The Mercy of Birds

CHAPTER 27: THE HUNT FOR THE KILLER III

He would pretend to eat for Nicholas' sake. He would silently glare at Cameron, admonishing him for not keeping his act that he had been doing for years when they all needed it the most. He would laugh until it stung and he would drink that horrible champagne as many times as it took that it would contend Nicholas. He would say some stupid things and remove his most reticent self-preservation just for the hell of it, because he knew it was the last time, but no, there was only more devastation as a terminus.

Oh, how he wanted to selfishly shout, "Fuck you, Cameron, for doing this to us! Fuck you, Nicholas, for leaving me here with my thoughts! Fuck you, Clementine, for murdering our dad and that fucking delivery boy! You ruined my fucking life!" but he had too much of a consideration for the neighbors to do so. He couldn't bring himself to destroy other people's peace no matter how much he envied what they had.

Last night, when he couldn't bear to leave the food to go bad, he had knocked each of their doors to dole out multiple plates, and from their porch he could glimpse at every life the little boy within him longed to have. It ached inside, something had battered his ribcage to wreck his heart and it left a hollow cavity there with jagged edges, and when he thought that he had made a progress on patching up the damage, the letter came in bludgeoning headlong, and the last bit of his guard caved in to ashes.

... but I will never forget that December 25 is your birthday—no...

I believe in each path you've chosen for yourself—no!

If we ever meet then, will you explain to me about it—stop!

All three of you are always on my mind—shut up!

Victor surged up from his slump, the agony flared inside him as he snatched the letter in the envelope from the table and crushed it in his fist. The papers were pulverized by his hands but something inside remained intact no matter how hard he tried to crush it. He dived through the corrugation and pulled out a bracelet of black and gray square-cut stone threaded together by a woven string; a single, metallic feather dangled down in the middle as a bauble.

He faltered, his throat clogged up... so I made the bracelet for the both of you—why? Why do you have to do this to me? Do you know how much we hurt, do you know how much I hurt because of you?

A reverberating sound of a car engine emerged from outside the house and Victor jerked up, abandoning the crumpled paper and the bracelet on the table as he strode towards the parlor to find Nicholas barging in through the door.

His hair was disheveled, golden locks scattered away from the loose tie on the back of his neck. Shadow casted over his features, making the stubble on his jaw appear like a full-grown, scruffed beard. Dark eyebags hung beneath his hazel irises, wild and bright as a twinning full moon against the night sky.

"Where've you been?" Victor asked him, taking in his appearance. He was in dishabille, wearing the clothes that were far from being able to protect him from the cold weather he had materialized from. Apparently, he hadn't even bothered to grab a jacket when he stormed out of the house last night and only clad himself in dark jeans and a black, cotton t-shirt, unbuttoned to his chest. He didn't even care to roll down the long sleeves to cover himself. Despite that, he still appeared sturdy in his feet, but he couldn't go on like this.

"Are you okay?" Victor asked him again, his voice tangible with deep concern.

Nicholas disregarded his question though, instead patted him by the shoulder and marched into the kitchen, forcing Victor to follow him behind. "I'm going to meet my lawyer and I want you to come with me."