"Ye didn't sleep a wink."
Connor's voice interrupted his thoughts. Murph turned and looked at his brother.
"I warned ya."
"Fuck ye, Connor." He said weakly.
"Yer not strong enough fer this."
"And ye are? Don't start this conversation with me, brother. I dare say ya can't finish it." Murph answered, feeling his blood rise.
"Just go back ta Harvard, Murph. It's where ya belong."
Murph began shaking his head. Fuck it. "Ya think ye can kill someone, Connor? All ye know is Loss. Ye don't know Death. Ya stayed closed up in an office and classrooms yer whole life. Ye never smelled the stink of tha bodies. Ye never had anyone beg ya ta end their life. Ye never saw someone commit suicide. Ye never saw someone bleed out on a table. Ye never saw someone seize and go violently. And ye've never cut a body either. Ye've never taken a scalpel and opened one up and cut it up piece by piece. That's been my life, some of that at Harvard, some of it at Duke, some in Costa Rica, some in India. But I never shut me eyes to it like ye did. So maybe I don't want ta sleep in a room filled with needles used by junkies. And I'm not afraid to say I miss her like hell and the life I led a month ago. But don't ya dare try ta tell me I'm not strong enough for this. Ye can't do this without me, Connor. Ye'll get yerself caught. Ye'll never find them. And if ya do, they'll take ya, because unlike ye, they do know Death."
He could see that his brother was filled with fury but also that he knew that Murphy was right.
"Let's get the fuck out of here and go ta the church." Connor said quietly.