❝ there's a fine line between genius and insanity. i have erased this line.❞
oscar levant
__________
Author's Note: This chapter contains some heavy content and dark themes.
I want to dedicate it to KaylaLeBlanc02, who read all 34 chapters in one go! Thank you for your support :)
__________
"I need..." I trailed off, trying to control the quaver of my voice. "I need to go to the bathroom."
I sounded foreign, even to myself.
Was Joseph the killer? Was that why Damian had been acting so strange and had told me to call the police? But how could he know for sure?
Nothing made sense to me. I felt the walls closing in on me and the oxygen leaving my lungs.
Joseph noticed my strangled timbre and turned around, scanning my face with a concerned frown.
"Are you all right? You're a bit pale."
I felt the violent need to laugh in his face. I knew I had to put up a facade and act as if everything was normal, but it was much harder than I had expected. I wanted to throw the jewellery box with Gabrielle's earring at his feet and see his reaction. Perhaps Damian was misreading the situation and Joseph had nothing to do with the crimes, but why was he carrying a gun then?
I had to maintain my composure, just like Damian did, but I was never good at controlling my emotions. I wasn't a good actress, and judging by Joseph's look, he was already suspecting something.
"She's fine." Damian responded calmly, though quite defensively.
I realized I was holding my breath again; it became a habit of mine whenever I was stressed. I took a gulp of air and on an impulse, I inquired reprovingly:
"Why are you carrying a gun, Joseph?"
The moment I voiced that out loud I regretted it, but there was no going back now. Damian's jaw clenched and his stance turned taut, as if he was on alert for a possible attack. It was reckless of me to ask that, but I was tired of all the webs of secrets and lies woven around me. I wanted the truth, no matter how much it would hurt.
My question didn't unnerve him at all, or if it did, he didn't show it. He went on with the tea as if he hadn't heard me and placed the cups on the table. He gestured for us to sit, resting his arms on the top rail of the chair.
"Oh, just for precaution. You both got quite the temper, especially my brother." he said with a serene expression, and that's when I knew I got it all wrong.
Damian was never the fallen angel. It was Joseph all along, with his kind eyes and beguiling persona. I was so harrowed and devastated by Avery's death and Ellie's betrayal, that I had put up a halo above Joseph's head, weening him a sacred personage. He was always there when I needed him, even when Damian wasn't (though that was entirely my fault), with just the right words and warm embraces. He had wiped my tears and stood up all night with me on the phone when I was haunted by nightmares and was too afraid to sleep again, had gone to every party I went just to keep an eye on me and make sure I wouldn't get too drunk. He was perfect in every aspect.
I should have known better that perfection didn't exist.
"Sit down. We need to negotiate." he continued.
"Put away the gun and then we'll talk." Damian retorted with a steady tone.
If it weren't for him, I probably would've had a panic attack by now. His presence was empowering, his hand in mine the only thing that kept me on my feet. I had to be strong, if not for my sake, then for his. I took deep breaths and tried to pull myself together.
"Your dauntless bravery never ceases to amaze me. Alas, it's verging on recklessness way too often. It's what will get you killed, brother."
His angelic countenance and soothing voice frightened me more than Gabrielle's unstable behaviour. Unlike her, he was still acting like the Joseph I knew, and that confused me. What if this was all a misunderstanding? I kept on hoping that it was. There was absolutely no scintilla of malice behind his chocolate eyes, just a bizarre glint of... boredom?
Damian propelled himself towards his twin, but this time, I was the one to pull him back to me. I squeezed his hand tightly and glanced at him with a pleading look.
"What do you want to negotiate?" I asked, moving my sight to Joseph.
Prove us wrong, I beg of you, I implored him mentally.
His eyes bore into mine. He dragged the chair away from the table and perched on it. We repeated his actions, sitting right in front of him.
"Your silence in exchange for Damian's life."
I leant forward in stupefaction.
"I..." I peeked at Damian briefly. "I don't understand."
