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The dress is hanging on the closet door and I have not once looked directly at it.
It’s early, but I tossed and turned all night and couldn’t sleep. In hours, I'll be standing in a packed church in professional makeup and an updo, promising to give the rest of my life to an undertaker who is also part of a criminal organisation.
Instead, I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, drinking a cup of coffee that’s gone cold.
My mother was expecting me to get married to Charles, but she chose to stay silent when my father told her I'm marrying into a rival family. I'm surprised she never came up to my room to interrogate me about it, since she liked Charles a lot and thought we’d end up together. But my father must have cautioned her.
I was at Laszlo’s house last night, taking his stitches out, and my mind keeps revisiting that. That photograph on his desk of his father—nice-looking man. Something tugged at my mind when I looked at it, but I can’t quite place why. I've been picking at it since to no avail. I admit this happens a lot since I see so many faces at work.
I pick up my phone when it buzzes.
Unknown: Watch this. All of it. Then call me
Charles has used four numbers since Sunday and I've already blocked three. I'm about to put the thing face down on the mattress when the second message loads underneath.
A video file. Thirty-one seconds.
The still is a loading bay. Ceiling camera, roller shutter half down, that gray security-camera color where everything on earth looks wet.
I press play because I'm an idiot.
There's no sound, just four men, a stack of pallets, and a flickering strip light. Two of them are holding a third up by the arms. He isn't fighting, his feet are dragging. I've seen enough people in that state to know he's already concussed and won't remember any of what's coming, which I’d hazard a guess should be considered a mercy.
The fourth man comes in from the left.
I gasp when I recognize him. I know that walk very well. He’s had it since middle school.
Julien.
My brother picks up a length of scaffolding off the pallets and hits the man, who obviously cannot defend himself. I suck in a breath. Then he goes again and again, four times in the head. After waiting a little, he does it once more after the man has already stopped moving. Then he steps back, wipes his hand down his own jacket, and says something. One of the others laughs. I can hear it in my head.
This happened two years ago, because I recognize the stupid haircut he had for one summer. Mom kept complaining about it.
Charles: I'm sorry. Didn't know how else to make you look at it
Charles: That video belongs to Novak. His men filmed it. Do you understand what that means? Your father does what he says because of that video. Your brother walks, now you marry him. All because of this
Charles: There's a man called Emil who used to work for him. He was pushed out last year and he kept a copy. He wanted forty thousand for it. I paid him sixty because I didn't want him having second thoughts
Charles: So I have it now. Come and watch me delete it. Halsted rd, the rink. Side door's open, been here all night
Charles: Keep looking at it. I don't know what I'm going to do with it. It's Julien's fault we're not together, isn't it? If he hadn't done this, none of it happens. You and me are still us
Charles: Please just come
I'm going to be sick. This is not like him. He must have been drinking.
There's a video of my brother killing a man on his phone, and he says he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with it.
He doesn't have anything except proof of a crime, of course. Nothing that could possibly free me. Novak’s men filmed it. Novak owns the original. Charles has to know this, too. He’s not stupid.
But clearly this is not about setting me free. It’s about what he wants—getting me to go.
It's one of his texts I can't stop reading: It's Julien's fault we’re not together, isn't it?
Guess he's finally found someone to hold responsible for losing me, apart from Laszlo Novak, and that’s Julien. No matter how fucked up he is, and how horrible his actions in that video, he’s still my brother. My blood. Exposing this could get my brother jailed for life or worse, killed. The whole family would be affected. In their world, these things are never taken lightly.
Charles is out of his mind. I’d bet my bottom dollar he’s been drinking. In fact, I know he has, because he can’t cope with what’s happening. I never realized how weak he was until this shitshow happened. I’m the one in the ring, putting everything on the line for my family. Now he comes and tries to destroy everything in the blink of an eye. Because really and truly, he doesn’t care about me at all.
