Page 25 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
Nash told me during a camping trip, while holding the closed knife in the palm of his hand: “When you’re out in the wild, every guy needs a good knife. They have so many uses. They’re not just for killing. You can use them for making fire, for preparing food, even for first aid.”
He unfolded the sharp blade.
“But,” Nash chuckled, his teeth glinting in the moonlight, “they’re mainly just for killing.”
13
Garage
Istare at the survival knife. Why do I even still have this?
My family never goes camping anymore. And the knife has no sentimental value, even though Nash gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday, because we no longer act “brotherly.” We just happen to belong to the same bloodline, and that’s it. He lives his life, and I live my life, and our paths don’t cross in any significant way. I’ll see him in passing when he visits the house on weekends, and I’ll make small talk with him during holidays and family gatherings.
But if I’m being really honest with myself, I know why I keep this knife. I know.
I slam the desk drawer shut, and I hear the knife slide and bounce against the side of the drawer.
I look at my closed and locked door, and I think. Has Nash been in the house all night and I just didn’t notice? Or did heenter at a certain point after I came home and after I started watching the spy cam footage?
After a few minutes, I slowly exit out of my room.
Passing by the bathroom, the empty space where the shower curtain should be sends a piercing chill up and down my spine.
I hesitate before I walk by my brother’s bedroom. The door is open. I brace myself.
I take a few steps forward and glance inside the room. No one’s in it.
But I can now, even from here, smell the cleaning solution that Nash used to get rid of Alessandra’s blood.
I hear a voice coming from downstairs. It’s unrecognizable from where I am. Is my brother down there? Is he waiting for me? Does he want to confront me about me uploading videos of him onto a porn site? Or does he know thatIknow what he did to Alessandra? And whom is he talking to? Is he speaking to himself? Is he thinking out loud, trying to figure out what to do next?
When I reach the bottom of the stairs and walk into the living room, I see Oscar and Victor standing there, talking. Victor is eating a slice of cold pepperoni pizza.
Oscar spots me and starts freaking out. “Yo, Hunter, sorry, I swear we were leaving, but Victor was hungry and raided your refrigerator, and I told him you didn’t want us here, but he wouldn’t listen. Sorry, dude, we’re leaving, we’re leaving. Let’s go, Victor.”
Victor shakes his head. “Damn, Oscar, way to rat me out.”
Oscar raises his voice. “I told you we shoulda left. Hunter finna beat your ass. Go ‘head, Hunter. I’ll hold this bitch down if you want me to.”
“I’m just eating old pizza.” Victor shrugs. “Calm down, bitch.”
“Don’t call me a bitch, bitch.”
Oscar bats the pizza out of Victor’s hand, and it lands face down on the floor.
“Look what you did, dumbass.” Victor punches Oscar in the arm.
“What’s your problem, fucknuts?” Oscar puts Victor in a headlock.
Victor trips Oscar, and Oscar’s side hits the arm of the couch, which causes him to let go of his grip on Victor.
“STOP IT!” I yell.
Oscar and Victor freeze and look at me, both of them a bit frightened, because I never really get angry like this.
Oscar says, “We’re leaving, we’re leaving.”
Victor starts backing up toward the front door. “I got the hint, I got the hint.Disculpa,asere.De verdad, Hunter,lo siento.”
