35. Bad Blood

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35. Bad Blood

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Kevin was dead. He was actually dead.

This was the harshest reality I'd ever had to face.

How foolish of me to think that by some miracle he would be alive. How dumb.

How pathetic.

He was nothing but a bunch of old, dusty bones in a graveyard. That's what he had been for the past two years.

It made sense. All the holes in Kyle's stories. Him not telling me everything. Holding back important details because saying to much would be too risky.

At this point, I was more angry than afraid.

"Why?" I growled. "Why did you do this?"

"Well, the short answer to that is I may be a sociopath... You know what that is, correct?"

I didn't answer him.

"I believe the medically correct term for it now is antisocial personality disorder," Kyle continued.

"What's your point?" I spat.

"I'm trying to explain to you why all this happened," Kyle replied. "You asked why. I'm telling you why."

"Get on with it," I said.

"Don't rush me, brother, I'm trying to be nice here."

"You're no brother of mine."

"That hurts," Kyle said, putting a hand to his chest as if his heart was in pain.

"Are sociopaths even capable of feeling emotional pain?" I questioned.

"Of course," Kyle said. "Why do you think I'm here? Why do you think I've done this?"

"What, someone hurt your feelings?" I challenged.

"I wouldn't be so arrogant with me," Kyle said, pointing the knife in his hand at Travis who was still there on the ground, not moving. "I could kill him before you'd have time to blink."

So Travis was alive.

"Fine," I complied.

"As I was saying," he continued, a smile reappearing on his face. "Yes, for that very reason I was put into a mental hospital; where the crazies go. Wanna know a little family history? Kevin and I actually grew up together. Ya know, before Mom and Dad sent me away."

"How can that be true? Kevin would've remembered you."

"You're right, and he did," Kyle said. "But you see, it took a lot of convincing. All those memories had to be triggered back into his consciousness. He and I were four years old when they put me in that place, and they were so embarrassed of me, they brainwashed him. Made him forget about me. Made him think I never really existed, as if I was an imaginary friend."

"Is that possible?"

"We were four years old, Ricardo," Kyle said to me. "Don't get me wrong, it wouldn't have been an easy task, but they managed to wipe away every trace of my existence in the family. Family photos. Photos of he and I. Art projects. My old clothes. Our bunk bed. Everything that connected me to the family; gone. They told him that I wasn't real. Told him that they would just go along with him pretending to have a twin brother. After a certain amount of time, with enough effort; fooling a four year old into believing that is very possible. And so that's what they did."

"Why would they do all of that? Why would they put you in a nut house and erase you completely as a member of the family?" I asked.

"I had a strange way of having fun as a four year old," Kyle said, another smile creeping on his face. "By the time they had sent me away, I'd killed two cats and a bird."

A horrified expression crossed over my face. "What the hell?"

"Mom and Dad would find out what I did and they'd be all concerned, but of course they would cover it up," he explained. "Didn't want anyone finding out that one of their perfect boys wasn't so perfect. They were terrified of me. And not once did I feel bad or regret what I'd done.

The final straw was when I'd killed our house cat, Tum-Tum. He was a fat cat; very bloody work killing him. And for him, I used a good ol' fork. He couldn't put up much of a fight, like I said, he was fat."

Kyle actually started laughing at this and I felt like I was gonna throw up.

"Anyway, that's when I was sent away to be examined by all these doctors and blah blah blah," Kyle went on. "They told them that I was exhibiting early signs of antisocial personality disorder. Of course it made perfect sense to them, I don't really feel empathy. I didn't speak much. I had an uncanny ability to turn on my four-year-old charm whenever I wanted something. It's like a light switch. On. Off."

"You don't seem to be put off by what you are," I said. "Why not seek help? You're obviously self aware, you know what you're doing, and your illness is not an excuse!"

"I know what I am, Ricky. I'm not in denial," Kyle said. "And I see no reason to be ashamed about it. This is who I am. And any attempt to change me, angers me to no end."

"So what, then?" I went on. "Why target me? What have I done? What has Kevin done?!"

