𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

22. murdering murderers. (pt.2.)

T W E N T Y - T W O

murdering murderers

My brother is, has, and will always be my best friend. Whether we talk every day, or once a week, he's there for me – always. In a way that no parent really can be.

He picked me up at four AM because I had a fight with the boyfriend he hated with his entire being.

He sat with me when I smoked so much weed I thought I was dying, assuring me I was just way too stoned.

He always had space for me to stay if I got into a screaming match with our father.

I know that if I call him, he'll be there for me.

My brother moved out of the house the second he realistically could, and that was when he got shipped off to college to study history.

He promptly was hit with the realisation a history degree wasn't going to cut it, so he changed to law.

I can remember the day he started packing, I was only six and confused as to where my best friend was going. I tried everything a six-year-old could think to do to get him to stay – mainly unpacking his suitcase multiple times and giving him gifts to guilt trip him. Not that I knew it was guilt-tripping, I just saw they made him sad and decided if he was sad enough he'd stay.

He made me a promise that he'd be back, and the second he finished he moved back. He stayed in a house a ten-minute drive away with about six hundred roommates and an awful mouse problem. Then he met Hayley, they dated for a few years and got hitched, I was a bridesmaid. After a few more years of getting himself established and Hayley then getting pregnant, they moved just down the street.

The best part about Robbie's college years was the fact whenever he came back he'd bring presents.

I adored and cherished each and every one of them

My favourite one was a little, blue, china duck he bought me from a thrift store because he was broke.

Sitting down on the lumpy sofa tucked in the corner of the Château's cluttered living room, I stare at an ornament covered in a thin layer of dust. It's a turtle, clearly old, probably bought before John B was even a thing– person, whatever. It makes me remember my china duck ornament, and horror hits me when I realise it's not at my new house, it's back at my childhood home.

"Shit," I mutter, getting to my feet.

It's only been ten minutes since John B left in a huff, the silence laid on the four of us is thick and full of tension.

"What's wrong?" JJ asks from his position where he sat next to me. I look down at him.

"My duck," I say simply. "I need to get my duck, I'll be back." I begin walking out of the house, not offering any further explanation.

"Hold on a second, you have a duck?" JJ gets to his feet and his hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me from just leaving.

"It's an ornament, I left it back at my house in Figure Eight, I need to get it back. I'll come back later," I rush out.

"I'll come with you, just let me get–"

"No. If my Dad sees you he'll kill me, you stay," I tell him, then turn my gaze to Kiara who bites nervously on her fingernails. "Call me when he turns up, okay?" I ask, and she nods. "I'll be fine, JJ." I turn and look back at him; he doesn't look impressed, but right now, I just need the stupid fucking duck back. My tone must be enough for him to drop it because my wrist falls out of his grip and I walk out the door, the flimsy metal rattles behind me. I take the journey back to my place, one which I definitely do know. My legs carry me quickly, the late afternoon sun still beats down on me, today being much hotter than yesterday it carries some punch.