Page 48 of Unhinged Cain

Now I had way too much time to think about all the things I would’ve done differently over the past twenty-three years. Was there a fork in the road that would’ve brought me to a beach in the Cayman Islands instead of being locked in this room? If there was, what I wanted to know was how the fuck did I get back there and veer off this road? What I really wanted to know more than anything else was, who in the universe did I piss off to end up here? Why did it seem like no one really wanted me but this one sick man, and what did that say about me?

CAIN

“Shit,” I muttered.

The scent of frying meat hit me in the face as I opened the door to my home, announcing Abel’s presence. It meant Abel hadn’t gone home as I’d told him to do. I didn’t want to deal with my brother this evening. He was like cheap cologne. A dab here and there could be tolerable, maybe even enjoyable, but too much, and you wanted to throw up, toss the bottle in the garbage, and cut off the body part that now reeked worse than dog shit.

“What are you still doing here,” I asked, walking into the kitchen.

Abel turned to look at me, his face twisted in confusion. “Is this a trick question? I know how you like your fucking mind games.”

Abel turned back to whatever he had in the pan, and even though there was no music playing, he wiggled slightly back and forth like he had bugs in his boxers. He hadn’t changed much since we were kids. Abel didn’t know the meaning of ‘sit still.’

“No, it’s not a trick question. I told you to go home.” Crossing the kitchen, I yanked open the refrigerator door, and all the bottles rattled.

“Yeah, but you never mean it,” Abel said as I cracked the cap off a beer and chugged half of it down.

“No, I always mean it. You just have a nasty habit of not listening. This seems to be a recurring argument between us.”

Peering over my brother’s shoulder, I determined that he was making some sort of meat and macaroni dish. Grudgingly, I had to admit that it smelled decent. Leaning against the counter, I stared at my brother’s profile, which was identical to mine. I wondered, and not for the first time, if that’s why I had chosen not to kill him.

“You need to lighten up, man. You’re always so…” Abel waved the spatula around, and I watched the little droplets of sauce and meat drip onto the floor. “That, right there, that look on your face. You’re uptight, bro. It’s a little bit of sauce on your floor. It’s not the end of the world.”

“That’s a matter of opinion. Do you see me going over to your house and messing with the things you like?” Unable to stop myself, I grabbed a piece of paper towel and wiped up the red speckles from the white tile.

“Whatever. So when are we going to play with the new girl? I really wanna make that bitch gag on my cock. Ahhhh! What the fuck?” Abel yelled as I snatched my brother by the throat. Pushing him up against the counter, I held him firm and snagged the knife from the counter, pressing it against his cheek. “Have you gone fuckin crazy?”

“I know you don’t normally listen to me.” I pressed the flat cold edge of the blade harder into his skin. Abel’s eyes flicked between the sharp point of the knife near his eye and my face. “So, I’m going to say this really slow, so you have time to process it. If you touch my prize, if you so much as breathe the wrong way near her—I’m going to gut you, and then I’m going to desecrate your corpse. She is my prize, and I’m not sharing her with you. If you have a problem with that, you know where the door is, but don’t fucking test me, brother.”

I pressed the sharp edge into his cheek until a single droplet of blood formed on the tip of the blade.

“Even our bond has limitations.”

His eyes went wide, and I held still as I watched the words swim around his thick skull. Once I was certain he wouldn’t push this subject anymore, I stepped back and went to the sink to wash the blood off.

“Fuck man, what has gotten into you?” Abel dabbed at the dot of blood, smearing it down his cheek before looking at his fingers. In true Abel fashion, he licked it off his fingers as he glared at me.

“What’s gotten into me is the fact that you don’t listen, and you repeatedly push my boundaries. Normally, I’d play along and let you do what you want.” I placed the knife back in the same spot I’d picked it up from before relaxing against the counter again. “But, dear brother, this is one topic I’m not budging on, and I thought you should know the line that you are dancing precariously close to—Kirby is my prize. My. Top. Prize. I decide what I want to be done with her and when. You may never get a taste if that’s what I decide, so get used to it, or get out.”

Abel grumbled as he turned to face the stove and the pan. “I swear, every year you get older, the less fun you become.” His movements were jerky as he stirred dinner again before dividing it into two bowls. “Fine, I won’t touch her.”

“You promise?”

“What are we, fucking two?” Abel said and then laughed. “Okay, sometimes I act like I’m two. Yeah, I fucking promise.”

“Great, then let’s eat,” I said, scooping the bowl off the counter and heading to the table.What just happened between us was what I liked to call an Abel training moment. When we were younger, these moments where Abel needed to be tuned in were much more frequent. I liked to use the ‘elephant and the string’ analogy when it came to Abel’s training. He always had to think he was chained and couldn’t escape my rules, similar to the situation Sunshine was in right now in my playroom. As Abel had aged and his erratic and spontaneousness had lessened, so had my training. The majority of the time now, I only had to use a string to remind him to behave. The issue was that every now and then, my brother tested the string, and he would need to be reminded he actually had a chain around his throat, and I controlled whether he breathed the next day again.

I took a bite of my food and watched the disaster that was my brother shovel the meal into his mouth like it was the last time he’d see food and shook my head. Usually, I didn’t mean the things I threatened. My brother was a pain in my ass, but I never really thought about killing him. Not that I ever let Abel know that, but tonight I’d meant every word. If he stole this prize from me…stole the one thing that had managed to spark a semblance of interest other than blood in my mind and body, I would kill him and mount his eyes on my mantle.

“Did you want to do something tonight? We could try something new and go hunting together.”

I cocked a brow at my brother.

“You’re taking people too often, Abel. You’re going to draw attention. What’s sparked this change in your behavior,” I asked as I chewed on another mouthful of food.

“Fuck man, why are you always on my case?”

I flicked the fork around in my hand, and Abel watched it closely, knowing he was nearing my limits. “Stop avoiding and answer the question.”