Triggers: Acts of violence. Suicidal thoughts and actions. Religion.
I'd been separated from my brother. It happened fast and I'll admit that this is the first time that I have ever been away from my brother. One minute we're rotting away in the Hoag, the next the gates suddenly open and everyone is making a run for it. Connor and I didn't run right away, this just seemed odd. Even the fucking guards were leaving. Then we heard the report of an outbreak and people turning into zombies. Fucking sounds like some fucking movie, right up Connor's alley. We raided the weapons room, giddy when we found our desert eagles. Likes kids in a candy store. I may have even sweet-talked a bit. I was still a bit skeptical, waiting for this to all be a fever dream. Sadly, it was reality. Once we had stepped outside the prison gates, we were greeted by a dozen rotting bodies, gnashing teeth and growling. Some had chunks of flesh missing, one was missing her nose and jaw. As a guard ambled towards us I put him down with a bullet to the head. That made it real for us. Made us realize some heavy shit was going on around us.
We'd made it to the cathedral, and barricaded ourselves in. I'd be lying if I said we weren't scared. Days we spent on our knees at the altar, under the feet of the large wooden Jesus statue. We prayed every day, asking the Lord for guidance. Ma and Da, got rest their souls, had passed. Da before we went into the hospital and Ma a year later. Part of us is grateful that they are not suffering in this hellish world.
We prayed that the Lord watches over us, and give us any sign that it would be okay. What is the message he is trying to send us? Our faith is not easily shaken, but I have found myself questioning. Why is this happening? What is the high purpose here?
Nothing made me question more when days later the cathedral was taken by a horde of the undead. They came in the night, like some demonic plague. The doors had burst open, jarring Connor and me from where we slept in the pews. We fought back, bullets flying and calling one another's names We tried to stick close, but the horde was stronger than us. I yelled for Connor, his voice echoing my name back as we broke apart. I yelled out, meeting at the Prudential building. I swore I'd be there, nothing was going to keep me from finding my brother. The horde drove me west. When they had laid dead when I finally felt safe and no dead in sight. I was miles from the cathedral.
My heart hurt in the week following, my brother had never made it to the Prudential building and I feared the worst. Pain wracked my body and I know it is a mix of my own and my brother's. Yes, then twin this is true. Ever since we were little, in some sense, Connor and I could feel each other's pain. We always moved as one, like two halves of the same soul. Which is why now I feel empty. For the first time in my life, I feel alone. I remember even when we were sick when we were little, we'd sleep in Ma's bed, huddled together, with coughs, sniffles, and all. Ma would call us little shits and laugh while she loaded us up with soup and hot toddies.
As I approached the doors to the church, desert eagle in one hand, I can feel my heart in my throat and my stomach in knots. Of course, I have thought about what I may be walking into. I could be walking into another horde, I could also walk into my worst nightmare. Connor gone. A dozen different scenarios are going through my head as I pray. I stand at the doors and pray to God that I find Connor and get the hell out of this place. I ask him with everything I am, that if I do walk in to find my nightmare that he take me. Take me so I can be at peace with my brother.
Quietly I push the doors open, scanning the area as I whisper for Connor. There is a voice in my head, trying to tell me to prepare for my brother being dead.
"Fuck off." I curse the voice, my free hand signing the cross over my chest asking for forgiveness for cursing in church.
Slowly I walk down the main aisle, the pain in my chest growing. I step over bodies, groaning a bit as the smell of rotten flesh is thick in the air and almost feels like it is clinging to my exposed skin. What stops me in my tracks is the form laying at the feet of the same Jesus statue Connor and I prayed at for days.
Jeans and peacoat. It stops me. I don't want it to be true. I don't want to believe my eyes. Loiters, could someone have robbed Connor? Farfetched. Could happen and I know this is just me trying to find exert reason to not believe the figure is my brother. Even as I step closer, the sunlight shining through the stained glass window casts a rainbow shadow on the tattoo on the figure's neck. Mary Magdalene.
No. God please no. Don't make this reality. Make this a dream.
