Andrew and I

Christopher Kane

This is a short story I wrote, please leave comments.

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Here I am, sitting in a police cell, waiting to be questioned. It is a horrible place; I hope they do not ask me to return. It smells and is dark. I can hear inmates threatening each other. I want to leave.

 I don’t actually understand why I am here. I have, up until last week, lived an ordinary adult life. My childhood was not ordinary, at all. I grew up in a small two bedroom cottage, in a small two-thousand person village, with my mother, father and twin brother Andrew.

Andrew and I were like two peas in a pod. We were very attached to each other, Andrew more so to me than I to him. He always wanted my attention. I was in all the highest classes, whereas he was in the lowest. If my attention was not on him, he would go into a rage. At first he would just throw a childish tantrum. It got worse. A few days before our eighth birthday, my mother was asking me if I was excited a bout my birthday. Then Andrew came in, he looked crazed, and he was holding a knife in his hand. He ran at mother, he put a knife in her neck. In frenzy, I threw him off; I was pulling at the knife, trying to save her. But I was too late. They police came round. They wanted to take me away, but father explained about Andrew. They did not charge him because he was under the age of eight.

Here I am fifteen years later, sitting with my head in my hands. I have no choice but to care for Andrew. Father died five years ago. It was a heart attack.  Recently I have been starting to question certain aspects of my life. Things about Andrew, One specific thing I have wondered about is

“Mr Clarkson,” said an officer unlocking the cell. “The detective would like to start the interview now.”

I sit in silence. I stand up and follow the officer to the interview room. The room has bare white walls, on one wall there is a mirror. There is a bare light bulb suspended from the ceiling. In the centre of the room there is a brown fold-up table, with two white fold-up chairs set up. I sit down on the one nearest me. The officer let me alone. They are making me wait. I am involved in security as a job, so I k now this tactic, it is used to intimidate people. Five long minutes pass, the inspector comes in. He is carrying a large cassette recorder. He sets it up on the table and sits facing me.

“Mr Clarkson, you came to the station tonight of your own intention, to put forward a statement about the horrific events of the last couple of weeks.” He states. “Am I correct?”

“Yes inspector.” I answer.

“Could you begin now, as it is getting late?”

“Of course I will…”

“…It all started last Thursday. I was at the circus to see my friend John. We went to university together. I had to take Andrew, because he insisted that he meet John. He was enjoying the show. Then John came on. He was on top form, everyone was laughing. He even laughed at himself. After the show, I went round to find him.  I had sent Andrew home. When I found John he was cutting off a rose head to put on his jacket. We greeted each other and after the a little catch up, we went inside for a coffee. We sat for about twenty minutes. Then, Andrew came in. He started to throttle John but I pulled him off. I received a knock-out blow to the head. All that I can gather is that Andrew stabbed John with the scissors.”

I brake down, I cannot help it. I am worried what will happen.

“Mr Clarkson would you like to continue? He continued after a pause. “Or alternatively we could take a break. I have it down that you have more information.”

“I’d rather continue sir.” I say on an unexpected hiccup. “If you don--, don’t mind.”

“Okay, but first, I need to ask you a question.”

“Anything.”

“Where is Andrew?”

I will come to that. May I continue?”

He gestures toward me with his hand as if to say, go on.

“I work as head of security for a worldwide firm. Whatever happens I know about it. On Saturday, an inspector was coming to check the new security arrangements that I had put in place. I was so excited, giddy as a schoolboy. It was all I could talk about. I was sitting in my office when the phone rang. It was the front door security, the inspector had arrived. I told him to come up to security, floor 8. I was extremely proud of my improvements. I just couldn’t wait for them to be reviewed. When the lift was at floor 7, Andrew appeared. I must have mentioned how excited I was, to him. He knocked me down and pressed ‘EMERGENCY DROP’ on the elevator console.

I awoke five minutes later; Andrew had my colleague Terry at gunpoint. He threw Terry at me and ran to the roof. Terry and I gave chase, but we were too dazed to run, so we staggered through the corridors to reach the roof. It was dark outside, and raining. I couldn’t see my brother. I heard a yelp. It was Terry, I reached for my gun but Andrew had it. He yelled over the rain

‘If I kill Terry, you will care!’ his voice was crazed.

‘No Andrew,’ I yelled in reply. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

He fired three shots in the air. Terry threw his gun to the ground. I grabbed it and shot Andrew. He yelled out in pain and anger, and threw Terry off the roof. In seconds, Terry was a crumpled heap in the pavement. Andrew shot me and escaped. I haven’t seen him since. It was so dark and windy up there. The pain in my foot –where I had been shot- was excruciating. I was rescued but my brother was long gone.”

“Is that all you have to say on the matter?” asks the inspector.

“Yes.” I go on. “Unless there is anything you want o ask me.”

“Yes, there is. Where did you shoot your brother Mr. Clarkson?”

“In the foot sir, not 100% sure to be honest, it was that dark you so if I did shoot him it was in the foot.”

I make my way out of the station. It is a very convenient location, across the road is the ambulance centre, behind it is a fire station and it is on a slip road to the motorway.

I walk over to the ambulance centre. I had left a hollow brick next to one of the driveways. It is still there. Inside is a six bullet revolver, if Andrew is on the loose I will be taking no chances. It is also very risky because I have been recently wondering if I am—

A gunshot fires. I’m running.