Kyle shook his head. "Poor, naive, Ricky. This isn't just about you! Or Kevin! It's about our parents, my parents. They abandoned me. Left me in a clinic to rot. It took years of convincing, manipulating, pretending to feel anything for anyone, and dumbass medication to end up being approved to transfer to Skiesdale, and once the transfer happened the visits started to dwindle. Eventually, they just stopped all together. Mom and Dad didn't love me anymore and I resented them for it."

"So I was right," I said. "Your feelings were hurt."

"Don't mock me," Kyle said. "What I felt was not sadness. It was rage. Rage that I had been forgotten. Rage that I had to suffer being locked away while Kevin was given the life that I deserved just as much. How spoiled he grew to be. The popularity. The talent. What did I have? What did Mom and Dad leave me with? Even when we were young, they treated Kevin better than me. I remember four/year-old me feeling neglected, but Kevin? He was a real prodigy."

A narcissist.

This is what Kyle was. A characteristic of his condition. I knew enough about sociopathy to deduce that much. He was not being rational. He was putting blame where it didn't belong. I realized in that moment that Kyle was not angry at being "forgotten" because he loved Mom, Dad and Kevin. It was simply because he did not get that attention he craved, being the egoist he was. He was angry because he did not get the life he thought he deserved in his delusional world. He was angry that he couldn't get what he wanted. He was self centered and did not for a moment consider how everyone else involved in this mess could possibly feel.

He did not feel empathy. That was a terrifying fact.

"And beyond that," Kyle continued, "when I finally decided to reach out to Kevin, imagine my rage a little over two years ago, when I found out that Mom and Dad adopted someone else. My replacement. Four years after I'd been out of the picture. You were six when they took you in. Younger than Kevin. You were his perfect little shadow and I was a faint memory in his subconscious, practically nonexistent and written off as a childhood imaginary friend. You took everything from me and our parents let it happen... and Kevin forgot about me."

"So you decided to kill him?"

"I never had good intentions when it came to him. I'd always had plans to kill him. To get back at our, oh so terrible parents. To make them feel pain. To make them suffer. Every single thing for the past two years was carefully calculated. Except for Kevin being beaten by his own pals. That was just lucky, and how great was it that they took him exactly to where we were supposed to meet." Kyle looked behind me at Luke. "Apparently, Kevin liked to share that spot with a few people he was close with. Thanks for getting him there, buddy!"

"Fuck you," Luke said.

"You're quite the spitfire, Luke," Kyle said. "Killing you will be rewarding. I have to get you back for that shit you pulled in the woods."

"Speaking of my friends," I interrupted. "It was you... You were the one who assaulted Danielle."

"She was so easy," Kyle grinned. "Honestly, I wanted more of a challenge, but it was nothing sneaking the drugs into her drink that day in the deli. It had been a risk walking around town, but she actually thought I was Kevin. It was perfect. So I did what I wanted with her when my little remedy took effect. Deep down I'm sure she enjoyed it."

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Luke shouted.

Kyle laughed. "You wanna know the best part? It was that same drug that enabled her death! Someone should've taught her to control her drinking. You never know what someone can slip in when you're not looking. They'll find the traces of it once the autopsy is completed, surely."

"I swear to God," Luke was in rage, trying to no avail to free himself from the rope that bound him to the tree. "You're dead!"

"Wrong," Kyle said, looking smug. "Kevin's dead."

"Who killed Danielle?" I asked.

Kyle arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"There's still a piece of this puzzle missing. You're not telling me something. You and Luke were in the woods with me at the time of her death. You couldn't have possibly killed her. So who did?"

"You should really check those who you're close with," Kyle said. "Tell me, do you know where Raymond is right now?"

"No." This was not an answer to his question. It was a reaction to what he was implying.

"Oh, yes," Kyle chuckled. "He's currently taking care of Mom and Dad. If only he were here to reveal himself to you personally."

"But why?"

"While I personally hate both Mother and Father, Raymond has a vendetta against Mother alone."

"Because of their child?"

Kyle roared with laughter. "You idiot! There is no other child! I lied to you!"

I frowned. "But Raymond said he was gonna have me meet his son; the one he and Mom hid away."

