My brother, my twin brother, my pitiful twin brother, my murderous pitiful twin brother, my psychotic murderous pitiful brother's trial was coming up. And guess who had to attend, not only come to be in the same room with the man that looked just like me and was charged for the murder of his pregnant wife, but guess who had to attend front row.
You know what people do with something they don't like? They push it away, isolate it so they never have to make contact with it. The prison was three miles off the shore, secluding the bad people from the good ones. I was heading straight towards the place that people don't like, the place that was pushed away.
In our small paddle boat, the man rowing me towards this disliked place had a worn brown overcoat on and a pipe sticking from the side of his mouth. Charon sailed me down the river Styx and stopped as soon as we reached the dock.
"I hate this place." he inquired with a long sigh
"Why?" I asked
"Because every time I come here, I always feel like I'll never come back out."
I felt the same way. The tour guide leading me to my brothers cell was pale and didn't seem to enjoy his less than minimum wage paid job. Behind the many chained and whitewashed doors, I was meet with myself.
It's odd to see yourself across cell bars, almost as if looking in a mirror.
"Good morning, brother."
His face was subtle except for his maroon lips, drawing attention from the rest of his face. On his white jumpsuit was a set of digits, B5160-8, the only thing keeping me from being put in his place.
"One question for you. Do you mind switching outfits with me?" he scoffed
"When we're both in hell, sure why not." I responded with a cheeky smile
"You wouldn't know what hell is until you're in this place. Your weak ass wouldn't even be able to handle a week in here." he implied with a brash chuckle
I may or may not have mentioned that my brother and I are extremely competitive, the whole who's the better twin thing. We would do and will do everything just to prove a point. It's one of the most exasperating parts of being brothers, besides him being a killer.
"Is that so? You really think I can't handle a week in this place?" my voice tinted with anger
"Is this a bet I here coming? That's right, if you stay in a cell locked up for one week, then maybe I'll reconsider stabbing your own wife?"
And it was so. The prison's board was fully against me asking to be put into a cell, but I persisted on no matter how much begging I do not to take me out until one full week. I really should have listened to them.
Like I said before, I want them to go full out. I was put into the containment ward with a white jumpsuit, shoved in a condensed room. I really have no hope of coming out with any sanity left, if I even started off with some.
Day 1
Bored. That's all I can think of. I try to let my mind escape and go on a thought provoking adventure, but I can't even get past this wall of boringness. I spent this time doing push-ups and drawing on the wall with a pebble.
Day 2
I didn't get much sleep; most of that night was me sitting there with my eyes open. It was mid-day when the slit in the wall opened and a tray was tossed in. I banged on the door, "Okay, I've had enough. Just let me out now."
No reply.
Day 3
My vision has started to blur, when I look at my fingers they're either conjoined or have grown a new one. I shut my eyes and traveled through the wonders of contemplation. I was in the middle of the forest, sitting down by the banks of a river. I had a loaf of bread and was feeding it to the ducks.
I was brought out of my reality when I opened my eyes and saw my brother standing in front of me.
"Where we're you just then?" he graveled
"Feeding the ducks." I said in a calm pacified voice.
Day 4
I have a secret.
I can see you.
I know you tried to hide, reader. I can see you, and you can see me. Through these words an image has appeared in your mind, do you see? That's me right there, waving at you.
It's just you and me, and it's always been me and you.
Day 5
"Get up, your trial is starting sooner than assumed." a guard ordered while barging in. I was lying on my bed, counting stars.
"What? You must have me mistaken with my brother...I want to see my lawyer." It was usual for people to get us mixed up, but in a place like this I can't let that happen.
The guard huffed, "More like you'll be seeing a psychologist."
You believe me, don't you? Of course it's just a silly mess-up that will be fixed soon. They led me to a large room bordered with bookcases, in the middle a desk with scattered papers on top. A man with unusually large glasses stood in front of it with his arms outstretched, reading something from below.
"B5160-8, I'm glad you could come." he addressed, not letting his eyes leave the paper.
"If you don't mind, I'll take my leave. You got my mixed up with my twin brother, he's the one I came to visit before his trial." I indicated
The man shooed the guards away and gestured for me to sit across from him.
"Why do you think you were here for your brother?" he asked suggestively
I tilted my head, "My brother killed his pregnant wife last year and when his trial was publicized I was told to come. We had a bet that I wouldn't be able to last a week in a cell. So I took up the offer and after five days I'm brought here." I explained
He nodded at each sentence. "I'm sorry to tell you, but you don't have a twin brother. You murdered your pregnant wife on April 6th last year." he squinted his eyes while trying to get this nonsense stuck in my head.
"What? This is all just a big misunderstanding. I came here to see my brother's trial. He is B5160-8, you just have to check the records." I insinuated, obviously this man has no idea what he's talking about.
He pulled from the stack of papers two files. He opened them both up to a certain page and laid them out in front of me. One was my birth records, saying I was an only child and my mother died after my birth. The other was a prison-record; next to my name was B5160-8/Manslaughter. I shook my head, what the hell is this? I'm perfectly sane, you know that too, reader.
"Sir, you never left your cell. After you were detained last year, you've been here the entire time." the man said
That's when it hit me. It was my wife's birthday, she was outside gardening. I came up behind her and hugged her, one hand on her stomach. I reached around and punctured the womb, taking two lives at once. The cops came and brought me to this prison, and I've been here ever since.
I stood up and walked to the mirror across the room. There I was, pale, maroon lips, with a white jumpsuit reading B5160-8.
Reader:"
You know what. Fuck you, you're not allowed to speak. You knew all along, didn't you! You knew ever since I stabbed my wife, and you never said anything. Well I have bad news for you, you're stuck with me. You'll have nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, you and I will be here forever.
I am prisoner B5160-8, and so are you.
