42 41. War Baby (1/2)
”Who?”
I assumed he was bluffing and solely wanted my attention because he didn't know the actual details. He didn't understand the atrocity of my situation and its enormity. He didn't really understand what it meant to kill your lover's father for some documents (just imagining trying to explain my 'reasons' to Samara, made me want to curl up and die). He didn't understand that nothing would make this even slightly better. Nothing would change who I am.
Not him going against his morals to support a long lost, darkness-consumed brother. And definitely not 'distracting' me.
”Well, who would benefit from having Samara turn on you?” He asked with an easy smirk, and I wondered how he managed to trust me on his life. He was just sitting there, probably feigning nonchalance, and talking to me like we were long life friends. He was sighing, smirking, talking unshakably, and inching closer to the tub. Closer to me.
I wondered if his core was quaking. I wondered if it was scolding him for being so stupid to follow his heart just this one time. I wondered if there was behind this confidence of his, a battle he was fighting. A battle to stay with his murderer of a brother. I wondered if that was why his hands were curled into fists. Was it to hide their uncontrollable shaking? One can have so much control over his body, face. But not their extremities.
Extremities, like shaking hands and tapping feet, peel any pretence anyone is holding up. And he was hiding them from me.
”Who?” I repeated, taking a deep breath.
”Who do you think?” He repeated, raising his eyebrows and looking at me as if still processing the idea in his head.
”I do not think. Just tell me who.” I snapped impatiently, my clutch around the empty scotch bottle tightening, and I wondered why was I even holding it in the first place and let it go.
”Well,” he said, sighing dramatically. ”I'll give you some hints.” He tilted his head. ”If he doesn't trust you, gaining Samara's trust is going to totally benefit him. He can manipulate her-”
Realization dawned on me and I narrowed my eyes at him, interrupting him with a scowl. ”No.”
”Yes!” He said, shaking his head and leaning in to make his point. I leaned away. ”It wouldn't cost Dad a thing!”
”No,” I repeated boredly. ”That's not his strategy. He doesn't like theatrics. He wouldn't invest a second in creating this intricately boring drama. You're looking for a much more 'interesting' amateur. Not Father.” I tilted my head to glare at him.
”Mate.” He furrowed his eyebrows. ”He'd totally do it!”
”I know better.” I closed my eyes with a sigh, feeling defeated.
”No, no,” he protested, standing up. ”You said he killed your Audrey and baby!” He said bluntly. ”This is drama, Julius!”
I examined him curiously. He looked provoked with his wet and slick hair, angry-red cheeks, and his sharp eyes, daring me to not believe him.
”Why are you insistent about this?” I muttered.
”What do you mean?”
”What's up with you two?”
Augustus shrugged, flexed his fingers and ran them nervously through his hair. ”Nothing out of the ordinary.”
”Right.” I let my gaze linger on him.
He shifted slightly before sitting down with a heavy sigh next to the tub. He pulled his legs closer to him, crossed his feet at his ankles, and threw his arms around his knees.
”Well,” Augustus started, fumbling with his fingers. ”Well. All I can tell you is that things were never the same after he killed Sam.”
I tried studying him but his hair was obscuring his face. I looked away with a soft sigh, silence settling between us.
”He didn't know,” I whispered, surprising myself. ”He didn't know,” I then repeated louder, clearing my throat. ”-that you had feelings for her.”
I didn't understand why I particularly said that. I didn't understand why I was softening his heart toward my father. Our father.
”I know.” He pressed. ”But he shouldn't go around killing anyone he thinks isn't worthy of living.” His voice was strangled and I was scared he was going to start crying. Because Augustus' crying wouldn't make this any better. As it happened, I'd had enough drama for the day.
So I scoffed.
”If you don't defend him, you shouldn't defend me either,” I said solidly, shifting heavily in the ice-cold water. ”We're not so different.”
Augustus didn't say a word then but rested his back against the wall and stared ahead. ”Why do you care?” he then said. ”I mean, you wanted me to hate him.”
”I never wanted that. I'd prefer it, but never want it.” I pointed out. ”As a matter of fact, I don't care. But I wouldn't want Father dead yet. Because of you.”
”You still think I'll be the reason behind his death?” He shook his head, his voice constrained.
