I remembered something.

The other memories were easier to talk to you about since they never really held much weight on my personality, if you get what I’m saying. But this memory dealt a lot with who I was, where I came from, and what happened to me. It freaked me the fuck out, to be honest. I didn’t like remembering things like that, so I kept it at the back of my mind until now.

It came back to me while I was dreaming, just like most of them usually did. I was dreaming about these killer cows moments before, but then suddenly I was back in East Eldon. The crops the cows were destroying morphed into a parking lot, the tall burning grass turning into a cute diner and the cows into laughing people with their families or dates, walking to their cars.

I stood staring at a particular couple sitting at an old wooden bench by the diner doors. One of them was an older man, probably in his late twenties, with perfectly coiffed blonde hair and a cigarette hanging between his lips. He wore designer jeans, dress shoes, and a nice shirt, causing him to stick out like a sore thumb.

The guy he was with, however, seemed like he belonged there. His brown hair was rowdy and unkempt, giving him more boyish features though I was sure he was older. He sported faded dark jeans and a grey sweater, the exact same outfit Cillian forced me into when I first opened my eyes.

The whole thing finally struck. That guy was me.

You would think that it would be creepy staring at your twenty-two year old self talk and laugh as if he was just another guy on the street. I didn’t feel that creeped out, though. I just had this hollow feeling that settled uncomfortably at the pit of my stomach, kind of like that feeling you get when you know something bad is going to happen in a movie.

I could tell that something bad was going to happen. It should’ve been expected, especially since it dealt with me. Even so, I couldn’t seem to look away from him. My mind began to work, pumping out past conversations and observations in attempt to fit the pieces together. Why was Cillian so scared when he first saw me? What was the reason behind the guilt in his eyes? Why did he want me in those exact clothes?

The word death kept thrumming at the back of my head, but I just didn’t want to believe it. Not yet, anyway. So instead, I kept staring at the twenty-two year old me, happily naive as he joked around with Cigarette. It was kind of sad and I sort of wished he would stop smiling. It made everything harder to take in.

Cigarette took Twenty-Two’s hand, holding it tenderly. I heard them clearly even though I stood a few feet away, swallowing hard when he asked, have you told your parents yet?

Twenty-Two shook his head. Of course he wouldn’t. He was just as much of a coward as I was, perhaps even greater. It pissed me off just looking at him. I finally knew how Cillian felt about me; I probably even understood him. If I were him, I would’ve cut me out of the family tree long before. I was nothing but shame and the family didn’t need that.

Twenty-Two had lost his smile, looking down at their entwined fingers dejectedly. Cigarette started talking about something stupid like running off and never telling anyone. He obviously had money, which he noted, so they could get an apartment or something outside of East Eldon and be happy. It was the most idiotic thing I had heard in a while, and I’m sure the past me thought so as well. He just couldn’t say it.

Twenty-Two gave off a short, distant laugh and shook his head again. Ma and Dad aren’t the ones I’m afraid of. They’d accept it soon enough. But Cillian...Cillian won’t have it. He won’t.

Cigarette started talking again, trying to comfort and coax him into his ‘flawless plan’. But Twenty-Two was already stuck knee high in the horror, too deep to even listen to what was spewing through the man’s lips. I could see it all on his face; he felt the pain before Cillian even hit him. Cillian didn’t even have to be there to make you feel like battered pancake mix. Just the thought of him could send you off with a black eye.

Twenty-Two looked over at Cigarette and wiped the fear from his face with his free hand. The gears in his head were running at full speed, judging whether to take Cigarette’s offer or not.

I wish I could tell you that he was smart enough to say no, but I would be lying. It even embarrasses me to this day that I went along with that ridiculous plan. Cigarette was more ecstatic than I was, lifting Twenty-Two from the bench and towards a slick black sports car.

I started to relax then, thinking that I would be able to wake up soon enough without anything to cry over. But then the roar of a van shook me at my core and startled the tranquility of the parking lot, stopping right in front of the two men.

Cillian hopped out of it, going straight to Twenty-Two. His face looked smoother and his hair was longer, but his eyes were still filled with the same heated emotion that could send you trembling with just one glare.

