Chapter 73

I started shivering.

"What?" was the one syllable that I could spit out. Mark's lip quivered, he looked away from me, put up his hand to shield his eyes.

Mark had his back against the wall, and slowly slid down, until he was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up. My stomach was twisting as I looked at him, I thought I could die. It was infuriating. I stood over him menacingly, but he only looked up at me with exhaustion, sorrow.

"Why aren't you telling me the truth?" I demanded. "Mark! You're supposed to do what I want you to do- why aren't you fucking telling me!?"

He gave me a wistful smile, crying more. "It's so complex, Kane, you don't get it."

"Don't treat me like that!" I shouted. "Don't just assume that I'm stupid, don't treat me like he always did. You know I'll understand. What the hell are you talking about?"

Mark wrapped his arms around his stomach, held himself, looking up at me. "Of course you didn't openly want any of that to happen. But don't you get the fact that you have a subconscious?"

Is there hope for me?

My knees were going weak, I backed away from Mark and braced myself against one of his dressers. It didn't make sense. I didn't…I didn't understand. I loved her. I loved her. I CREATED Claudette. I held my stomach, felt it constricting beneath my hand, so that I started gagging, but still there was nothing there to regurgitate.

"I love her," I said, coughing. Mark was so humble, so quiet, just looking up at me like that. "I love her, I always will. This is…no. No. I didn't want them to die, I didn't want them to die. I didn't! I loved Amber, I loved my daughter…"

"I haven't had a girlfriend in years…" Mark said offhandedly. "I had one…but…it wasn't working."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What does that have to do with anything?!"

"As much as you say you love me…you didn't want me to be happy, did you?"

"Mark, of course I did. What kind of-"

He interrupted me. "Did you?" he asked slowly, more dark than the first time. I felt nervous now, unsure of what he was about to tell me, not sure that I wanted to know. I didn't answer him. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, speaking calmly, musing almost. "The same way you say you want me to tell you the truth…you really don't want to know. And I know it. I've always known these things, Kane. All your life you've been conflicted about things. You push your aggressive side to the back of your head and don't listen to it. The mind you hear now is just the strong person you try to be. But it's not who you really are."

 My tears blurred his image, stung my eyes. "What…what are you talking about?"

"I've been thinking of how to tell you this for a long time," he said, sighing. He stood up, walked over to me, the tears gone from his face and replaced with an unnerving serenity. "Kane…you're always criticizing yourself. You've always been confused. You wonder how you went through something so traumatic and came out such a good person. You know why you question yourself?"

I shook my head, my mouth forming the word no but the sound not coming out. Tears fell from my eyes, so that for a second I saw his face clearly before it blurred again. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"That cruelty, that person you always imagine that you would've turned into if you weren't so nice…is inside you. And you try to ignore it, and it's not working anymore."

"I loved Amber, Mark…"

"I know you did," he said softly. "Just like I know you loved me, and how you never wanted me to be happy somewhere in the back of your mind. I understand, Kane. I understand how you work. It's okay, you stick with me and we'll be fine. We're in this together…"

My head throbbed. "You know everything," I said. "You see my dreams. You know everything."

He smiled again, that same miserable smile that was just from pity, for both of us.

All of this…for you…

I started to fall but Mark caught me, held me so that I wouldn't collapse. "You've shaped my life, Kane," he said softly, in my ear. "Any time I've tried to break away, it hurt so much that I couldn't stay away from you. I hate you for it sometimes…but I love you. I wouldn't have things any other way."

"This is so fucked up…"

"I know it is."

"You lied to me the whole time."

"No. You didn't want to know."

"You're being really creepy."

"I'm just doing what you want me to do."

I wiped my eyes, cleared my vision, stared right into him. "Mark. I want to know what happened with Amber. You have to tell me. You have to fucking tell me. I don't care if I don't want to know in the back of my head-" I started crying more, nearly sobbing again "-you have to tell me. I'm begging you, Mark. Brother…"

He sighed again, and led me over to the bed, made me sit down for it. He stood, not looking at me as he paced the room, talking softly.

