'Please read with fierce caution.'
MY EYES ARE RIPPLED, like a slight distortion.
It's not like I can't see, I can. I see a reflection staring back at me from a feet-length mirror, they are wearing unfamiliar clothes.
I see their nose; it's sharp and pointed just at the right incline. And their eyes, a piercing light Prussian blue...
It's getting clearer now,
They're smiling too— a little too wide for a regular smile.
And... what's that? Is that a mustache? When did I grow a mustache?
My hair... a hand reaches for my hair— the movement feels off... more reflective than my usual motions— but I don't remember cutting my hair this short. Why is it brown instead?
Am I dreaming?
What's that? I lean closer; it looks like... is that— is that... I gasp sharply, stumbling backward.
I'm covered in blood.
My hands, body, and clothes are full-on covered in drenching, metallic red.
I'm a man.
And this man— he's killed another man. His lifeless body lies there, blood dripping onto the sheets.
And I can hear him laughing, inside my head.
—
2 HOURS EARLIER...
DAVIS MOORE...
—
'I'M SORRY SIR, it's hotel policy.' I say, trying to keep my voice at its best.
'It's hotel policy that you can't spend time with a customer who is ready to pay for it?' he doesn't look disappointed, I'm not surprised.
I shift in my steps, 'Sorry sir, I really can't.'
'Five hundred.'
'Sir, I really ca—'
'Two thousand.'
I'm quiet. Just quiet.
'Five thousand. I'll write the check now if you want.' His mouth is curved in a sly, conspiratorial smile. It sends me chills. I look in his eyes. Does he really not recognize me? Job well done, Theo.
'My superior...'
'Here,' he reaches for the telephone on the bedside, 'I'll take care of that.'
One, two rings... and my breath hitches.
'Yes...' he says into the receiver
'What's your name?' he whispers,
'Juniper Day, sir.'
'You heard him.'
'Yes... yes.'
'Thank you.' He hangs up. 'No one gets in trouble with me in the picture.' His voice remains as I remember, as monstrous as could ever be.
'Come here,' he gestures for me to sit beside him.
'Oh, pardon me, sir, but... I'm not worthy.'
'That's up to me to decide. Come on.' I prop down beside him, keeping a cautious distance, but he wastes no time resting his hand on my lap. 'I just want to talk.' Chills run down my spine. I'm suddenly hauled back to those horrific years. I'm shivering almost too visibly; He can tell.
'Ex... cuse me a moment,' I bolt for the bathroom, barely comprehending my actions. I lurch over the basin and vomit all I ate earlier. Looking back at myself in the mirror: my skin is flushed, my pupils dilated, and my breath hung and uneven.
I could chop those hands off right then and there.
'I'm sorry, Michael, I didn't know you called' My constant apologies only agitated him; I've come to learn that over the years— but how could a child have known better, other than to apologize when they've done wrong?
'I asked you to come here!' His voice, contemptuous.
'It's gonna hurt, Michael, please.' He curses, storming up to me and yanking my arms like they could be screwed back on. He's naked.
'I warned you,' he says, 'I said bad children get punished when they do bad things.' He shoves me onto the bed.
'Now, go on, you know what to do.' I'm crying but he doesn't care, I'm bleeding from my nose, but that's not his problem.
'Please... it's gonna hurt.' I beg. He slaps me. So hard that I went partially deaf in my left ear.
He strips me naked, he— he...
Tears bleed from my eyes,
No matter how far I've come, no matter how long I live, these memories... they'll always be embedded in me, haunting me for as long as I breathe.
They are the demons I can't outrun.
'Are you okay in there?' I hear his voice from the other side of the door. Michael Hernandez.
A monster in human flesh.
'Yes, I'll be out in five...' I reply, twisting the faucet and splashing water on my face to wash off the stain of tears.
I hear his retracting footsteps and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.
I've been keeping tabs on Michael for years— he's got a weirdly busy schedule for a man whose only Job is to sign contracts and attend meetings if necessary.
He's married now, at the fine age of thirty-four, and has fathered two sons in the last decade.
He won Best CEO last year. spent the night raping a teenage girl whose family was bought off in exchange for their silence. The reporter, who I tipped for information, told me that the teenage girl, in the name of Rebecca Johnson, a junior high schooler, took her own life merely weeks after. The newsletter speculated she suffered from severe depression which wasn't a lie at all.
Funny thing is, Though the family later came forward to reveal the hidden truth behind their daughter's death, NO ONE BELIVED THEM.
And that's Los Angeles for you. An overrated city where the hurt remains hurt, while the privileged get away with anything.
And where there's a long line of Aristocrats and magnates, Michael Hernandez stands at the forefront. He stands untouchable.
Too powerful to be shaken,
Too privileged to be opposed.
Even the law cowers before him; yes, he's that powerful. Courtesy of the distinguished Hernandez name.
His lecherous acts know no limits. No end.
Michael Hernandez, my brother from the same father, I'll be his angel of death today, as he once was mine.
After all, what makes a man, kills a man.
I give myself one last reassuring stare, nod my head—let's do this— and walk back into the room.
'Sorry Mr. Her— oh!' I hadn't anticipated how acute the allergy trigger dose I added to his lemon water would be.
A wicked grin curls its way around my lips as I watch Michael practically roll on the ground, choking on his coughs, struggling with intense apnea.
I can't help the laugh that bubbled from my throat, it's funny, you know, seeing a man so reckoned rendered helpless before his own demise. I'm almost tempted to feel pity for him.
But I didn't endure all those eight long years of hard training just to turn back around when the fun was just beginning.
I haven't even started yet, why is he pretending to be facing a different death, when here I stand before him?
I walk to take a closer look at him; his face is swollen down his neck— Oh, Alyssa didn't lie; this thing works wonders.
I have to cover my nose as he gasps, 'Pi... Pil..., I need my Pills.' 'My... thro—' spits spurt from his mouth all over his face, 'My throat... is closing up.'
Nine-year-old me was so terrified to do this. now look at us... look at us starting his death the same way we planned years ago.
I'd always known Michael suffered from severe asthma; it wasn't a secret anyone bothered to hide because it was always happening, his attacks. I remember wishing they'd intensify enough to send him away, to the hospital or anywhere, but that never happened. Our father, he was a man who never showed any sign of weakness to the outside world, so Dr. Ramirez would always come by instead.
'Hello there,' I crane my neck, crouching by his side to look at him properly. 'You still don't recognize me?' I tut. 'What a shame— I could've sworn I saw a glint of familiarity in your eyes earlier.'
He's hyperventilating profusely now.
'Well,' I sigh, standing back up, 'I'm not disappointed,' I walk to the bed, lift the mattress slightly, and there it is, the dagger I planted there hours earlier. I was starting to worry someone must have gotten to it before me. 'I didn't go through all that trouble just to get recognized anyway.'
Hovering over him, I watch his pupils struggle to widen, 'You see, brother...' I almost choke on the word, 'I wasn't always like this.' I size him up, trying to identify where to start. 'You'd be surprised what this rotten world could make a person into.' I chuckle, watching his breath grow shallower and his gallant reputation crumble beneath my authority.
I drag him back on the bed. he's heavy, but I'm stronger now. I strip him naked. like he always liked.
I eye him for a beat and shake my head. 'Victim 001, welcome to my dancefloor, where hell is the only way out.' I've been practicing that line for a while now.
'Now, Little Theo, where do we start?'
And... I killed my brother.
Don't get me wrong; I didn't kill him so easily; I gave him the worst kind of death imaginable.
The best death befitting a Monster.