Today is the day. Today is the day we execute the plan which has taken almost 9 months of our lives to plan. I told my brother to view it as if we’re giving birth: a birth to freedom.
I woke up before my alarm. I could hear the muffled voices from the TV in the living room. She must be passed out on the couch by now. Trying not to wake my brother up, I turned the door knob and proceeded into the living room to turn the TV off. I then picked up bottles and cans scattered all around the floor. It’s cold. It’s always cold in this rotting house. The stench is everywhere. I grabbed a cover to provide her with warmth. I couldn’t get a sight on her face. Her hair was all over the place. I told my brother today would be the last day. All shall be put to rest.
Six-thirty in the morning. We brushed our teeth together. Sometimes I’m grateful he is blind: the scars on our bodies were too painful to see. The only source of light in this bathroom would be the rising sun. I told my brother to put on a smile.
My brother’s stomach growled as we wait for the leftover food I had just put in the oven. I’d always held my breath when opening the fridge. I told my brother the smell of decomposition is not good for our nose. The food too, would be rotten. But we were hungry and all the doors were locked.
It is now eleven thirty in the morning. I figured waiting for her to sober up and get conscious would be a waste of time. With some cable ties we got from under the bed, we managed to tie her up properly. I ordered my brother to take his clothes off, or blood might stain it. Sometimes I’d forget he couldn’t talk and expect for a reply.
My brother was smiling with excitement as I guide his hand to the hammer. It’s a little bigger than his head, but he’s a professional. He’s been obsessed with weapons ever since he could sit up properly. My brother would tear up our walls and put holes on our doors. All those skills without being able to see. And I couldn’t hurt a soul. I told my brother i’d help him clean up the mess. I never once liked gore.
I went to wait in front of the fridge, leaving my brother with mom in the living room. We’d had to endure this for so long, and now is the time we prove our strength. The scars on my arms still itches, and I hate her for it. First hit on the head. I could hear her confusion. The thrill in this rotting house was almost palpable. My brother was too young. Second hit on the head. Third hit on the head. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. I heard a sigh. My brother was merciless.
He came and joined me in the kitchen. We embraced for a while. All shall be put to rest. I told my brother it’s only the both of us now. We knelt in front of the fridge, trying to ignore the stench, and embraced for a while. And for the first time since he was born, my brother laughed.