"I knew it was some plan you'd been conjuring up for a while. You just didn't know it. You were so out of your mind, you were so dead to everyone back then…for months you were planning the perfect life for yourself, in the back of your mind where this creature you've been acting as would never find out. You wanted to have friends and a lover and be loved like everyone else in the world, because you felt so left out.

"When everything fell into place it was that Valentine's Day. I was afraid that if you got involved you would…become something else. I was afraid for you, and for me. I wasn't going to bring you to the party but…" he paused, I felt a sharp jab of pain go through me, that…feeling. That I caused him to feel. My body jolted, I twitched and then settled. It went away as soon as it had come. "It wasn't just like a feeling here or there as it had been in the past. It was…strong. And it lasted. And finally I just went and got you. The longer I was standing outside your hotel room the easier the pain was on me…I figured you were getting what you wanted, that demon inside you was content, I just had to win you over as well, both sides of you.

"So we went to the party. And you met Amber. And you guys fell in love so instantly. You overlooked the fact that she was spoiled, that she acted like a whore, that she slept with you when she only knew you for a couple hours…"

I glared at him, hating that he said something like that about her.

"It's true though," he said, and raised an eyebrow, lifting a finger up and pointing at me. "Had you met her in your right mind you probably would've cast her off as some ringrat, and don't deny that. But…you loved her. And because you loved her, and because you wanted her, and because you needed her, she needed you back. You wanted her to love you and she did, without question. Love at first sight? Didn't you ever wonder that it was weird that you guys just…saw each other and fell in love?"

I shook my head. "No…" I murmured.

He raised his eyebrow again. "And you know why?"

"Because I didn't…want to admit it…" I closed my eyes, the tears ran down my face.

"Exactly, Kane. You were so in love with her, and your other side didn't want you to know it wasn't real. And you want to know something else?"

I was thinking no, but said yes. But what the hell did we have to lose, now? Mark told me anyway.

"You wanted her dead from the moment you met her."

I screamed, and lashed out, picking up a lamp from the table beside the bed and throwing it across the room, hitting a wall, breaking, crashing down onto the floor. "No! NO I DIDN'T!"

I will take my place…

Mark started crying. "You wanted her dead so badly, Kane. And I loved her as much as I loved you. And I saw how happy this side of you was, and I thought maybe you could be my real brother. But…you're not! You're not yourself, you're just…" he paused, trying to word it. "You've got two sides, Kane. One is my actual brother. You're just…what you wish you were. Everything you had with Amber was just your perfect fantasy of what a life should be. That's why you got married, had a daughter, brought her and Jake on the road with you…it was all perfect for you. And then you made Raven and Saphrin…"

"Oh my God, Mark…don't bring them into this…" he ignored my comment and continued.

"You had them come along because you felt you needed friends. You know why I stopped talking to you? You know why I went back to Paul?"

"No," I said, meaning I didn't know, and didn't want to know.

"You wanted them dead so badly and were placing the responsibility on me. It hurt so much and I didn't want to do it. So I went to Paul because I knew he could fix it…in a way. He used to try all kinds of things to make me not get as affected by you, because he knew he could never use me if you were in the way."

I stood up, pacing as well, holding my head. "So why did you apologize to me? You came to my house and apologized to me, the same night I found out Saphrin was pregnant…"

"Because you wanted me to for once. You missed me. And you loved this image you'd created of yourself so much that you wanted to hear me say that you were better. And it tore me up so much that I came to your house and told you that you were better than me, and that I was at your mercy. And Saphrin? You wanted her to be happy. Raven, too. The two of them were your saviors and you pushed them away. I honestly think they could've made everything better for you if you'd given them the chance."

