Page 184 of Wallflower

Using his momentum against the both of them, I throw my weight backward, sending the three of us off the back of the ship.

The centre man falls to the churning waters when I release him, machete dislodging and spiralling down to follow its owner.

The final menace holds tight to my waist with everything he’s got. My grip threatens to slip as I absorb our combined weight on one hand.

His fearful eyes meet mine, dark as the bitterest chocolate. “Pull us up, man. I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

“Fuck off,” I growl, trying to shake him off as I swing my body in order to grasp the rail with my other hand.

“Stop!” he begs, the cry ringing through the near-silent night.

Finally, my reaching hand clamps around a bar of the railing, and I rally my strength to inch my way up.

Perspiration accumulates on my furrowed brow. A drip dislodges at my temple. Making a slow descent along my hairline, it itches something fierce. Something as small as this shouldn’t send me into a tailspin, but it’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. My body drops, not strong enough to carry the weight of another with my energy depleted.

Burning pain rips through my thigh, and a bellow of agony tears from my chest. “If I’m dying, I’m taking you with me,” he snarls, pulling the mask from his face.

My brother glares up at me, hate-filled eyes leaking malice into the air around us.

His fist curled around the kunai blade twists the steel, and my grip loosens, fingers threatening to slip from the damn metal.

The asshole used my own weapon against me.

“Brad, stop!”

His name on my lips has him pausing.

But I know how this plays out. If the reality between sleep and wakefulness was true, Brad’s doomed to die.

If I let him live, what’s the point of trying to prevent the wrongs waged against my flower?

“How do you know my name?” he roars, ripping the blade free while curled around my leg like a spider monkey, fingers constricting the belt I shouldn’t have worn.

I gnash my teeth through the pain. “Because I’m your brother.” My reply is sorrowful as I adjust my grip, securing my hold, before my left hand releases the bar, moving down to undo the buckle of my belt.

Hanging there, I wonder…if I just let go, would I get another chance to make things right? Would I wake up, tangled in my sheets, with the opportunity to save my brother this time. Is he the reason for this second chance?

Deep down, I know he isn’t. It’s Rose that believes with a passion voracious enough to make the unexplainable a reality.

“What? Wait! W-w-wait!” Brad begs, but I’ve turned it off. Forced myself to feel nothing as the clasp comes loose, thethwappingof the leather ripping through the belt loops an ominous melody to my kin’s demise.

“I’m sorry.” The sound is as choked as it is monotonous, feelings warring through my voice as I watch Brad cling to the tether.

The buckle snags on a loop, granting me a few precious seconds of re-evaluation.

I could pull him up.

The decision is ripped from me as the belt slips through Bradley’s fingers, and I watch him crash into the churning water near the rudder.

My head hangs, guilt and emotional agony woven so intricately, I’ll never find my way out of it.

With aching arms, I pull myself up, leg throbbing and leaking a steady flow as I swing it over the white, metal railing.

Collapsing into a heap on the deck, I pull the last throwing knife from its sheath. Placing it between my teeth, I undo thebutton of my black pants, shimmying them down to dress the wound on my thigh.

The quick sutures barely hold, and the bandage isn’t sticking properly. My patience is quickly fraying.

Next to me, a corpse lies. I crawl to it, careful to avoid painting any more of my skin in gore.