(Do Not Read Back Up Copy)

Chapter X

Caleb

I was screwed.

Real screwed.

I’d crossed too many lines, said a lot of things I shouldn’t have, and basically kicked myself in the ass, you get the picture. The sun hadn’t even hit the sheets yet and I’d already—

Geezus.

Stupid clock.

Scared the hell outta of me. Didn’t matter how many times I’d fixed it, the piece of junk always ran late. Chimed whenever it wanted to. Worst part was, every hour or so that ratty old cuckoo wailed like a loon—screeched it sanity away.

Truth is, I didn't feel too far off from the old bird. Since this morning, I’ve kinda had this feeling that I was going out of my mind—there were hints all over the place. Like whenever I did something real bad, I didn’t really feel like it was me doing it. Sounds like whack-job talk, but sometimes my body just up and switched into autopilot and that was that. Blackout. Those times scared me worse than anything.

I guess, in my head, I saw myself as someone different—someone trying to figure out which way was up. Maybe if I tried being less stupid, I could flip things around, even turn out semi-decent. Problem with lying to yourself is, you only ever half-believe anything you say.

Twenty minutes back, Cillian stepped outside to find Marcus. He hadn’t said much, just left me alone in the house. I don’t mind being by myself or anything, but whenever it’s just me, I get to thinking about things. Things I probably shouldn’t be. So, I stopped myself, limped right over into the kitchen and stuck my head in the sink. I didn’t pick up on how dark the water was at first, but when I opened my eyes it was bloody—too bloody to be only mine. I jerked my head out and threw up all over my chucks. Blood, water, and spit spattered down onto my only good pair of shoes—and I loved the hell outta those shoes.

Marcus caught me off guard.

“You alright, Caleb?”

The guy could walk into a room without anyone hearing his feet hit the floor. I felt like crap, so you can guess how I must’ve looked. He couldn’t have picked a crummier time to sneak in on me.

“Fine, just washing up.”

I straightened out and wiped the spit off the corners of my mouth. If he’d been paying attention, he would have caught me in an easy lie. He couldn’t be bothered.

“Give us a hand then.” Marcus asked.

I don’t know what it was about what he’d said, but I couldn’t really bring myself to bounce across the room and help him like I usually did. I just, didn’t move. Maybe it was nerves, maybe I was sick of Marcus slaving me around. Either way, his God complex was gonna push me over the edge if he didn’t keep it in check.

When I didn’t move, Cillian whistled me over, three or four times. I hated that. What am I? A fucking terrier? I’d cut his lips off if it meant I’d never have to hear it again. But of course, when I stayed put, he kept at it.

Him and Marcus were carrying something covered in burlap into the house. Must’ve been heavy ‘cause Cillian stopped whistling when he ran out of breath. Neither of my brothers were making much progress, so I started in their direction, feeling a little guilty about being rebellious.

Before I was halfway across the room, Marcus caught his foot on the edge of the carpet, and nearly dropped whatever it was he was holding.

Rusty’s hand slipped out from under the crosshatched cloth. His wedding ring caught the sunlight.