Thank you, thank you, thank you for reviewing ― I really do appreciate it! I hope you enjoy this chapter and I really hope it's not too… cliché. I wouldn't normally do this type of thing but I had a burst of inspiration and I hope I can pull it off. Also sorry if the chapters ever seem messed up or confusing. It's kind of meant to be how everything with Ethan is slowly messing up and everything he thinks is just getting muddled and stuff. I didn't convey that very well though. One more thing, I apoligise if you don't like chapters where not much happens. This is more of a thought chapter than an action chapter. It should pick up in the next chapter. Anyway, on with this!
Shattered: Chapter 13
"Which is the true nightmare, the horrific dream that you have in your sleep or the dissatisfied reality that awaits you when you awake?" ― Justin Alcala
Friday, 24 October 2014
Cal was bashing around in the kitchen. A pan slammed onto the kitchen counter and a crash sounded as it hit the floor. He started laughing to himself, loud enough for it to carry through to Ethan's room. The extractor fan above the hob started whirring, signalling it turning on. The kettle started to boil, the sound almost drowned out by the extractor fan.
Ethan listened intently. Staring up at the ceiling as he lay on his back, he just listened. Every little sound, every little laugh or sigh or grunt. Every little noise. Even the small ones. Feet scraping along the floor, doors clicking shut, handles creaking as they were pushed down, the door bashing against the wall, water running from the tap, plates crashing against each other as Caleb put them away from the drainer, the washing machine starting and even the chair scraping across the floor as he sat down and tucked in to his dinner.
He would miss this. He wanted to take it all in and remember it all. Remember he wasn't alone. There was someone there, always there with him. His brother. His stupid, selfish… brilliant older brother.
Not after tomorrow.
He continued to listen and he had to listen. It gave him sanity and peace. It meant he wasn't sleeping. If he slept, he'd only be woken by nightmares — reliving awful things in the most awful ways. If he slept, time would seem to move faster, therefore bringing tomorrow forward faster. It would mean Caleb would move out sooner. If he slept, Ash's birthday would come sooner, bringing a barrel of memories along with it. There would be photographs in the pub, drinks dedicated to Ash. His colleagues smiling and laughing and talking about Ash in the presence of the man who killed him.
He couldn't sleep. He wouldn't sleep. He wouldn't.
I can't. I won't. That's final.
Ethan rolled out of bed. He felt fully refreshed, not like he'd done in days. He smiled to himself and relished in the new found joy he felt. It was a good day and he knew it. Nothing could spoil i―
A scream sounded from outside. Ethan fumbled with the window lock and eventually he opened the window, sticking his head out and peering around.
His blood ran cold.
It took only a couple of seconds to reach the ground floor and run outside. He wasn't even out-of-breath, but that didn't matter.
Caleb was lying on the ground, surrounded by blood. His own blood. There was too much, way too much. A van had stopped just before Cal's body, splattered in blood. There was no driver. There were no other people anywhere, no-one to call for help.
Cal's bag lay a few metres away from Cal, and Ethan realised it held Cal's stuff for when he was moving out. He didn't even wait until Ethan was awake. Cal was trying to escape his own flat…
Ethan fell onto his knees, feeling no pain as they hit the ground.
He grabbed his brother's hand. "It's okay, Caleb. I'm here. You're going to be alright. Why didn't you wait, hey? I would have helped with your stuff."
Cal snatched his hand away with strength Ethan didn't know he had. "Get away from me!" he shouted.
"Cal…" Ethan whispered in shock.
"No. You're useless! You're a waste of space!" he shouted, trying his best to move away from Ethan. Ethan couldn't find the strength to stop him. He was frozen in his place, not believing he was hearing this from his own brother.
"It's me, Cal. Nibbles. Your brother, yeah? It's me," he tried, though he knew nothing would get through to Cal.
It clicked to Ethan. If no-one helped soon, Cal would be dead. But he was sat still, unmoving out of fear and betrayal and… and loss.
"You're no brother of mine. You're a good-for-nothing murderer!" Caleb paused, pure hatred blazing in his eyes. "Mum would be ashamed to call you her son. She always was ashamed."
"Please, Cal…"
"No!" he screamed, before his body fell limp. His last words being implanted in Ethan forever.
His eyes snapped open. He glanced outside noticing how it was still dark. Faint light shone through his window from the street lamp down below. It gave him some illusion of calm, soon shattered by his own body. He could feel his heart beating against his ribcage.
B-bom. B-bom. B-bom.
The sound reminded him that his mind will never… go away. His sleep will always be plagued with images of his past and present. Reminding him and taunting him and mocking him.
His brain was damaged. It had been ever since he was a child. He was a fool to ever think he was free from himself. His brain was messed up. It always was and it always will be. He probably wasn't even fit to treat patients. He couldn't save someone's life if he killed someone else. The sooner Cal was rid of him the better. It was a lucky escape for him. He just needed to make sure Cal wouldn't go into 'protective-big-brother' mode. Not that there was a chance for him to ― he was moving out.
He didn't want to live with Ethan. He'd rather sleep on a sofa and live with three other people.
As long as Ethan stayed away from people, he couldn't damage them as well. He couldn't hurt them or damage them or taint them or kill them. He'd done enough of that to his brother during his childhood, and he'd killed a man he considered a friend.
There was a special place in Hell for Ethan. The sooner he arrived there, the better.