CHAPTER 27
THE HUNT FOR THE KILLER III
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Victor,
I'm sorry for my audacity in writing this message to you, but I will never forget that December 25 is your birthday and this is my first time in a long time that I can finally wish you a happy birthday. I couldn't be happier than how I am right now. Although, forgive me once again for wishing that someday we can meet. Even for just one second, I will be content and I will cherish that moment forever in my heart.
I have heard a lot about you and Nicholas from Cameron, all of them wonderful news. I always knew that you three are destined for great purposes in life. I believe in each path you've chosen for yourself.
There was a priest, imam, and rabbi who would come twice a month, and even though I couldn't bring myself to believe what they believed in, I still asked for their prayers for the three of you, and did you know that I used to know someone who worshiped Gods from the ancient Egyptian times? In the hospital, there was this man, whom I'd also asked multiple times to pray for you. I don't know if it works but I respected his solemnity.
I'm sorry if you found me often straying in this letter. I have asked Cameron to write it on my behalf instead or at least proofread it for me to make it more eligible, but he said I should just write my mind freely.
I want to write this letter as long as possible as I don't know when I will be able to have the chance again. I don't know if I have the right to talk to you about the years that are lost, your study, your arts, your achievements, and I'm also not very well informed about it. I'm afraid I might cross a line, but I'd like to learn. If we ever meet then, will you explain to me about it all? Meanwhile, we can talk about Freddie the Goldfish, what was his fate like? I bet he died already. Fish can't live that long, can they? They live a short life and they have no feelings.
I hope you don't find this patronizing. I realize I shouldn't talk to you like that. You are not a child anymore. You are 25 years old now. I could scrape this paper but I've taken too long to ponder on the words I'm about to say-I'm afraid Cameron will get impatient with me, or worse yet, miss his plane because of me. I think it's best to end this letter here before I also bore you too much. I'm sorry and happy birthday and Merry Christmas, Victor. All three of you are always on my mind.
Yours Truly,
Clementine.
P.S
I noticed how Cameron likes to wear jewelry and when he showed me the picture of you, I saw that the two of you seem to share the same interest in that, so I made the bracelet for the both of you. I picked different colored stones for each of them, but it is still one in the same.
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The house was the emptiest one among the streets on the day after Christmas. Everyone had left him but he couldn't fault them for that. As he laid supine, sprawled on the sofa in the living room, the TV provided a sense of background animation, a hint of a quiet life as he had muted the sound off to give way for the silence to prevail—he thought—it was probably the worst birthday celebration ever in world history.
If he couldn't learn anything else from this affair, if his mind couldn't propel itself to reason and reflect upon the essence of the problem, he could at least admit now that he shouldn't have encouraged Cameron to divulge in his undertaking before dinner. That was the one thing that he regretted, for if they could just withhold themselves for at least half an hour, it would have procured him one more memory of them together where they were still whole.
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."
"You're going to take this to court?" Victor met him across the kitchen island as he rummaged through the cabinet where he stored several bottles of scotch, carried out one of them and unsealed the cork in one adept motion.
"Of course, you think I would just stay silent and let my brother lives with that fucking murderer?!" He remarked as he poured himself a glass and downed it like he was trying to quench the fire that burned inside him.
Victor tried to keep his voice level headed even though he could feel his hands begin to tremble again on his sides. "You cannot just try and separate them. You will have to find evidence that Cam was incapable of taking care of her or that her mental health has deteriorated again, which is gonna be hard because he will do everything in his power to make sure that you won't be able to get anything. Then you have to face off against the board of doctors that had declared her sane enough to return to society to defend your case..."
"And that is exactly why I'm coming to South Dakota to meet them—"
"No! Don't you get it?! He will put a fucking restraining order on you!" Victor shouted, unable to hold back his desperation any longer. "You won't be able to see him anymore!"
Nicholas' eyes darkened. "Then what do you want me to do, huh? I couldn't just stay here, Vic! What if that bitch fucking killed him in his sleep? Do you want him to die like dad did?! Like Carson did?!"