"But…" I felt so dizzy. "What about…that night? That night I got drunk. The next day you said…you said all these things…" I stopped, had a short fit of sobbing while Mark waited silently. Just looking at him and I could see the pain he was in. "Did you mean what you said to me?"

"Yes."

"I didn't…want you to do that?"

"No. I meant it," he told me.

I rushed at him, shoved him against the wall and pinned him there, my forearm resting on his throat. "Are you lying to me?"

"No," he said, trying so hard to stay calm, yet so turbulent underneath. "I meant it. I thought…" his voice cracked and he paused to control himself. "I thought that maybe you would change after she was gone…"

"WHAT?"

"You were so miserable," he was trying to explain and suddenly seemed completely like a child, lip quivering, eyebrows together, explaining this with his heart in his throat, tripping over his words. "I thought maybe that nice person that you were trying to be would influence your other side, I thought maybe if I made you love me enough you would stop torturing me…"

I was at a loss for words.

"All you do is torture me," he added. I let him go, backed up from him, stood in the middle of the room in silence for a moment. My head felt light, I was weightless, my stomach churned. This was so fucked up- to find all of this out. And I thought I had it all figured, I did. And I wanted to prove something to myself.

 I ran back out into the living room, knocking over some furniture in the process as I fell down beside Paul's corpse. Mark followed me into the room. "What are you doing?" he asked me. I leaned over Paul's body for a moment, staring, relieved that he was actually dead. My heart was racing, sweat was breaking out over my hands and my head and my neck. I took a deep breath, working up the courage, before grabbing Paul's collar and tearing open his shirt.

"What the fuck?" Mark was alarmed.

"Where is it?" I mumbled to myself, to him, to anyone. My eyes searched over Paul's body, his unpleasant fucking physique, the stretch marks that his cellulite caused, looking, looking. I pulled the shirt completely off, rolled his body over, looked over his back. Black dots were appearing in my eyes, over exerting myself. I saw flashes of the nightmare I'd had in the hospital- Amber staring at me, through me. I understood. I knew all afuckinglong hadn't I? It made sense. Looking at me. I'd done it. I'd done it! I'd caused her to die.

But I hadn't been the one to murder her.

At me, but through me.

I can still feel you…

I took a deep breath before pulling Paul's pants down, looking over his thighs maybe. When they, too, were clean, I fell back on my heels, hyperventilated. Mark put his hands on my shoulders, tried to calm me down.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked me, rubbing my shoulders. I took a moment to catch myself, calm down.

I turned to him. "The…the detective…"

"James? What about him?"

"He said that whoever killed her was shot with the bow gun. There has to be a scar. There has to be a scar," I was out of breath. Mark gave me a really sad look. "It was Paul," I insisted. Would it work? If I told myself it was Paul would I believe it? The subconscious doesn't really exist once you know about it. I stared up at Mark, about to break, pleading with him with my eyes to comfort me, agree with me about this. "It…it was Paul. He killed them…didn't he?"

Mark closed his eyes. One of his hands covered his mouth, I saw a tear run down his face. His other hand was shaking as he stood up, backed away from me. It ran across the hem of his shirt for a moment, then stopped. It was so intense.

Even so far away.

He lifted up his shirt, showed me his stomach. More of the memories that he'd sent me were coming through, forming in my head. I saw his hands, washing blood off. Saw a log thrown into the fireplace at my house.

I blinked, let the forming tears fall from my eyes, let everything clear. Clear. Saw more than just the peach colored mass of his abs.

But a little star shaped scar.

"No," I said. "No." I shook my head, wildly, saying no over and over. Seeing in my head his memory. Walking up the front steps of my house, walking right the hell in without knocking. His body hurt so much, he didn't want to do it but was being driven insane. He couldn't take it anymore. All because I was pissed off. All because I'd been wondering how my mother would've gotten along with Claudette. All because I missed Mother so much that I needed someone to blame. All because I wasn't angry with him at the time. All because he'd started the fire but we'd made amends.

