As We Are | Book 2

Confessions of the Dead

Chapter Twenty-Six

Confessions of the Dead

I take small, slow breaths and I force my knees to hold me upright, even though I feel like I'm about to pass out.

I've lost all feeling on my feet and in my heart.

My body is numb and my mind is blank.

I feel everything yet nothing at once. I feel myself sway side to side a little.

It's crazy how much impact a few words can have. Jack is apparently my brother, and that in itself, has hit me harder than a ton of bricks.

"You-You're my brother?" I hear myself ask faintly.

"Yes. I am," he says firmly.

"Chris do you want to sit down? You look like you're gonna be sick," says Mum.

I shake my head without looking at her, unable to unlatch my eyes from Jack's face.

I stare at him wordlessly, unable to believe that this man before me is somehow my brother.

I close my eyes and I look to my feet.

"How?" I ask.

"Huh?" he says dimly.

"How, how are you my brother?!" I don't understand why I'm so agitated and where all this anger is coming from.

If anything, I should be glad that there's another piece of my father on this earth.

Jack looks to my mother and she nods.

"We have the same Dad. Patrick McKenzie? He was in and out of my mother's life a little while after you were born. He got my mother knocked up... and then he... y'know..."

I nod. I know the rest of my Dad's tragic story.

"So Dad was cheating on you Mum?" I ask bluntly turning to my mother as heat rises from my chest.

My mother nods with tears in her eyes, "He was going through a hard time Chris. It was just after we lost your brother and the shop wasn't doing so well. I had no idea but the guilt must've eaten him alive-"

"So he made things worse by being unfaithful to you?! What kind of man?!-" I bite my tongue.

I shut my eyes tightly and I take a deep breath.

I remind myself to respect the dead. To respect my late father, no matter how messed up he was.

Fucking hell. I thought I knew the guy I called my father. But... I now realise that I can't use the descriptions and memories of someone else to build the image of the father I never knew.

"I'm sorry for you to find out this way..." says Jack.

I look at his large jaw covered in dark stubble, at his crooked nose, then into his brown eyes, still unable to fathom the fact that we are brothers.

He looks nothing like me, or my Dad, but maybe he takes after his mother.

"It isn't your fault," I say blandly.

"I don't remember what he was like either y'know, just that he had this shop. I visit it when I find myself at a loss," says Jack's voice.

I look at him and I try to force even a faint smile, but my stone cold face doesn't falter.

He must be the figure I saw through the window a few weeks ago when I stopped outside the shop.

"I know what it's like to grow up without a father and to feel abandoned so... I had a really crappy life too but I want you to know that I understand how you feel and where you're coming from," says Jack casually.

"I don't think you do," I say bluntly.

I don't mean to be rude, but this guy is rubbing me the wrong way.

I feel like he is speaking without empathy, not meaning the words he is saying when he is speaking so explicitly about my life that he knows nothing about and it's making me extremely uncomfortable.

Maybe I'm angry because I'm annoyed at his existence or what he is a product of, or maybe I'm just heated because I've been lied to for so long. Fooled by the memory of the father who was dead before I even knew what life was.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," I scoff as I turn around and exit the shop without a second look at anyone.

I cross the street as the wind howls in the trees.

The dark clouds covering the sky perfectly mimicking how I feel. Miserable.

I walk past my car and I turn into a small street, walking briskly in the opposite direction of the harsh wind as it continuously slaps my face.

I walk to the end of the street and I sit on a lonely bench in a deserted park.

I pull up my hood over my head and I close my eyes, trying to calm my very erratic mind.

I feel an unmeasurable amount of pain with the deadly mix of loss, anger and confusion.

'Chris, I'm your half-brother, your dad's son.' Jack's voice repeats over and over in my mind and I can't get it to stop.

My hands shake, not from the cold, but from the fury emerging from the pit of my stomach.

I bite my finger to stop myself from screaming and resist the urge to turn back around and punch Jack in the face.

What the hell is wrong with me? I've never wanted to punch a stranger in the face, let alone my newfound brother.

I accidently bite onto my finger a little too hard. I feel my teeth pierce the skin and blood seeps through.

I close my eyes again and I feel a warm body sit beside me on the bench. By her sweet scent and her calming presence, I already know it's Desirae.

"Well, that went well," she says sarcastically.

Her voice immediately sends a wave of ease on my mind.

She looks at my bleeding finger and her eyes widen.

"Chris...."

"I'm okay... well physically anyway."

"Tell me what's on your mind Chris."

"A lot... I just... I feel so betrayed!" I scream.

"By your father?"

"By life!" I throw my head back and I shut my eyes tightly.

The silence in the atmosphere is disturbed when it starts to lightly rain.

"It seems that no matter how old I get or how successful I become, something from my past always has to come back to haunt me Des, and I'm tired, I'm so fucking tired!" I cry.

"I-I just, I don't know what to do, I'm sick of believing lies and being tortured by those I love and having the world ripped from underneath my feet whenever things start looking right again," I say, my voice breaking, "there's only so much I can take!"

I'm overwhelmed with emotion, feeling like I've hit rock bottom.

"It hurts Des," I sniffle, "so much and I-I don't know what to do anymore. I don't even know the man my father was and he didn't even see me as enough reason to stay."

I start crying heavy heartedly.

Desirae wraps her arms around me and puts my head against her chest as she brushes her fingers through my wet hair gently.

"Like all wounds, a broken heart needs time to heal. It's going to be alright Chris," she kisses my forehead.

I want to stay here forever and just forget the world exists.

In Desirae's warm arms as the heavy rain pours on us, so far away from pain and struggle.