My Way

Two: King

(TW: Mentions of/References to Suicide)

I never should have let him out of my sight. 

I shouldn't have been so stupid. Mum was working double shifts today, so I had no choice but to watch him. But I thought she was into me, so I stayed out. I kissed her and held her chin. I grabbed her breasts and she grabbed my ass. Then the air was cold. When I opened my eyes, she pulled away. She said I wasn't 'her type'. What the fuck does that even mean? 

I'd wasted what were apparently my last minutes with my brother on some bitch from behind the counter. A face full of makeup and her top so thin I could see her perky nipples jutting out. She'd tracked me down. I'd pretended to be lost - if she thought I liked those Neil Gaiman books, she'd wouldn't even touch me. So she led me to the thriller section and we kissed behind the bookshelves. 

When I got home, Prince was gone. 

Yeah. I should probably tell you about our names. 

My Mum was born in 1972, in the Cezch Republic. Three days after I was born, Dad went out to get the milk and never came back. She never let a man buy milk again - not even me. With debtors at the door and my brother dying in hospital, Mum decided to bring us here - to the UK. They have this thing here - the NHS - and when she held out a wad of cash, saying she could get more, that she had a way - the receptionist said, the treatment is free. And my Mum, who I'd never seen cry, wept. 

My brother is Prince Novak. I am King. Mum said it was better to pick new names. Our real names made people nervous, she said. They let people know we were from 'out of town'. So I chose for us. King and Prince. 

"That's typical of you," said my brother. "We sound like we're in a Shakespearean tragedy. You should have called yourself Macbeth". 

"I'd be Hamlet," I said, frowning. Prince laughed.

"Macbeth is driven by ambition and manipulated by a sexy woman. It's you". And my brother really was Hamlet - driven to madness by his family. By me. 

When I got home, I checked Prince's room. Then I checked the basement - we'd had to put a stair-lift in because he went down there so much. Part of me wanted to call that girl I'd met online - MissEggplant1607. She was close-by and I had a feeling we'd met before. I needed her - something between me. Just to get through the day. She was close. I could slip out and be back without an hour. We could lie together. I could pretend I we were normal - boyfriend and girlfriend. I hadn't seen any pictures of her. Not of her face, anyway. 

The basement was empty. 

"Hamlet? You're being an idiot". We were far too told for Hide and Seek, but Prince loved to mess with me. He was elfish: mischievous, fun, but when something went wrong, he snapped. 

I checked the house. Empty. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

My motorbike was at the garage and Mum had cycled to work. We didn't have a car. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

I tried to think of where Prince would have gone. He didn't - couldn't - go out much. His condition wouldn't allow it. The wheelchair was part of it, yes, and it didn't stop him. The wheelchair had never stopped him. But it wasn't just that. It was more. Prince had been in and out of hospitals all his life. His fate could change at the roll of the dice. 

I was supposed to look after him. 

I ran. I didn't want to admit it, but I had a feeling he was already gone. He'd tried to do it before, shortly after we first moved here. There was still a slight stain in the bath.