The blue and red lights lit up the dark, gloomy sky. I was aware of what the car behind me wanted. He wanted me, or at least my brother. He wants the caller to be the one who finally gets to put Michael Saunders away for life.
I would never stand in their way. My brother tortured me as a child, even strangling me once. I thought I was going to die. I thought he was going to finally fulfill his taste for blood with my own. I often thought he wanted to kill himself more than me, though, he just didn’t have the guts. Draining my blood was like draining his own: we shared the same DNA. I always knew he was a coward: what other type of man hurts people because he’s afraid to do the one thing he longs to do ?
I take long deep breaths; this was a part of my life I’ve learned to live with long ago. Ever since his picture, my picture began to appear across every newspaper in the United States. Usually, if someone had the unfortunate luck of being related to someone who tortured and mutilated people, they would pretend they didn’t exist. How do you do that when they have the same face as you?
Watching the lights flash in my mirror was mesmerizing. I’ve spent many hours over the years sitting on the side of the road with the same lights . And then they were gone, pulling me back to reality.
While I usually had to wait for the guy, or gal, to make their way to my window, this was the longest time frame yet. There wasn’t any stores or gas stations for miles. I’m not even sure where the cop came from. There’s never a cop out on this road. That fact is the main reason I take it to and from my secluded house every day. I didn’t want to imagine how often I’d be pulled over if I lived on a busy street with a convenient store every five hundred feet.
My hearing was heightened by the lack of vision I had. It was one of the darkest nights in the last year, and this is where I find myself. These nights are the ones Michael lived for. He could lurk around houses, in alleys, unsuspecting victims unaware of his presence.
“Come on.” I whisper to myself, laying my head back on my seat. “I need to get home.”
The hinge on the cop door squeaked. I didn’t move, choosing to listen to their boots tapping on the gravel road as they made their way to my car. I counted each deliberate step they took.
Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty -four.
I couldn’t see his shadow. He blended into the night sky, but I knew he was there. My heart rate rose rapidly; I could feel it in my ears.
“Hello brother.”
I knew that voice. It was the voice that haunted me for years. It was the voice I couldn’t forget, even if it was possible to.
Closing my eyes, I took one final deep breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that anyway to greet your twin?” He countered. “Your blood, the one who kept you safe all your life.”
“You kept me safe?” I moved to look up at him, even though it was too dark to make out his features. “More like kept me barely alive.”
“You don’t think I kept you safe?” He paced in front of my door. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have.”
“You should have just finished it when you choked me.” My voice cracked as I spoke. “Then I wouldn’t be living in this hell of people thinking I am you.”
“Why did you think I came here?” Michael sneered. “For a family reunion? I did just visit mommy and daddy though.”
“What did you do to them?”
“Nothing much; you will find them at your house.” He paused, taking in the slight breeze. “All over your house.”
“You son of bitch.” I pushed over my door with my foot, climbing out in one swift motion.
“You got that right, I am.” He backed up.
“Why did you come back here?” I screamed to the darkness. “You could have just stayed away.”
“Did you really think I was going to let you guys get away with putting me in a looney bin?” He asked. “I’ve been planning this for fourteen years.”
Michael had the advantage. He was used to lurking in the dark; his eyes were adjusted to this environment. He spent years in a padded room with no lights on.
“What are you going to do to me?” I dropped to my knees at the thought of being tortured by my brother, my twin, once more.
“Nothing.” He took a few steps back. “Your punishment is having to walk into your home and see what you made me do.” Michael leaned down closer to me. “All of this is your fault; you have to deal with that for the rest of your life. You made me.”
“How did I make you?”
“You told mom. About Jack. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but you told anyways.”
“You killed him because he jumped on your bed.” I reminded him. “You killed him with your bare hands.”
“Just like I did to good old mom and dad.” He stood, walking away, his steps swift. “Now you will truly know what it’s like to be alone in this world.”
Michael climbed into the cop car, speeding off down the road. He left me there, tears falling down my face. I had to face whatever awaited me at my house.
I crawled over my car and leaned against it. Pulling out my phone I dialed nine-one-one.
“Nine-one-one, how can I help you?”
“I need to report a homicide.”