"Lies," Kyle said. "He only said that to reaffirm the story that there was some other kid. It was all a ruse. Just to throw you off our trail. You fell for it beautifully."

"I overheard Mom and Raymond having discussions about a boy. A boy Raymond wanted to bring into the family. It was about you then?"

"Raymond played father figure to me while locked up," Kyle said. "I don't care much to have a father in my life, and honestly Raymond's pretty pathetic, but it didn't take long to reel him into my web. Mom didn't want him anymore because of Dad and it ruined him. So we concocted this entire plan. Ultimately, it's more about our shithead parents than it is you. So be grateful. We hate them more than we hate you."

I was flabbergasted. Kyle was nothing short of a criminal mastermind and I could even see that through his crazy grin. He was a genius.

Evil.

But genius.

"So any other questions? Comments? That just about covers everything, right?" Kyle inquired playfully. "Because now comes the part where I kill all of you."

I gripped the shovel firmly in my hand.

"You want me dead?" I challenged. "Come and get me."

"I've been waiting for this moment," Kyle said. "The moment where I reveal everything and still have the satisfaction of sinking my knife into you, watching as you choke on your last breaths. I even traded the knife I usually use for Kevin's tonight. I took it from his corpse the night I gutted him. It'll almost be poetic using it to do the same to you."

"Only one of us is dying here tonight and it won't be me," I retorted.

"You think you stand a chance against me?" Kyle scoffed. "You think you actually have the gall to kill me?"

"That's the plan."

"You know what? I think I'll be more creative with you," Kyle said. "I'm gonna stab you in your eyeballs to at least save you the sight of me plunging my knife into your chest over and over. I'm gonna pull your insides out and put them on display at your front door. I'm gonna rip your intestines from your body and drape them over Kevin's tombstone for decoration. And when I'm done I'll kill Luke and your new friend here. Sayora will come later, but only after I get what I want from her. She'll get the same treatment as Danielle, and you know what, Ricky? She's not gonna have any choice but to take it."

I gritted my teeth, seething in anger. My adrenaline was pumping at an all time high.

This was it. He wasn't gonna get away with it. Any of it. And he sure as hell wasn't gonna do anything to Sayora or my friends. Not while I was still breathing. And it was on my agenda to make sure Raymond got what was coming to him, too.

I just prayed it wasn't too late to still save my parents.

"¿Empezamos, hermano?" Kyle asked.

I held the shovel up as if it were a bat in response.

He looked amused and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of groaning.

On the ground beside him, Travis began to stir. For just a moment, Kyle's attention was on Travis.

I seized the moment.

I charged toward a distracted Kyle and swung. The shovel narrowly missed his head as he ducked. He lost his balance though, no doubt caught by surprise, falling back onto his butt.

I raised the shovel over my head and was about to swing downward, but Kyle was not so easily beaten. He kicked out his leg, tripping me and I fell to the ground, losing the grip of the shovel in my hands.

He took advantage of this, as he still had the knife in one hand, crawled over in a flash and swung it down.

Reacting quickly, I rolled over, away from the sharp tip of the weapon, just in time as it pierced the dirt where I had just been laying.

Kyle growled in frustration.

I scrambled to my feet and he did the same, charging at me and wailing like a madman before I had any time to think of what to do next.

He tried the knife again, but I caught him by the wrist with one hand before it could do any damage. With my free hand, I jabbed him in his stomach, earning a groan.

He grabbed me by the wrist this time, disabling me from punching him again. I struggled to break free from his grasp, all the while trying to also control the fact that we were wrestling for the knife.

He headbutted me out of nowhere and that was enough of a recoil from me to give him the upper hand. He broke free from our hold and swung the knife.

Like him, I managed to duck, ignoring the pain.

He swung again. I dodged.

And again. Dodge. And again. Dodge.

I had no idea I had such good reflexes, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't think it was mostly adrenaline.

Finally, he'd had enough and settled on swinging a fist instead, which landed and I almost toppled back to the ground. He was unrelenting, punching me the same way once more. This time I did hit the ground.

"Ricardo!" Sayora cried.

"Get up, man!" I heard Luke encourage.

The taste of copper was in my mouth now and I spit out the warm liquid that was my blood.