All because I needed a reason to hate him.

He walked into the house, slowly, unsure of how to go about it. He grabbed a log from the side of the hearth, walked to the kitchen. Amber was just standing there, looking at him.

Looking at me.

That was the image I'd seen in my nightmare. Mark's fucking memories, Mark's fucking visions. I stared at him in disbelief as he slowly lowered his shirt again, kept his eyes closed. I stumbled backward, tripped over Paul and then landing hard on the floor, staring up at him. "No. No, Mark. No. You…you wouldn't…"

But he had. I could see it. Amber asking what was up, looking strangely suspicious.

He could see my dreams. HE PUT THESE IMAGES IN MY HEAD TO DREAM.

I saw it through my own eyes, like I was the one hitting her, smacking her with the log, hitting her in the head with it, her kicking me between the legs, giving her enough time to grab her bow gun. She shot it, right as I threw a vase at her, so that she fell down on the ground, in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen, dropping her arrows and her gun, misfiring and hitting my stomach. I cursed out loud, tried to pull it out of me as she got up. She was bleeding, from her head, from her hands. She touched her head, blood covering her hand, reaching up and holding the wall for support, leaving a smear on the wall, the handprint that would soon break me.

She limped into the living room, I could tell she was going to try to get to Claudette. She tripped, fell down. I started to get up, after pulling the arrow out of me, slowly walking towards her. She looked up at me and screamed. "Why are you doing this!?!" she sobbed. She shook uncontrollably, bleeding all over herself. I grabbed her up, she wriggled away and fell, knocking into a table, knocking over the lamp. She looked up at the wall, at framed pictures of us, her purple hair stained red. "Kane!! Kane where are you?!?! Help me, Kane, don't let this happen to me!!" she begged, screamed. I smacked her with the log, silenced her.

I leaned down over her, seeing if she was unconscious. So quick, she always was, so alert, so that before I even know it she grabs the log and whacks me in the head with it, causing no blood but causing me to fall back. She's woozy by this time, can't really walk, but crawls into the kitchen, grabs the cordless phone. She's crying.

"Kaaaane," she cried out. "Kane where are you? Don't let this happen to me…our baby, Kane…"

My body hurts, the hurt that I cause Mark, and I compose myself before going in there after her. She weakly lifts her hands up to shield herself, a lame attempt. "Mark…don't! Why are you doing this?! Mark!" screaming, crying, broken. She was smart, she knew she wasn't going to get out of this, that she was pretty much…fucked. So she gave up, bleeding all over herself, dropping the phone when Mark finally grabbed a knife and stabbed her. Hit her more. Then left her there to bleed.

Left her there to bleed while he went to Claudette, making it quick, smothering her and choking her while she was asleep. While I'm going through all these feelings, I'm at least a bit happy that she wasn't in so much pain.

I stared at Mark, feeling ultimately betrayed. I loved him. I LOVED HIM. And I trusted him goddamnit. It was so hard for me to trust and I finally did and felt so strange and vulnerable over it…and look!

I thought my ears would start bleeding, such was the shock, the pain, the guilt. Guilt because it was my fault, guilt because I had killed her. I cried, covered my eyes with my hands but couldn't get the graphic images out of my head. Felt like it was me hurting her, felt the wood in my hands, bashing her on the head over and over after I'd stabbed her. Then just staring down at the phone which had fallen from her hands. She'd only had time to dial 9-1-1, her crucial few numbers, before passing out, and passing away.

It occurred to me that if it had happened somewhere else, Indianapolis maybe, she would've been okay, not in the middle of nowhere, where no one would hear her screaming, not in the middle of nowhere, where she couldn't get rushed to a hospital. She'd died from the blood loss, the head trauma, the brain swelling…all of which probably could've been helped, she could've been saved…

"Of course she could've been saved," Mark interjected. I couldn't look at him, felt too betrayed, too mixed up. "You took that into consideration before it happened. You're smart, you know."