Victor flinched slightly at the flash of ghastly image that surfaced in his mind, but anger immediately ensued, grounding him into reality when he realized that Nicholas had blindly accused him for siding with Cameron. He sprung forward to face his older brother directly. Their towering figures clashed head on, wherein Victor triumphed over him only for an inch at 6'4". "Of course no! Listen to me, he had planned this for a long time, Nico. He had taken every measure to make sure that everything worked in his favor. He wouldn't fucking stop at your attempt to take this into litigation. He would rather cut you off, cut us off than surrender her!"
For a fleeting moment, Nicholas appeared as if Victor had struck him with his words, before all the rage and confusion returned in an overwhelming deluge. "What the fuck are you trying to say?!"
"That he made his choice!" Victor yelled at him, the realization that he attempted to convey to him he delivered like a bullet through his thick skull.
Nicholas shook his head, his mouth was ajar in disbelief. He stared at his younger brother as though he didn't recognize him. He retreated slightly as he found a support to lean on on the counter. He pointed his finger at him. "No... you're wrong! He's confused. You and I know he has some unresolved issue and it made him unable to think straight—"
"You and I also have many fucking unresolved issue, yet you don't see us sign ourselves as a fucking guardian to her," he retorted.
He dropped his hand and turned away, denial tried to prevent the heavy burden of reality to set in his shoulders. "No, you cannot convince me of that. It must be her. She must have done something..."
"It's the truth, Nico..." He sighed. He could feel his strength dissipating and his brother was no good either. With the way things had turned out, if they kept depriving themselves like this, the breakdown wouldn't be pretty. "He told me that he always thinks of her as a family and he doesn't care what you'll do, he's still going to fight for her."
Nicholas scrabbled for a repudiation, his feverish eyes skimmed across the room, frantically searching for vindication for his defector brother, but doubt fought its way to disassemble his defense. How well did he really know him? What about the years he spent in all of those foreign countries? What was going on in his mind when he performed in front of thousands of people that came to watch him? Then afterwards, where did he go to seek solace from the quietness that promptly betided him?
It was such a bizarre mix of feeling, rage and sorrow, but one thing that was clear cut from it was that-it hurt. It fucking hurt like hell.
"How long have you known, Vic?"
Victor dropped his gaze. "Four days. I came to South Dakota for a job in a small town called Winona. I have an old mentor from the psychiatric unit, who's been assigned to be the head of a hospital, it turns out that she had been there all this time."
"Penrose State Hospital?" his question came out more as a statement.
Victor's eyes flickered to him. "You knew?"
Nicholas inhaled a deep breath. "I've tried to keep track of her. Which prison she was held in or transferred to, then asylum and hospital. Just to make sure that she's locked up forever. When I found out that Cam decided to leave for South Dakota that day after your party at Iris, I was so scared of the fact that he was close to her, so after all these years, I've spent worrying about making sure that she would never be able to get a hold of—"
"Nico—"
"No, Vic! I refuse to believe that unless I heard it from his fucking mouth!" he shouted, his hazel eyes ablaze again as he stalked towards the parlor.
He trailed after him, both of their footsteps heavy. "Fine then! Go ahead and try to convince him that he's been manipulated by her, that is if you can even so much as step on his porch without being dragged by his bodyguards or the fucking cops!"
"You better watch out, Vic, or I might just think you are sympathizing with her too," he warned as he took his coat from the hook behind the door.
Victor let out a breath of disbelief. "What?! Are you hearing yourself?!"
"Look, I'm not going to ask you right now on why didn't tell me immediately after you found out, but you can either come with me to South Dakota or you can stay here and do nothing while you knew your brother's life is in danger as long as he lives with that fucking murderer!"
It was the ultimate demand that Nicholas wanted him to choose through his action so he didn't wait to hear his reply as he stormed out again and slammed the door, leaving the house trembling in his wake.
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"Oh, I got scratches all over my arms.
One for each day since I fell apart.
I did what I had to do.
If there was a reason,
It was you."
- Pearl Jam