Wrapping my arms around my legs, I pulled them in tight to my chest and let the question go as I allowed myself to cry. You were only supposed to see your life pass before your eyes when you died. Something dramatic like you fell from a bridge or were in a car crash. They never talked about how the same thing happened when you were captured by a serial killer and kept hostage like an animal.

Now I had way too much time to think about all the things I would’ve done differently over the past twenty-three years. Was there a fork in the road that would’ve brought me to a beach in the Cayman Islands instead of being locked in this room? If there was, what I wanted to know was how the fuck did I get back there and veer off this road? What I really wanted to know more than anything else was, who in the universe did I piss off to end up here? Why did it seem like no one really wanted me but this one sick man, and what did that say about me?

Chapter 20

CAIN

“Shit,” I muttered.

The scent of frying meat hit me in the face as I opened the door to my home, announcing Abel’s presence. It meant Abel hadn’t gone home as I’d told him to do. I didn’t want to deal with my brother this evening. He was like cheap cologne. A dab here and there could be tolerable, maybe even enjoyable, but too much, and you wanted to throw up, toss the bottle in the garbage, and cut off the body part that now reeked worse than dog shit.

“What are you still doing here,” I asked, walking into the kitchen.

Abel turned to look at me, his face twisted in confusion. “Is this a trick question? I know how you like your fucking mind games.”

Abel turned back to whatever he had in the pan, and even though there was no music playing, he wiggled slightly back and forth like he had bugs in his boxers. He hadn’t changed much since we were kids. Abel didn’t know the meaning of ‘sit still.’

“No, it’s not a trick question. I told you to go home.” Crossing the kitchen, I yanked open the refrigerator door, and all the bottles rattled.

“Yeah, but you never mean it,” Abel said as I cracked the cap off a beer and chugged half of it down.

“No, I always mean it. You just have a nasty habit of not listening. This seems to be a recurring argument between us.”