Almost Three Years Ago
Nico has been watching me weirdly out of the corner of his eye for the past half an hour. We’ve been cooped up in Remo’s bedroom, scouring the dark net for any information on our targets while our tech savvy brother sets up surveillance monitoring.
It’s kind of scary how quietly and swiftly Remo breaks every cybersecurity law put in place. He’s always been able to access street cameras in the past, and can hack into any businesses’ private cameras if need be, but this is on another level. He’s programming facial recognition software to alert him whenever the scum we’re looking for are spotted. He’s feeding the tool of his own making live footage from every available camera inside of five hundred miles surrounding our territory.
He already digitized the files Nico asked for, and sent us both a copy to keep on our phones. Every part of me is certain that I won’t need to look at it again, though. The faces of the men who could do so much evil to an innocent girl are burned intothe back of my brain permanently now. I don’t think I could ever forget them if I tried.
Perhaps seeing them dead will help.
“Find anything useful?” I ask, rather than grumbling about his obvious and unwelcome glances.
Nico purses his lips. “Not yet.”
Unfortunately, neither have I.
Sighing, I look back down at the computer screen in my lap. “Great.”
“Is it itchy?”
Nose scrunching, I have to return my attention to my brother. “What?”
“Is it itchy?” he repeats, tilting his head. His icy blue eyes are more piercing than the rest of our brothers, like they’re meant to be as unnerving as he is. “The need. Can you feel it under your skin? Do you want to rip it out and feed it?”
“Are you high?” I ask, blinking in confusion. “Am I supposed to know what the fuck that means?”
“You want to kill these guys yourself. I can feel it wafting off you. You’re practically shouting it from the rooftop. I want to know if it itches. If it’s irritating you so badly that you feel like your skin might fall off if you don’t scratch it.”
Dumbfounded by his eagerness for an answer, I shake my head. “Is that how you feel when you want to kill? Itchy?”
Nico shrugs, the interested glint in his eyes beginning to dim. “No. But we’re not the same. You don’t get enjoyment out of it.”
“I’m going to be honest, man. You’ve never confused me more in our lives.” I let out a huff, exhaling through my nose. “No, it doesn’t itch. Ithurts. I feel like I’m burning up, honestly. Not because I want to kill, but because I want them dead. I’m so mad that this happened, and I don’t know what to do about it other than to do this.”
Nico stares at me, processing my reply.
“I don’t care about killing like you do, that’s true,” I continue. “But I think the only way to get rid of this anguish or pain or whatever it is, is to feel them dying myself. I want to watch you hurt them worse than you’ve ever hurt anyone else before. I don’t have a taste for the act itself, but I want to feel them suffer in the ways that I know you can make them. I want to help, even.”
I keep imagining the way their blood will feel on my hands. Will it be hot and thick as it should be? Or cold and thin from their lack of humanity? Will I be able to sense the wickedness in their DNA?
Nico remains silent, and I notice that Remo has stopped typing on his keyboard behind us. His attention has been caught, and I start to wonder if I’ve just said a bunch of meaningless word salad.
Until Nico eventually speaks. “Worse than I’ve ever hurt anyone else before, huh? That’s going to be a difficult feat. I’ve set the bar pretty high with Uncle in the past.”
A strained chuckle crawls up my throat. “I’m sure you can manage. Don’t you have a list of things you want to try? Pick a couple and we’ll try them.”
“Well…” he trails off in thought. “I’ve never boiled someone alive. We’d need to torture them thoroughly first, though. I don’t want them to die too quickly. And I don’t know how painful it’ll be since I’ve never watched it be done before.”
“Oh, boiling alive is that all?” I tease, laughing lightly. “You’re an interesting guy, Nico.”
“Am I?” he asks, doubtfully. “I’d argue that it’s more interesting that you want to torture than it is that I have a bunch of ideas saved in the back of my mind for times like these.”
“Well...” I cough awkwardly, clearing my throat. “We’ve always known that I’m interesting. I’ve been trying to tell you all for years that I’m the best sibling.”
Remo snorts, returning to his typing.
Nico doesn’t even pretend to be amused.
“Tough crowd.”