My gun drops to the floor and my knees follow as I fall next to my brother. My eyes cloud with tears as they stream down my cheeks. My heart is shattered into a million pieces and I can feel the jagged pieces moving around in my chest. My hand comes down, cupping his cheek. His skin is pale, his throat now a gaping hole. His peacoat and shirt are ripped, and his nails are dirty and have rotten flesh under them. There is blood on his jeans and speckles on his face.
"Please. Connor, I don't know how to do this. I need you. Please." I plead.
I'm honest. We constantly bicker about who came out first, and who is the elder twin and I have always known in my heart it's Connor. Connor is the forceful one, he is the one who has protected both of us. I have always felt younger. I like to brag, but I know the truth.
When Connor's eyes open, they are cloudy and bloodshot. They had no life in them, no soul. Connor hasn't been in this body in a while. I admit, I felt it, but I refused to believe it. I foolishly believed I'd find my brother alive.
Even as he growls at me, I find myself frozen. I can't help but stare, my hands trembling. His hand reaches for me and I don't blink until his fingers curl in my shirt and I see the faded Veritas tattoo. He growls again, teeth gnashing at me as he pulls himself closer to me. My hand wraps around his wrist. Justice wrapped around truth.
The whine that escapes me is that of a little brother. A little brother asking for his elder. Wanting to believe his brother is here.
Through my tears, I can yank Connor away from me, throwing myself back to put distance between us.
As Connor crawls towards me, I push back while my hand searches for my gun. My blue eyes never leave him, even as the monster who took him over snarls and gets to his feet. My mind is screaming at God. Why did God take him from me? Is this my punishment? Our punishment? We killed in the name of God, now this is how we are punished. God taking the other half of my soul, the other piece of his heart.
Just as I grab my gun, Connor lunges at me. I use my feet to deflect him, both planting in his chest and thrusting him backward. I know don't have a choice here. I never would have thought I would have to shoot my brother, never would have thought I would be the one to rob myself of my own fucking heart.
Getting to my feet, Connor is ambling towards me once more, skin hanging from the hole where his throat should be.
"And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord for Thee Power hath descended forth from Thy hand"
Choking the words through my tears.
"That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be."
I stare at the shell of my brother as he gets closer. My hand shakes and I beg for forgiveness. I beg Connor will forgive me. I know he wouldn't want to live like this.
"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."
I pull the trigger, silencing Connor forever. Connor falls deadweight next to me, a well-placed shot to the head. My breaths are heavy. I roll Connor onto his back and gather him in my arms.
"NO! NO!"
I scream and cradle Connor as sobs wrack my body. My tears stream down dripping down my cheeks and splashing against Connor's face, like the night of their "baptism" in the jail cell after the fight with those Russians.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Forgive me, brother. Forgive me, forgive me." I mumble.
Rocking back and forth, I use the sleeve of my jacket to clean Connor's face, hiccuping as I do. I don't want this, I hate this. I want to scream and ask God why. I want to ask him to take me, bring Connor back, and take me.
"I love you. Please, forgive me."
My pleas turned incoherent.
"Wasn' pose ta be dis way. Yer not pose ta leave me." Crying harder. "We're supposed ta go together."
I growl in anger, my fists clenched in Connor's jacket. I don't know how long I have sat here, but my cries turn to whimpers. I can't leave my brother like this. Through my tears I gently lay Connor down, getting to my feet and holstering my gun. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand before bending down and picking my brother up carrying him to the feet of the statue and laying him down.
Kneeling, I pull Connor'sm rosary off and replace it with mine. Slipping his around my neck, I lean down and kiss his brow before laying his hands over his chest. I whisper an old Irish prayer over him and say my goodbye.
"I should'a tol' ye a long time ago that I always knew t'was you who came first. Ye tha elder. I jus' like givin' ye shit. I looked up ta ya. Always amused when I could get'a rise outta ya. Tell Ma an' Da I'm sorry. I didn' keep ye safe. I'm sorry."