"How could I do something like this? Oh God, no…"

"It's not all your fault, Kane," he tried to explain. "It never was. Not you in particular, you have two sides."

"That's…that's not right…"

"It is," he said. I shut my eyes even tighter, seeing her again, seeing her bleeding. Hurting her, hurting her like it was some game. "You have two eyes, two sides…you fucked up that one in the fire, screwed up the pigment…you've never seen the truth behind it, you've never had that glimpse at what you really are…

"And that makes you a sociopath…"

I thought of all the nightmares I'd ever had about her, about her anger towards me. I saw her bleeding, saw my hands putting the weapon down in the fireplace to be burned and destroyed, grab the arrow and storm out of the house, drive away while it was barely snowing. It would be a while before a cop could get there just to see what the call was about, even longer for reinforcement to show up. Longer for me to get there.

Mark had cried the whole way to wherever he was going, barely able to see the road and the increasing snow.

Staring at the sea…

Yet after doing this thing for me, after breaking his own heart doing what he didn't want to do, for me, because I needed it to be done, the pain was still there.

"They were such good friends to you because they never game in," Mark noted. "I didn't have that luxury. Raven, Saphrin, they stood up to you, that's why you liked them, that's how they cracked your other side into being nice to them."

"This can't be happening…" I said, breathing hard.

All the spoils of a wasted life…

I opened my eyes, and looked into his.

All of this…for you.

The emerald suddenly seemed to be nothing more than peridot. I snapped.

"How could you do this to me?!?" I screamed. His eyes were wildly green, I couldn't read his expression. I stood up, stepped over Paul's huge dead body. I stood close to Mark, only a couple feet away. He just looked up at me, still. Neither of us moved for a moment. I repeated myself. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?" I screamed, louder. He blinked a few times, twitched, almost faltered.

"You wanted me to," he tried to say. I backhanded him across the face, leaving a red stain in the wake. His head snapped over to the side, staying there. Tears fell from his eyes. "You were the one who was hurting me."

It was true, I could feel his pain as he stood there, felt that feeling that I'd always put inside him, always pulling his strings. I wasn't sure how to feel about it. "I…I loved her."

"Yeah, and you love me, too, right?" his eyes turned, then his head, to look over at me, giving me this hard look that made me shiver.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

Mark raised his eyebrows, looking at me with a level of sorrow. Yet so calm. It was creepy. I asked him what he was talking about again, his eyes averting before he cleared his throat, voice scratching. "Don't you want me dead, too?"

My eyes widened, I tried to say no but the word wouldn't come out, just faded from my lips. I loved him, as I'd loved Amber. But this time…I…realized that it was happening, felt fire inside my chest, building. Was there actually some other side to me? It seemed absurd- I didn't want to believe it…

But it was Mark, and I believed him.

I hit him again, pulled back and punching him in the face, cracked right over his nose, between his eyes. He fell backwards, his hands flying to his face, coming away and showing the blood the was dripping, the bruise that was forming. He just stared at me, but didn't say anything.

My fists clenched, I thought of all the matches we'd ever had. All the hugs we'd ever shared, all the times he'd told me I was worthless. It came down to this, right down to this moment, when we were glaring at each other, after I'd hit him the way Paul had hit him before. Paul had no reason to, no good reason. But I did. I promised myself, I promised Amber, that I would avenge her and I was going to. Even if it was my brother.

 I couldn't stop crying as he stared at me, as his nose bled and he wiped it with his hand. "I'm not going to fight you," he said softly, not looking at me but at the blood in his hand. His hand shook, then dropped to his side. He closed his eyes and lifted his head, taking in deep breaths before opening them. He let his arms go at his sides, pulled his shoulders back, made his chest a clear target. He looked me dead in the eyes. "Do it, then, Kane."