He took Twenty-Two by the back of his neck. I swear, I nearly pissed myself right when he did that. I could see that the past me knew that nothing was going to be alright, but he didn’t bother fighting. He looked back at Cigarette and smiled through some pained expression as if it would change something. It was convincing enough for someone as blind as Cigarette, but not me.

Not Cillian.

He shoved Twenty-Two into the passenger seat of the van. Twenty-Two asked something stupid like how did you find me but his only answer was a hand to the back of his head. He should have known that he wasn’t going to get away from getting beat. Nothing was ever okay when it came to Cillian.

The scene faded in time with the roar of the van, leaving me in complete blackness for a total of two seconds. I thought it was over and I was finally going to be allowed to wake up, but instead, a new scene formed. I was standing on rocks overlooking a lake, the moonlight causing the water to glisten and sparkle as it moved in rhythm with the soft wind.

It would have been a beautiful scene if it wasn’t for the brothers standing at the lakeshore, one on his knees while the other stood gripping a knife and a rope. Cillian put the knife between his teeth and started to shrug Twenty-Two’s clothing off of him, ignoring the negotiations and pleas he spewed.

He threw the clothes elsewhere and watched Twenty-Two with eyes full of detestation and shame, as if he was the most disgusting thing that had ever graced the planet. Cillian brought Twenty-Two’s hands and feet behind his back, his body growing stiff whenever a sob would escape from his kid brother’s lips. The air filled with words like please and it wasn’t what it looked like, running by my ears over and over until I wanted to hit him too. The pleas didn’t stop Cillian from hogtying him, though. It still makes me sick whenever I think about it.

I’m going to tell Ma that some punks jumped you, Cillian said as soon as he finished, his voice surprisingly shaky. I’m going to tell her that they left your clothes by the van and that’s how I knew. I’m also going to make that bastard of yours swear not to tell anyone about seeing me in the parking lot. No one will know, so don’t worry about it and go peacefully, okay?

But Twenty-Two couldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t stop shaking. Cillian closed his eyes for a moment and cursed out loud, kicking his brother as he told him to shut up. But he didn’t. With one swift movement, Cillian glided the blade across his upper body; all the way from his abdomen to his shoulder blade.

Jesus, the screams were so terrible that I had to look away. I was close enough to hear the abnormal sound of the blade cutting through human skin, but I wasn’t far enough to deafen the wails coming from a dying man. I don’t think I cried, though. Even if I did, I don’t remember it. Things were pretty blurry and it was getting hard to breathe.

By the time I looked back up again, Twenty-Two was barely hanging on. I stared at myself as I lay in a pool of my own blood, gasping for air. I was broken and bloodied, angry gashes carving a permanent story into my body. The knife slipped from Cillian’s hands as he fell to the floor, crawling away from the body as if it would eat him if he didn’t.

For a moment, I thought I heard him crying.

It’s just honour killing, Jack. I’m doing us all a favour, he managed to say. I wouldn’t have to do this if you just came out normal. Why couldn’t you just be normal? I know Ma didn’t raise no dick sucker. I know it.

I knew that I would’ve spat right in his eyes if I could’ve. I wished that I could’ve cursed him dry, but I could barely move my body; much less could I form words.

So all I could do was lay there, pathetically gasping for life, as I allowed my blood to leak into the churning lake.

 ***

By the time I woke up, I was drenched from head to toe in sweat. I woke up with a start, my upper body shooting up abnormally as if I was part of an exorcism or something.

Part of my mind was already trying to forget what I had seen. I wanted to go back to routine again and act like that night never happened. I wanted to go downstairs for breakfast before chucking corn out in the sun, but things were notably different. The air was thicker, drying my lungs with every breath I took. My body felt tense and rigid, and I noticed that my bed was warmer. It was only then did I realise that I wasn’t alone.

Keenan sat beside me with his head resting against the headboard, watching me carefully like a doctor would with his patient. I let out a yelp and nearly fell out of the damn bed, cursing him as I did so. Keenan only looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

I didn’t really get used to that whole faerie thing. It was hard to tell if he did things because he wanted to, or if there was some kind of reason behind it. I don’t want you going off analyzing why he was in my goddamn bed, though. I don’t want you to kill yourself over it. Besides, there are things in life that are better off not knowing.