As much pain as I am in I wouldn't kill myself, suicide is a sin. Connor wouldn't want that. I'm numb and my heart is broken. He had nothing now; he was dead inside, his body numb, heart, broken. I have nothing now. Lifting my gaze my eyes locked on the statue of Jesus, I clutch Connor's rosary.
"Please, take care of me brother. Tell 'em I love him, I miss him. Tell 'em he was older, I always knew. He protected me, took care o' me. Always put me b'fore himself, even when we were little, t'was always me causin' trouble. Connor would come, grab me hand an' pull me from under whatever tidal wave I was under. He'd always mumble "Fuckin' Murphy." Crossing myself for cursing in church.
When I try and step away it's like I am fighting against some invisible force, drawing me back to Connor as he tried to back down from the alter. It played in my head. I'm all alone. For the first time in my thirty-eight years, I'm alone.
The second time the noise sounds I am quick to pull my gun from my holster. Blue eyes search in the haze, slowly making my way down the steps. Pew by pew I go, gun at the ready. My mind is still on my brother, even if I knew I needed to focus. I wish I had words to explain everything I'm feeling. It's blinding me. I back toward the confession booth as I continue to search. Had I been on my game, I'd have sensed the corpse that lunges from the booth. Its teeth found my arm and tried to tear the fabric of my jacket. Who knew a fucking corpse could be so strong? The more I tug, the more it seems to dig in.
I manage to free myself by sliding out of the jacket and putting the clothing between me and the corpse and pushing it away. As I back up, I know I have been had when a second corpse lunges from the confessional. I managed to shove it away long enough to shoot the corpse that was ambling towards me before the second's teeth finds my left shoulder. Maybe this is what I wanted. A reason. It's selfish I know, but as much as I wanted to press on, I am okay with laying to rest beside my brother.
"FUCK!" I yell.
Turning my body a bit, adrenaline kicking in, I elbow the corpse in the face a few times to knock it off me. I can feel blood soaking my shirt and running down my arm. I whine, stumbling forward to grab my gun from the floor where it had fallen as I dealt with the first corpse.
Stumbling forward a bit, I grunt. My gun feels heavy in my hand. Just as the corpse reaches me, I manage to lift my arm to shoot it between the eyes. My gun falls with the body as I lean against the back of a pew.
Could I have subconsciously wanted this on some level, knowing it would end with me joining my family?
I can feel myself weaken as I stumble back towards the altar.
"Connor."
I murmur as I fall to my knees at the altar. My vision is blurring and I can't bring myself to stand. The pain is starting to register as I fall to my hands and knees and crawl towards Connor, falling on my back on his left side.
Darkness is starting to consume me and I know I don't have much time. I'd be with my family soon. I unholster Connor's gun and weakly hold it in my left hand.
Bringing my right hand down, I lace mine and Connor's fingers together.
Veritas and Aequitas intertwined, together once more. I position my hand and gun to the side of my temple as my head comes to rest back on the floor. Looking up, I can barely make out the face of the Jesus statue.
My eyes blink a few times and that's when I see the bright light and feel the warm sensation against my cooling cheek. I forced my eyes to focus as slowly started to gasp for air. As the light gets closer, it's Connor's face I see and Connor's hand on my cheek that I feel.
"Come home, brother. Come home ta me. Tis time, tis ok, let go. We've done our work, now tis time ta be at peace, safe in tha kingdom of tha Lord, sitting among his Saints." Connor's voice whispered.
"For-For-Forgive…m-m-me…" I choke out.
"Shhh, nothin' ta forgive. I love ya brother, I'll be waitin'." Connor's voice whispers.
My breath is labored as I nodded faintly. Pressing the gun against my temple with the last bit of strength I have, I could have sworn he could feel Connor's lips on my forehead, eyes boring into mine, praying with me for God's forgiveness. Prayed that he understood that I didn't want to be a monster.
A smile that matched the vision of Connor's painted my lips as I pulled the trigger.
Darkness, silence, and the eerie vision of the Saints, hands intertwined, faces turned towards each other laying under the feet of Jesus. Truth and Justice reunited for all eternity.
Feel free to find me on Twitter where I roleplay as Murphy MacManus at SaintAequitas.