”I don't think,” I smirked. ”I'm sure.”
He shook his head and I looked away.
”You really are looking for revenge now, aren't you?” I glanced at him as his right hand tightly clasped his left wrist. ”Don't be stupid.” I continued, closing my eyes. ”He'd die for you. You think you'll be able to carry on without him, but you'll be disappointed when you start missing him and blaming yourself.”
And I thought how amusing it was to try 'helping' him. How good it felt to divert him away from his idiotic thinking and being useful for once.
I heard him sniff but didn't look.
”So you're giving me advice when you're the messed up one?” I commented incredulously.
”I'm not that fucked,” he muttered. ”You're way more fucked.”
”True,” I said. ”Just get it together. Or whatever.”
”So.” He huffed out, extending his left leg. ”-did those French fucks cause you any trouble?” He asked, referring to Maxime and Leonard.
”Actually,” I fake pouted. ”Actually, no.”
”Seriously?” He said, turning his pale visage and teary, bright eyes to me. ”I mean you made them your bitches.”
”There wasn't anything that they could do.”
”Still weird,” Augustus added with a heavy sigh.
I looked away and sighed. They were Samara's half-brothers.
”They're Samara's half-brothers,” I stated.
”No, shit.” Augustus jolted up and I nodded tiredly.
”That's what I first thought too.” I sighed. ”It's an awfully long story.”
”What the hell Julius?” Augustus suddenly exclaimed. ”You can't possibly be that idiotic.”
”About?” I muttered vexedly, running a hand through my wet hair.
”If they're her brothers,” Augustus said thoughtfully. ”-and they're breathing little, sophisticated French fucks. They can tell her! They can dig up everything about you. And she'll easily believe and trust them!”
”Of course not,” I said, looking away thoughtfully. ”She doesn't know that they're her brothers. At least, that's what I think. Why would she trust them? And why would she believe anyone selling anything about me if she truly loved me?”
Augustus snorted. ”Well, she confronted you, didn't she?” I looked at him and shut up. ”I mean -bless her- if she had any doubt, you confirmed it, dickhead.”
”Still-” I argued despite it making perfect sense.
”Still what? They're pretty legit. They might've given her some -I don't know?- papers? Or some shit?” He said, his eyes brightening as he connected more dots.
”No,” I scoffed. ”They wouldn't have it.”
”Then they faked it to fit the story!” He said as if it was the most obvious thing. ”That you killed their father! And that's because -oh my- you're a big, bad wolf. They wouldn't even need to tell her who they are. I mean, did she mention anything about the company? Dad? The documents?”
I shook my head subtly as I processed the idea more.
”See?!” Augustus grinned as if he got it all figured out. ”They made a story up! Samara probably wanted an explanation of her father's death and they gave her that! And you stupidly fell into the trap and confirmed. Samara doesn't even know the real murderer you!”
”Still,” I shook my head. ”How did she know I killed twenty people? That's very accurate.”
Augustus sighed dramatically. ”My my dear, dear brother, that God decided to give me when I was twenty, only to realize that he's a walking, talking, killing moron.” I raised my eyebrows. ”If anyone on Earth asks me -let's say- how many shirts do you think you have? I'll throw a twenty at them. How many different types of kisses are there? Another twenty? How many -I don't know- eggs-?”
”You made your very idiotic point,” I said, almost smiling. ”Which is very, very unlikely-”
”It is not unlikely.” Augustus tsked. ”You just like to complicate complicated matters. It was like you're born for it. There's a humongous difference.”
I sighed. ”Fine. But it'd be very reckless of them to do such a thing. I mean -blimey- they just set themselves on fire without realizing.” I was surprised by my coolness. I was not angry. I was actually very calm. Maybe because I still didn't believe it.
”I know right!” Augustus cheered as I heavily got out of the water and staggered past my brother out of the bathroom. Water leaked from me as I shivered slightly.
He followed.
I was shocked to see the suite in a complete mess. Vases were broken, the TV was knocked off, and there was a lot of water on the floor, soaking the carpets.
”Ah, mate,” Augustus commented with a sigh. ”-you must've had it hard.”
I didn't focus on what he said and cursed under my breath.