"I think you understand very well. I know you found Gabrielle's earring. Damian's face when he saw me said it all. And going out when there's a storm outside? I immediately knew something was off. If you're wondering, I hid her earring in his room because we were hanging out a lot in mine, and I didn't want you to accidentally find it. Damian wasn't supposed to come back so soon. If I knew that he'd return today, I would have hidden it elsewhere."
"The day our mother was due to leave us, she realized she had lost one of her diamond earrings. She spent the entire afternoon looking for it, because it was a very precious family heirloom." Damian said absently, staring in the horizon. "But despite her meticulous search, she couldn't find it anywhere. Because she didn't lose it. You took it, didn't you?" he asked, and I knew he was referring to his brother.
"The ridiculous act of a seven-year-old boy, desperately trying to delay his mother's departure." Joseph snorted with melancholic laughter. "I took it when she was sleeping. I've kept it ever since."
"Just like you took Monica's, Avery's and Gabrielle's earring." Damian presumed.
A glacial shiver racked my body. This was the moment I never thought I'd come to witness. I hoped wholeheartedly that that was a wrongful supposition. But Joseph shattered my hope with his answer:
"An earring is the only thing that bounds them to the land of the living. The worms have already devoured their bodies. They're gone. All they left behind is an earring and an empty coffin. A different sort of heirloom."
There was a sharp pinch behind my eyes and a painful lump in my throat that meant I was about to cry. My vision blurred until his silhouette became a shadow of faded colours. I felt drained of energy, and I turned my head to the side, as if that would stop them from seeing me cry.
"Why?" I asked weakly, forcing myself to look at him. I wasn't facing my friend anymore. I was facing a killer, and I regarded him the way you regard a killer: with a mixture of terror and contempt. "Why did you kill them, you sick..." A sob tore from my chest, keeping me from completing my sentence.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I didn't have the power to be enraged, only betrayed and confused and hurt, but Damian did. I could see in his turbulent hues that the only thing that kept him from lashing out at his brother was my hand in his. And if this was difficult for me, I couldn't imagine how it was for him. Devastating. His pain too great to be described in words.
Joseph squirmed in his chair uncomfortably, averting his gaze from mine. Was he feeling...repentant?
"Rose, just hear me out first."
I shut my eyes in anguish, shaking my head adamantly. He must have been a psychopath, and now he was faking remorse. It was the only logical explanation.
"Don't call me that. You've lost that privilege. You're a murderer and a liar. You're a monster."
"Yes, I am." he admitted, with a strange flicker of wretchedness in his eyes. "But I wasn't always one. I was madly in love with Monica. She became my sole purpose of existence. Surely you understand that, don't you, Damian?" he said rhetorically with a sad smile, glancing at his brother, who remained silent. "Love blinds you, that's the universal truth. Even geniuses become fools when they're in love, and fools become poets. I ignored Damian's warnings about her multiple times, until one time, during an argument, she threw a phrase in my face: I don't even love you. She left, and no matter how many times I tried calling her, she wouldn't pick up or answer my texts. I went to her house the following day. We had a really bad fight and she finally acknowledged her infatuation with Damian. She also told me that she'd been using me the whole time and that she was tired of me chasing her like a puppy."
"That doesn't give you the excuse to kill her." I countered with disdain.
"It doesn't. But there was a nagging voice in my head that goaded me into doing it. In a fit of pique, I shoved her. She hit her head badly and collapsed to the floor. I was so furious and hurt, that I started choking her without realizing, until I saw the life leaving her eyes. And it felt good. It was the only way to make her feel the same amount of pain she caused me. Except my pain was worse. Physical pain eventually passes, but heartbreak? Sometimes it lasts forever. Mine does."
I felt sick to my stomach. Damian's lips curled in disgust for a second, but then his cold, expressionless mask returned. I had to listen, I had to be strong; I had to find out how they died. I chided myself mentally for taking off Damian's coat. His phone was in there, and I could've recorded Joseph's confession. But it was too late now. There was no way he'd let me take it.
"I had my fingerprints all over her body, and I thought of the easiest way to get rid of them. I put her in the bath and filled it with water." He didn't sound contrite anymore; if anything, he was reminiscing the murder with some kind of sadistic satisfaction.