“You smell,” Keenan said, yet he didn’t move an inch away from me. I didn’t either. Any other time I would’ve, but I wasn’t feeling up to it at that moment.

“I had a nightmare,” I told him. “I wanted to wake up but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t let me.”

His eyes held a questioning look. “A nightmare or a memory?”

“What’s the difference?”

Despite my mood, Keenan smiled. “I never knew you were into blondes.”

“You were looking?”

“I wasn’t looking, for Christ’s sake,” he responded with a roll of his eyes. “Cillian already told me all about that night. I guess I shouldn’t make a joke out of it.” Keenan sighed, glancing down at his fingers. “I’ve seen terrible things done to innocent people. Beheading, murder, rape, massacres, children killing their own mothers, or fathers killing their own sons. I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine, but I’ve never felt sorry towards any of them. But here I am, feeling empathetic for a man who still cries like a kid.”

“He said it was goddamn honour killing,” I said, spitting out the words like I tasted something bitter. “He thought it was alright since I was...he told my parents...”

Keenan covered my eyes with his hand, drawing my head closer to him. “Don’t go off like a sprinkler again, Jack. You were being so tough before. You’re going to have to continue doing that. It’s most important that you’re tough now, so that means no tears.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

He only laughed at my comment. “It’s the ending scene; the big show stopper. The moment Cillian wakes up, he’s going to come in here and get you. He’s going to try to finish the job. You know that, don’t you?”

I did, but I didn’t want to face it. Not by myself.

“I can’t help you with this one, Jack,” Keenan continued. “It’s all you this time.”

I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so I tried fighting his hand off of me instead. “What do you think you’re doing?” I snapped at him when he wouldn’t budge. “I’m not in the mood for any games right now, so just leave me alone for once.”

“Are you scared of dying?”

I stopped moving then. For some reason, it felt like he knocked the wind out of me.

“Aren’t you afraid, Jack?”

I cleared my throat, trying to sound tougher than I actually was. “Leave me alone, won’t you? I’m not in the mood for this.”

He didn’t end up leaving me alone, if that’s what you’re thinking. What happened next is kind of embarrassing and I don’t really like talking about that sort of thing, so I’ll just come right out and say it.

He kissed me. It came sudden and quick, with no warning whatsoever. I couldn’t really get my thoughts in order, but my body still managed to move on its own, relaxing to his touch as if I’ve felt it that way before. To be honest, it was easier than I thought to kiss him; to try out the shape of his lips on mine, to allow him to do his thing and just follow along. Even though I knew it was wrong—believe me, all of it was very wrong—I never pulled away even when I felt his tongue dangerously approach mine.

He was a good kisser, to say the least. I mean, it was obvious he had experience where I lacked. He uncovered my eyes like it was supposed to do something, but I was still trapped in the darkness. I didn’t dare look at him because I knew that if I did, I’d probably go numb and lose all sense of feeling.

Trust me, that was the last thing I wanted to lose at that moment. Jesus, his hands seemed to be at all places at once. I won’t go into detail on where he went, since I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear it. I feel kind of embarrassed talking about it, anyway.

I wanted to keep going at it for as long as we could, but something felt off about the whole thing. With the way his mouth moved and the grip he had on my shirt, it was obvious he wasn’t doing this for fun. It felt desperate and forced, like someone paying off a debt.

It finally occurred to me that he wasn’t doing it because he wanted to. He was doing it because he had to.

He thought I was going to die. It was plainly obvious; he didn’t have hope in me anymore. The kiss was just some kind of pathetic parting gift, like I was a kid dying from a terminal disease and this was the only way he could send me off.

Even though it kind of pissed me off, I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want him to stop. I was human, after all, and we always seem to want the things that aren’t good for us.

If you were just anyone and you brought this up, I would tell you that Keenan took advantage of my situation and was the biggest bastard for doing it. He knew that I was feeling too weak to even push him off or anything, so that’s why he did it. But since you’re not just anyone, I will admit to you that I liked it. I liked it a lot.

But none of that matters in reality, at least not in mine. Shit still manages to hit the fan whether you want it to or not. Keenan pulled away just as the bedroom door slammed open, the smell of dried blood and burning wood filling the room.

He looked down at me with an expression I couldn’t comprehend, whispering, “Showtime.”