The Sinful Scream

44 - brothers

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Maddox POV

"Huh... I'm getting a sense of deja vu,"

"Just me?" I smirked.

     I had crouched down to get on Ace's level, firmly pressing the barrel of my gun beneath his chin. He barely flinched, keeping his eyes locked on mine. They were dull and lifeless, making it feel as though he was staring right through me.

"God, what's wrong with me?" I shook my head a few times, as if scolding myself.

     I lowered my gun and ripped the gag out of Ace's mouth, causing him to lurch forward and cough hoarsely. Biting the inside of his cheek, he viciously fought against the binds on his wrists and ankles. Nonetheless, I continued.

"How could I expect you to answer me in that state? Should be better now... go on,"

"Fuck you." He bit out through clenched teeth, to which I chuckled humorlessly.

"You're nothing if not flattering, Ace." I turned the gun over in my hand, watching his eyes dart from it to my face and back again.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere this time, unfortunately." I leaned forward and used the gun to hit him across the face.

     The sound reverberated throughout the warehouse, a satisfying crack of heavy metal against skin. I'd missed this feeling of control, the adrenaline that goes hand in hand with vengeance. The impact of the gun made Ace's head whip to one side, colliding with the concrete wall behind him. Slowly, he turned his head to face me, blood dripping from his nose and mouth.

"The next time I get my hands on you, I swear-"

"You think there's gonna' be a next time?" I cut him off, rising from my crouched position in front of him. I swiftly kicked him square in the chest, making him gasp for air.

     I stood still, watching him struggle and heave in stuttered breaths. The man writhing on the ground beneath me was my brother, but could I even call him that now? Hell, I haven't been able to call him that in years.

"I'll kill you with my own two hands, Maddox," Ace snarled.

"I'll make sure you're dead."

"You have always been a wishful thinker..." I pondered aloud as he looked up at me, refusing to back down.

"Wishing your hands were free right now so you could strangle me, wishing our father chose you as leader..." I rattled off.

"Your whole life has been devoted to wanting to be me, Ace."

"How's that going? Not too well, I suppose." I gestured toward him as he aggressively struggled against the ropes binding him, failing to stand up despite his efforts.

"Rot in fucking hell, Maddox!" Ace bellowed.

     He always was easily angered by simple words. I knew this well, having grown up with him. As a kid, I quickly picked up on the things that made him tick. His daddy issues, jealousy, and short temper had always been at the forefront of who he was.

     It's always been easy for me to press his buttons and hit him right where it hurts, although he would never let it show. Ace has always, and clearly to this day, resorted to violence and combativeness over feelings.

      I'd say I acted similarly when I first started heading the Mafia, mainly out of the desire for respect. I wanted to prove myself, that I was dangerous, not to be fucked with. Maturing has taught me that being a leader involves much more consideration than just waving a gun around. I've also found people who've shown me what it means to be a multi-faceted individual first and foremost, which translates into my leadership.

     Ace, on the other hand, has none of this. He's turned everyone he's ever cared about, against him. He seeks revenge and violence as retribution for issues of his own doing. He is everything I am not.

But, he's still my brother.

As I stood above him, watching him fight against his binds in a rage-induced haze, I debated on what I was going to do. The man before me was maniacal and murderous, with only one goal in sight: to ruin me and everything I care about. He was my own twin brother, who I saw parts of myself in.

Looking at him, past the cloud of rage and vengeance enveloping me, I saw the young boy I once knew who had so much potential for good. It was almost difficult for me to grasp how this man before me was once that pure-hearted child I grew up with.

How the fuck did we even get to this point?

Each of us with murderous intent toward the other, for completely different reasons.

     Ace stopped thrashing, turning to look at me. Even when he was so helpless, you could still see the violent glint in his eyes.

He spat blood onto the concrete, clearing his throat. "You think you're so much better than me, just because Dad chose you to lead..."

"You can deny it as much as you want, but we're the same, Maddox."

I eyed him with disgust and opened my mouth to respond, but was cut off.

"To tell you the truth, I fucking pity you. You'll never be something of your own, you're just a copy of our father,"  Ace sneered.

Red hot anger coursing through my veins, I quickly crouched in front of him, my hand shooting forward and finding its way around his neck. He was taken by surprise, a single gasp leaving his lips before my hand latched around his throat.

"You and I-" I squeezed tighter, "Are not the same."

I watched as the blood rose to his face, air leaving his body by the second.

"To think I was going to fuckin' pity you for being my brother, is unreal." I snapped, releasing his neck to hold my gun to his temple. 

"How kind of you," He laughed maniacally.

A moment of stillness passed, as I pressed the barrel of my gun into his temple and he stared at me, unrelenting. Suddenly, he lurched forward, harshly bumping his forehead against mine, causing me to lose balance and fall backwards. I gripped my gun tightly, watching with confusion as Ace got on top of me, his hands completely free and rope on the ground behind him.

His fist collided with my cheek, and I caught his wrist with my free hand before he was able to pull it back. Regardless of this, he used his other hand to reach for my gun. I wrestled him to the ground as he grabbed a hold of my gun and we proceeded to tussle over it, tugging back and forth as we both tried to take the gun from one another.

Ace was relentless, not backing down even when I released his wrist and dug my nails into his eye socket to deter him from his pursuit toward the gun.

I couldn't let him get me this time, he would not get me this time, I thought.

Using all my strength, I pulled the gun as hard as I could from his iron grip. Everything from this point forward felt as though it occurred in slow motion.

Bang!