It was easy to tell that he’d been drinking even though it wasn’t close to lunchtime. I could smell it wafting off of him, but his eyes were bloodshot, and his words were slightly slurred when he spoke. I caught the glint of a blade in his hand, and I swallowed hard. He was dangerous at the best of times, but right now, the look in his eyes had a cold sweat trickling down my back. I hadn’t worked out in weeks and flexed my muscles, readying myself for the fight I knew was coming.

“What are you doing here, Abel,” I asked, my eyes looking around for the best possible weapon as I ran through all my training.

This was a different scenario than the mad dash through the woods with Cain chasing me down, but it was no less lethal. He was already holding a weapon, and like Cain, he was a foot taller with at least seventy pounds on me.

He smiled like a cat that had just killed the canary, and there was no guessing with him. I was the next bird on the menu. He brought a massive knife up and rubbed his forehead on the back of his arm. Abel saw me as a threat to the relationship he had with Cain. I understood that during our last confrontation, but I hadn’t seen him. Cain hadn’t mentioned him, so I thought they’d sorted their shit out, but apparently not.

“Well, isn’t this cozy? You’re a regular little Susie-Homemaker. So are you Cain’s maid now?”

He laughed at the joke, but I didn’t crack a smile at the rude comment. There was a statue sitting on the coffee table, a lamp behind me, and a tall decorative vase in the far corner. Cain was a minimalist, and there weren’t many choices unless I could get to the kitchen, but that was a long run from this spot.

“I’ll ask you again, Abel, what are you doing here?”

“Ahhhhhhh,” he screamed and grabbed at his hair, allowing me to take a large step toward the coffee table and my best potential weapon. “Don’t fucking do that! Don’t sound like him. You’re not him. You’re not my brother.”

“I’m not trying to sound like Cain, but considering you wanted to kill me the last time you visited, and you’re holding a knife, it seems like a pretty fair question,” I said.

Abel took a step forward.

“Even that…” He pointed the knife at me. “Even those fucking words sound like him. He hasn’t killed or fucked someone with me since he got serious about stalking your ass. He’s my brother. Mine! And somehow, you’ve fucked up our relationship.” He took another threatening step, and I moved until my legs hit the coffee table.