"Fuck", Murphy swore out loud, as his call went to voicemail for the fifth time. "Fuck me". Where the fuck was Connor? They were suppose to meet up an hour ago. It's wasn't like his brother to be late. It wasn't like him to be on time either.
He should have known that splitting up would be a mistake. They rarely did it. They stayed together. They had each others back. They had always had each others backs. Fuck, why had they split up?
Had the situation been different, they would not have done it. But one thing led to another. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Murphy lit another sigarett. He had almost smoked a whole pack already. It had to be some sort of a record, he thought, as his fingers automaticly dialed the number once more. And once more getting nowhere.
The darker haired twin thought for a second, before deciding. Somthing was wrong. He could feel it. Something was very wrong. Since the day they were born they had always been able to tell when the other one was in trouble. Most of the time it was a good thing. Other times, one comming to aid the other, had only gotten them in more trouble.
He snorted out a laugh as he thought of the times their mother had cought them. Both getting a fair beating, even though one had nothing to do with the childish crime.
As Murphy made his way back to the place where it had all gone down, he felt the hairs on his back rise even more. He shivered and hurried his pace. Maybe he should have called someone. Who the fuck would he have called, he though. Doc? Rocco? Naah, Doc was to old. Rocco was probably drunk.
Connor and he had handled themselves for a long time. If something was wrong, he could handle this as well.
Getting closer to the building, he tried to orient himself as to which way his brother might have taken. He himself had come out of the front door. He cursed at himself for not making a note of what path the other had taken.
Jogging around the building he only came to a stop as he saw a fire escape. He looked up, trying to decide if this was leading from the room they had been in. Or at least from the floor. Looking closer he saw blood smeared on the last few steps. He felt his mouth go dry.
Someone was hurt. And that someone might be Connor. If it was, then he couldn't be far. He looked around, eyes wide, trying to get in as much light as possible. The road behind the building went in two directions. Something told him to go right.
He went left. No, he ran. Like the devil was on his back. At the same time he got his phone to his ear. A tired voice answered, he almost screamed the streetname, before hanging up. Praying, as he had done so many times the last hour, but this time he prayed for Rocco to be solber enough to have heard him. To have understod him.
His eyes were everywhere, as he ran. Not wanting to miss a sign. There had to be a sign. Even in the dark. He nearly stumbled in his own feet as he came to a halt in front of an alley. Something had cought his eye.
Blood. There was blood on the wall. It could only be his brothers. Smeared in a cross. A sign ment only for him.
Slowly, he made his way into the alley. Nearly tripping as he kicket something sticking out from behind the dumpster. It took him a few seconds before seeing the man sitting there, slumped agains the wall. His face as well as his jacket covered in blood.
His breath hitched as he knelt down beside his brother. Trembling hands cupping his jaw, two fingers pressing down hard on his neck. A shuddered breath escaped his lungs, as he bent his head and prayed.
A few minutes later, his phone rang.
"What the fuck is going on", Roccos voice asked. "What the fuck did you wake me for? I'm the fucking street, where the fuck are you?".
"Rocco", Murphy inerrupted. "Go left, stop when you see an alley, I'm there. Connors hurt. Bad". Then he hung up and cradled his brothers head in his arms.