Then there was a kick to my face, the impact making me flip over onto my back. There was an unpleasant tingling accompanied with the pain from the blow.

Kyle hovered over me, and placed a foot right on the wound where he'd previously stabbed me at the church.

I shrieked. It had not healed all the way and disturbing it too much meant searing pain.

He pressed into me, applying as much pressure as he could, twisting his foot back and forth in a manner in which one would do to a bug to really ensure it was dead after stepping on it.

I grabbed that leg and pulled, making him lose balance and fall to the ground again. I sat up and went over to straddle him.I punched him, over and over, as hard as I could.

Right hook. Left hook. Right hook. Left hook. Right hook. Left hook.

I forced myself to stop, noticing that he was no longer moving.

He was laid there, seemingly unconscious now.

He was no longer gripping the knife, but instead it was just there in the palm of his hand. I grabbed it, contemplating if I should just ensure his death myself. I could do it. I could end him right here. Right now.

The knife suddenly felt heavy in my grasp.

Could I do it? I knew I should do it. But I couldn't bring myself to make the move.

I cursed at myself and got up, making my way to Sayora and Luke.

"He's not dead," was all I could manage to say as I started cutting at the rope.

"We know," Sayora said. "It's okay."

"It's good you didn't kill him," Luke said darkly. "I wanna do it."

Hearing Luke say those words was scary. But I didn't say anything. I couldn't blame him for feeling that way.

I looked back after a couple of moments, just to make sure Kyle hadn't moved. Thankfully, he hadn't. Who knew for how long that would continue to be true, though.

After some moments of sawing away at the rope with Kevin's knife like a maniac, I was able to get through it. Sayora and Luke stood up and it just felt natural that we all hugged each other for a moment.

We broke our embrace when we heard Travis groaning again.

"Oh shit," I muttered.

I raced over to him, past Kyle. Sayora and Luke were right on my tail.

"Trav, you okay, dude?" I asked him, helping him stand up.

"I'll be fine," he murmured, a hand on his head. "Son of a bitch always manages to sneak up on me."

"He got the jump on all of us," Sayora said.

"Guys we have to move, and we need to do it quickly," I said. "Raymond has my parents somewhere and if anything happens to them..." I couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Well, what are we gonna do with Kyle?" Asked Sayora.

"He's not dead, we make him tell us where the hell Ricardo's parents are!" Luke suggested.

"He's not just gonna tell us!" Sayora pointed out. "He has no reason to."

"Say he doesn't tell us, what do we do then?" Travis asked, wincing as if it hurt to talk. "Hold him hostage? Call the police? None of us have our phones, he took them."

"The car," I said. "When I pulled up, there was a car here already. It has to be the one he uses. I bet he's keeping them there."

"Makes sense," Luke said. "We could go get them, but that risks leaving him unattended. If he wakes up during that time, he's gonna runaway and he could go anywhere!"

"The police can deal with that," I said. "Right now the priority is my parents. We get the phones. We call for help. And somehow, someway, we find my parents. That's what we're doing."

I could tell that this plan didn't exactly sit well with everyone, but what else was there to do? We had to make a decision, and this seemed to be the best one.

"Fine," Luke said. "Let's—"

"Shit," Travis whispered, wide eyed and staring behind us.

We turned to see what had him spooked, and there stood Kyle. The look on his face was almost unreadable. Mostly because it was bloody and bruised. It was a look of anger I supposed, but it was extremely subdued. Like he was hiding it, trying to stay calm.

"That hurt," Kyle said, his infamous smile finally presenting itself.

"Screw this," Luke said, marching toward Kyle. "You're a dead man."

Sayora and I demanded that he stop, but he ignored us.

That was when Travis reached between the hem of his jeans, pulled out something metal and fired it in the air.

It was like a mini explosion at this proximity. On reflex, I put both hands up to my ears, frowning at Travis, who was now aiming the hand gun at Kyle.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" I asked, slowly pulling my hands away.

"My dad's safe," he said.

"But—"

"Not the time, Ricky," Travis said.

Luke looked dumbfounded and then a wicked smile spread across his face as he turned back to

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