Sanford Crow

CHAPTER 47

The gag in Diane's mouth suppressed her scream. She was writhing on the floor trying to kick free, but the zip ties around her ankles and wrists prevented it. Mascara ran from her eyes in deep streaks of charcoal. Under her bare feet, she could feel the surface changing from hardwood to a shaggy rug. Her bloodshot eyes caught Sanford's as Eric dragged her past him. The way Sanford was crying had scared her more than anything.

Eric tossed her next to the body of Frank Waters. Her squeals of pure horror satisfied him immensely, as she squirmed to get free in the ever-growing swamp of Frank's blood.

"Now, older brother," Sanford heard Eric say, "I want you to kill her."

With that, Sanford's sobbing ceased. His eyes widened, his mouth gaped open.

"Ha-ha, you should see your face right now! You look like someone killed the woman you love right in front of you. Whoops, silly me!"

How Sanford imagined this moment was nothing like it was. It'd been over two decades since they'd last seen each other. In his mind, their reunion would come with mighty hugs, tears, and joy.

"Did you hear what I said?" Eric yelled and put the gun inches in front of Sanford's face, the barrel down between his eyes. "Kill her!"

"Bu-bu-bu-but. Wh-Whyyy" Sanford stuttered out.

"Are you kidding me? Wh-Whyyy? Because, Sanny, it's your destiny."

He threw his head back and laughed.

"This is what the Crow legacy is, you see? This is what Daddy wanted for us. Too many people live life under the rule of law; made up rules that hold no weight. Men thought up these rules for other men to obey, to make them their slaves. That's what your whole life is, Sanny... slavery! You go to work, clean up another man's blood, which by the way is a pretty fucked up job to have, and that's coming from me." Eric laughed his fake laugh again and continued on. "You do that, collect your money, pay your taxes, buy useless shit, when inside you know you're something more, you're something better. Inside, you're like me, because it runs in our blood. We are our daddy's children after all, and twenty-five years ago he bestowed on us our birthright. Can't you see that? Are you that blind? Can't you see the Christmas present he gave us that day? He was trying to set us free!"

"No! You're out of your fucking mind," Sanford said, now crying.

"No, older brother, you are! The whole world is. But all it takes is one moment to change that. Like me, prying out my own teeth." Eric smiled, revealing his cracked gums. "Once you kill her you'll be changed, you'll be free, and we can be together again, doing anything we want to do, because when you're free anything's possible. Consider it a rebirth, and where there's birth, there's blood; it's as simple as that."

"I don't want that!"

"Yes, you do! I've been naughty, Sanny, and I've been spying. I bugged your home, I bugged her office; I've been watching you, hearing you. I know everything about you. You almost killed this bitch once. She deserves it, you know she does after what she did, after all her dirty lies! She told you I was dead, she even suggested you kill yourself! Why? I'll tell you why, older brother, you were never her patient at all, you were her subject. And the only thing she cared about was your story. Look..."

Eric revealed a small stack of papers, folded in his inner jacket pocket. They were loose and untethered. He wound up as if he were about to throw a frisbee, then let the papers fly from his hand towards Sanford. They fell like confetti, swarming the living room with their terrible truth.

The cover page landed on top of the file Frank had given Sanford. Sanford Crow: A Father's Creation. By Dr. Diane Wesley.

The words assaulted him. Betrayed him. He looked towards Diane. Her eyes glued to his with a guilty indignation and deep sorrow that Sanford had known far too well.