Too late for that. Your sister outed me almost instantly. Bitch is smarter than she looks.”

“What did you do?”

Manic cackling.

I stood. My drink spilled. “What did you do?”

“If you hurry, maybe our mother won’t meet the same fa—”

I hung up. LB was already grabbing his shotgun.

*

Darkness. The neighborhood was silent. My mom always kept the front porch light on, but that night, it was off.

LB’s head swiveled around as he toted his shotgun.

“Come on.” I jogged toward the house.

We heard sobbing from upstairs. LB grabbed my shoulder before I could charge up the steps, smirking.

“I got the bigger weapon.”

“Really?”

He pushed me behind his larger frame and began up the stairs.

In the hall, we both froze.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing my best friend, brother.”

“You’re not his brother. I am,” LB said. “Come on out here.”

“You both have five seconds to come in here and lay your weapons down.”

“We can handle this peacefully,” I said.

“Then why the guns? How about you come and look at your sister.”

I slipped past LB and burst into my mom’s room. My twin had a gun to my mom’s head. Her shirt was drenched with tears and sweat. My twin cocked his head to the closet and—

 I saw too much red—my sister’s bare, bloodied legs. The smell punched me, and I gagged. My knees shook, but LB rested a hand on my shoulder.

“Get it together,” LB said.

I clutched my gun and aimed it at my twin.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” He released the safety. “I’ll end her.”

Tears flamed from my eyes. I glanced into my mom’s eyes. She looked down at her trembling hands. Her thumb was up.

“Put it down,” my twin said.

I peered back at LB, and he nodded and raised his shotgun. I shot—BANG— my twin ducked behind my mom, dived into her bathroom, and then slammed the door shut. I untied my mom.

“Go! Call the police.”

My mom ran out of the room. Me and LB stacked on the door.

“You might as well come out,” I said.

No answer. LB aimed at the door—POW!

Pellets blasted through the wood. Not even a cry. I kicked open the door, dread gushing from the pit of my stomach. The bathroom window was open—I sprinted out of my mom’s room.

“Mom!” I rampaged down the steps, LB right behind me.

As we got to the bottom, the wooden floors were slick, and the moonlight lasering inside turned the red into black as it flowed around the corner like some vile snake. LB grabbed me, and I yanked away from him—gun raised as I turned the corner.

And there she was. My mom was sprawled on the floor, her body contorted, her cell phone just out of reach.

There was this hollowness inside me. I felt all the coldness pass through me, and I swayed. How? I couldn’t believe it. I was crumbling, crashing into despair.

“Bro—” LB clung to me.

I turned into him, bawling.

“That’s gotta sting, doesn’t it?” I heard from behind him.

I looked up, and LB’s eyes were wide, his mouth gaped open. I backed away, and he tumbled to the ground with a knife in his back. My twin stepped out of the shadows with his gun set on me, and I raised mine—BANG! I flew back, my pistol clattering to the floor. My right shoulder throbbed and stung as if some animal had its tooth lodged into my flesh. I scooted back through my mom’s blood.

It was already getting cold. And LB’s was mixing with hers.

“Please!” I cried.

My twin walked forward and stopped before he set foot in the mess he caused.

“Big guy right here will be framed for the murders of our mom and sister. There will be drugs in his system. Something that made him crazy. Why he drove here? Nobody will know. You tried to stop him and got shot. When you wake up, I’ll have a message for you.”

I clutched my shoulder. My twin jeered and pulled out a different gun. There was a syringe poking out of it.

“They won’t be able to trace this,” he said.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Everybody that’s said that is dead. Make sure you kiss our mom on the cheek for me when she’s in the casket.”

“ARGGGGH!” I tried to get up, but there it was.

A needle plunged into my chest. Ice stabbed through my entire being as my vision swam. I saw multiple versions of my twin holding his stomach and laughing. I saw too many sets of his dark eyes gripping me with a viciousness that only wanted to tear everything good away from me. He kneeled; my brain thumped. I swore it was pushing up against the insides of my skull.

“This will only end one way,” my twin said. “See you soon, brother.”

Then he rose. His legs became a collage, his footsteps crashing around me as the darkness of the night encroached upon me, squeezing the oxygen from my body.

I was dying. No, I was dead. My twin had murdered so many parts of me. When the oblivion hit, I wished for what I had just experienced to be a dream. I hoped I’d wake up and kiss Faren all over, wake the kids, sit down, and start writing with a cup of tea.

But somehow, I knew that my hopes were nothing but delusions.

My twin had paved a reality for me that was nothing but agony, and I had no clue how to stop him.

Or if I even could.