Fratricide

Among the living, it is a commonly held belief that the passage of time is relative. It is felt by every schoolchild enduring double-maths on a Friday afternoon, every employee forced to spend another day at a Health and Safety seminar and every spouse begrudgingly spending holidays with the in-laws.

It is known more acutely by those who had recently felt the embrace of death.

For Doug Howarth, it sometimes seemed months would pass in the time it took to blink an eye and other times he could watch his widow take one breath which lasted hours. Surely this was the reason Steph was quick to find comfort in the arms of Adam, Doug’s brother. While it seemed to him he had been dead only a short time, he had to believe his widow had mourned a year or more before believing she had found love again.

Yet each passing moment since his death was as close in his memory as the present, almost as though he was experiencing time in a new way; as if everything that had happened or was happening were unfolding simultaneously. He remembered the literal and emotional shock of the poorly-wired electric drill which had stopped his living heart; he remembered the wake held in his and Steph’s home during which his wife had ranted her frustration at James, Doug’s father; he remembered these as keenly as watching the kiss she and Adam were now sharing.

From Doug’s perspective, all these events could have occurred within the same afternoon. It was only the tell-tale signs of Adam’s changing facial hair and Steph’s different lipstick and eyeshadow colour that informed him they were, in the land of the living, separated by weeks or months.

‘You are the most remarkable woman I have ever met,’ Doug heard Adam say.

Steph traced a long-nailed finger down Adam’s cheek, following the line of his neatly cut beard.

‘If I had lived through even half of what you have,’ Adam continued, ‘I would struggle to get out of bed each day. Yet you, you embrace life with a passion I have never before known.’

He pulled Steph into his chest and kissed her forehead.

‘I don’t know where you get your strength from,’ he whispered, ‘but I swear to you, my love, I will never let you hurt again.’

Steph sighed quietly, the soft and sensual noise which Doug had loved hearing when he would hold her that close.

‘Losing JJ was hard,’ she breathed. ‘But once I met Doug, I knew I could find happiness again. You remind me of him. You have the same big heart, full of compassion.’

Adam stifled a sob. His eyes glistened at Doug’s name and his voice was strained.

‘Is it wrong that I feel for you this way?’

Steph lifted her head to Adam. She smiled, a sad yet beautiful sight.

‘No more wrong than my love for you. I still feel the same way for Doug, believe me I do. But if he were here now, I think he would give us his blessing.’ She burrowed her head into Adam’s chest again.

Yes, Doug wanted to say. Be happy, darling. More than any other person in this world, you deserve it.

‘I cannot shake the guilt, though,’ Adam said. Tears were rolling from his eyes now.

Doug felt a sudden shift. He sensed Adam carried a greater burden than only falling for his brother’s widow.

‘The drill I lent Doug…’ Adam said through his tears. ‘The one that… that killed him…’

The pain of the electrical current coursing through his body came back to Doug, as real now as it was when he had died.

Steph pulled away from Adam and backed toward the fireplace.

‘What are you saying, Adam?’

‘Please believe me,’ Adam sobbed. ‘I would never have hurt him. I loved him. I didn’t mean for him to die.’

Memories flooded Doug’s mind, times from when he was alive. Unlike his experiences since death, remembering details of his life were foggy and disjointed. There was no sense of order, just myriad scenes of his past; Adam’s jealous eyes at Doug’s wedding, the punctured tyre of his childhood bike which Adam had envied, Adam’s lingering looks every time he was in Steph’s presence.

What did you do? Doug thought.

‘What are you saying?’ Steph repeated. She was pressed against the mantel now, hands behind her back.

‘I didn’t know the drill was faulty…’ He took a step toward Steph.

You? You killed me?

‘Nobody could have known that,’ Steph said, the tension plain in her voice.

Get out, darling, Doug willed. Go! Now! Get away from this murderer.

Adam took another step, raising an arm to Steph.

The set of cast iron fire tools clanged against one another as Steph grabbed the poker from its stand. She lunged forward and swung the weapon at Adam’s head, landing a blow on his temple.

Adam staggered, blinked rapidly, then crumbled to the ground.

Run! Doug silently shouted. Go now, get out while the sonofabitch is down.

But his wife did not hear him.

She took a step closer to Adam, raised the fire poker and brought it down heavily onto his head. Bone fractured. Blood splattered. Steph struck again, and again, and again.

Doug felt neither remorse for his dying sibling nor joy for the vengeance Steph had claimed. All Doug felt was the relief that his wife was safe.

He watched with pride as she staggered to the bookcase and looked at a framed picture of Jim Junior, JJ.

‘Two down, big brother,’ she panted. ‘Just the wife to go then I’ll get the bastard that raped our mother and refused to accept you as his own.’