The time is drawing near…

My head throbbed and I felt his pain again, saw that he was barely moving except the trembling, knew he was feeling it just then. "I…can't…"

Washes me away…

"But you want to," he said to me. He nearly glared at me, so intense were his eyes, though he didn't seem angry, just desperate.

Makes me disappear…

I stepped up to him, close, reached out and touched his face, felt the wetness where his tears had been. More of them fell, from him and from me. I wanted so badly to hurt him, to hit him, to kill him…but I didn't know if I could…

"You saw what I did to her," he said. "You can do it, Kane."

This was the most macabre type of encouragement. I wrapped my arms around him, hugged him. Cried onto his shoulder. Slowly his arms returned it to me. We held each other for a moment. "I'm sorry," I said to him. "I'm really sorry, I know it's my fault…"

"Don't apologize, just get it over with…"

I pulled back and stared at him for a moment. I shouldn't have been surprised, I should've learned that night that anything was possible, that I should stop just believing what I already knew, that none of it was real…that everyone around me was just playing games with me, knew things that I didn't, just pretended that everything was alright. It was so possible that Mark…wanted me to kill him, just like I wanted to kill him.

"Goodbye," I said, and shoved him, knocked him on the ground, slammed his head down onto the floor. I pinned him beneath me, wrapped one of my hands around his throat while I grabbed the telephone from the table beside us, holding the cradle and bashing his face with it. The blood was splattering up into my face, into my eyes, into my mouth. He didn't scream or fight me, even though he was coughing and sputtering and bleeding all over the place. He was convulsing beneath me as I hit him over and over again in the face.

I could've just strangled him and gotten it over with, I could've just shot him or slashed his throat. But it was coming through, the part of me that wanted him dead, the part of me that also wanted to really hurt him, make him suffer. That's why I was hitting him, that's why I wasn't really trying to strangle him, just to torture him more.

That's why I got off of him after a moment, watching immediately as he curled up into a ball and held his face, but couldn't get up, just coughed and choked. I couldn't decide what to do. I loved him, I knew it was my fault, I didn't want him to suffer…but all I could see was what he'd done to Amber.

And what else did I have to lose, anyway? This was all my fault, why not cause more fucking problems?

I left him there only for a moment, left him to go into the kitchen, grabbing a knife. This was that I wanted, what I needed, I need to see the blood, and to make a mess to get the point through my head. I gripped it, tried to let my soft side leave me, tried to embrace that dark side of me that just wanted to kill him.

And I descend from grace…

He was shaking and not paying attention to me.

In arms of undertow…

I dropped to my knees beside him, gripped the knife tighter.

I will take my place…

He was crying, tears and blood making a mess on his face, but he didn't speak. I don't know if he even could speak at that point, just kind of stared up at me, wavering. I drew in a deep breath.

IN THE GREAT BELOW!

With a quick movement I stabbed down, the knife going through his chest and into his heart with little resistance. The blood poured out, hurt my eyes at how dark and rich it was. Mark's eyes widened, the color blazing from the blood that surrounded. His mouth was moving but he wasn't saying anything. I looked down into his eyes and saw Amber. My grip on the knife tightened and I twisted it.

I do love him, I still do. It's just confusing about who's fault all of that was. If I can blame him for it I'll pretend I don't know it's my fault, just because it makes me feel better.

I can ignore that, can't I? I can let go of the knife and stand up and wipe the blood off on my pants and ignore who's fault it really was.

His breathing slowed as I stood over him, watching, disgusted at him and what he'd done, how we'd treated each other our whole lives. Blood was pouring fluidly, over him, over the carpets, creating this sea of red. It came in a flood, gushing, all over the place. I wanted to kneel down, hold his hand, do something, but…didn't. I couldn't bring myself to, could only cry and turn my back, leave him there to bleed the way he'd just left Amber like that.

There was no saving Mark, like there was no saving Amber, like there was no saving my kids.

I changed my clothes and left the house.

Like there was no saving me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE!! …one chapter left. ;D