"I thought you were babysitting your aunt's daughter. Damian was the one with no alibi." I remarked.
"You son of a bitch." Damian muttered, darting his brother a feral glance. "I trusted you. You looked me in the eye and swore that you were innocent."
"It was actually the other way around. He was the one babysitting, but I asked him to cover up for me. I knew I was going to be the main suspect, so I convinced him that I stayed at home and persuaded him to lie to the police. I told you he'd do anything for the people he loves."
I covered my face with my hands. So many lies and secrets. I was angry at Damian for not telling me about this, but there was no time for arguments now. I took a deep breath and scrutinized him, expecting an explanation, but he avoided my sight and remained silent.
"What about Avery and Ellie? They did nothing to you!" I exclaimed. "Avery trusted you and considered you a really good guy. And Ellie...What did you do to my best friend? What could you have possibly done to her that she'd take the blame for the murders and try to kill me? What did she do to you that you drowned her in the lake?" Tears kept on rolling and rolling down my cheeks, and I felt their salty taste on my lips.
"I didn't kill Avery. Gabrielle did." he blurted out like it was no big deal.
I felt as if he had thrown acid on my face.
"What? Why would she do that?"
"Because, Rose..." Joseph raised to his feet, the chair's legs screeching on the floor. He started to amble from one side of the kitchen to the other, clasping his hands behind his back. "I told her to."
He observed our nonplussed expression and continued with an academic mien, as if he were teaching a history lesson:
"Avery was the one who introduced her to me. That was prior to Monica's death. We met again three months after her demise, and she brought Damian into the conversation randomly. She kept on talking and talking about him. You didn't have to be a detective to notice how in love she was with him. So I turned that to my advantage. I suppose I inspire trust, because just like you..." - he offered me an ephemeral smile that turned my blood to ice - "she asked me if he had killed Monica. I pretended I didn't want to talk about that and changed the subject, and just like I'd expected, that only made her insist."
"You let her believe that Damian was the killer?" I uttered, appalled.
"It was a big risk. She could have gone to the police, or tell someone about it, right?" he shook his head, answering his own question, and laughed shortly. "But she didn't, that's how much she loved him. She wasn't in her right mind though, to be honest. She actually approved of the crime, only because Damian did it. I convinced her not to mention it to him, since she wasn't supposed to know and she agreed. I also told her that I forgave him for killing her, because he was my brother after all."
I wondered if this was before or after she had told me that Damian was innocent until proven otherwise.
"How could you do that to your own brother?" I shot him a condemnatory glance. "Don't you have a heart at all? Do you know what you put him through? People treated him like a criminal. He lost his friends because of you. God, I can't believe I thought so highly of you. You deserve to rot in-"
"Rosabel." Damian reprimanded me warningly, squeezing my hand.
I let out a frustrated sigh. I had to keep in mind that Joseph had a gun and was, more than likely, insane. Damian was usually the impulsive one, but now, he seemed to keep his temper under control, and was much more collected than me. It must have been because of the great shock, augmented by the fact that this was his twin brother talking. His blood. His family.
He sniggered. "What I put him through?" Joseph stopped in the middle of the kitchen. "I've always protected him in front of our parents and everyone else, I always had his back, even when he messed up badly. Do you know what it feels like when everyone expects the best from you? Perfect behaviour, perfect grades, being the perfect son. I never disobeyed my parents, not even once, because I was afraid that if I did, they'd fight again, dad would drink again, mom would get angry and take it out on us. I felt like I carried the whole family on my shoulders. I was a child, but I never had a childhood." he extended his arms to the side in a defeated manner. "I'm so damn tired of pretending to be someone I'm not, of being everyone's shoulder to cry on, of loving so much only to have my heart crushed. What about me?"
Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time, for a different reason. I bit my lower lip hard. What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn't sympathize with a killer, but his chocolate eyes were full of dolour, and I couldn't help but feel a nauseating wave of compassion hit me. It dissipated quickly, though, because his features suddenly hardened.
He took out his gun and pointed it straight at my head.
"What about me, Rose?"