Page 98 of Devilish Ink

I sucked in a rattling breath and tried to relax. But the pain and the memories were a poison and I was forced to keep swallowing them.

“But you didn’t learn like I did,” I said, really breathing heavily now and not knowing how to get my lungs back under control. “You never conformed or broke or got in line or whatever the fuck you want to call it and when Ma died—Shit.”

“You have to stay still,” Rian said, his voice ice cold.

My wrist was on fire.

“When Ma died,” I said, “Dad came to me and he told me thatit was time that you grew strong. We were alone now and we all needed to be strong. I believed him because I was weak, too. I cried every night for Ma. And I was tired of being weak. I wanted to be strong like Dad and Alan. To not cry. To not feel pain. I thought that’s what it meant for you, too. To not feel pain. I didn’t know he would beat you, too.”

I hissed when Rian dragged the needle across my skin. It cut me open and the blood dripped onto the floor, but he just kept going. His own brow wet, his eyes laser focused on my wrist, his hands shaking.

“Rian, please,” I said, not sure whether I was begging him to hear me, believe me or stop. “Da said he’d kill you if I interfered. He said if I stopped him, I was accepting that you were weak. That you’d always be weak. And we put down weak animals, so he’d do the same to you. Rian, please. I never stood up for you because I thought he wouldkill you.”

The metal tray of tools clattered to the floor, banging noisily as Rian stood and screamed at me to shut up.

My brother’s eyes were wild. It looked like he wanted to destroy the place. Tear it brick from brick.

My blood continued to drip to the floor. I shook like I was in the grips of a bad fever.

“Please,” I whispered. “I was just a kid.”

“Iwas just a kid!” Rian shouted. “Youwere my older brother!”

“I know,” I tried, but it was wrong, the wrong thing to say.

“No,” Rian’s cheeks were flushed as he shook his head. “No, youknew. You knew the whole time. You always knew it was wrong. And you didnothing. You never stopped them. You never stood up for me. This—this excuse you’re telling me now, this—thislie…it’s just to clear your conscience. Da never said any of that. Because I was never the one who was weak. It was always you, Liam. Fuckingyou!”

With a scream of rage, Rian stormed out.

A light bulb shattered when he shoved over a floor lamp. The little bell fell from above the door he slammed too hard.

I could hear him shouting out on the sidewalk. A deranged man, people would say. Stay away from him, mothers would tell their children. He’s a danger, they’d all think, crossing to the other side of the street.

But it was me.

I was the danger.

Rian had cut me open, but the wounds I gave him were deeper.

With trembling fingers, I reached for a tissue to blot at the blood.

I’d failed.

I no longer felt the pain. I was numb.

When I swiped at the fresh tattoo, raising the already raw skin, I saw what my little brother had found fit for me: a snake. Half finished. Its mouth open to consume itself, had he had enough time.

My blood-soaked cash I left beneath the still humming tattoo gun.

I left Dublin Ink a shell of myself. Empty. Cold. Feeling more alone than ever.

RY

Imight have been afraid of the intense pounding at my door had I not heard Rian shouting my name from half a block away.

Liam had fixed the door that he’d broken in. Now as it rattled under the hinges, it seemed in danger of being kicked open again.

I flipped the lock. I jumped back just in time to get out of Rian’s way as he stormed inside. I closed the door against the fierce wind and nosy neighbours already leaning out of their windows.

---