Ben shook his head disgustedly. “You're unbelievable.”
Alex stalked over to the wall. Why couldn't he get through to him? Why wouldn't he ever just listen?
He looked down at the pile of clothes on the floor. There was something funny about the shirt. He couldn't place what.
He leaned down a little. The buttons, that's what was funny. They were all gone.
What the hell? Why would the buttons on Ben's shirt…
Understanding flooded through him.
The robes. The weird feeling when Sarah had walked in. The way she'd been quiet. The way she and Ben had dropped all the rancor.
He looked at the bed. There was no depression in the pillow. The sheets weren't creased. The covers had been thrown back, that's all, thrown back by someone in a hurry, someone trying to create the quick and superficial appearance that he had slept there.
That he had slept alone.
He looked at Ben. “You… you didn't,” he heard himself say.
Ben held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.
“Oh, my God. You did.”
Ben licked his lips. “Look, after I got ambushed at your house-”
“What the hell does that have to do with it?”
“It's a post-combat thing, you get crazy.”
“What are you going to tell me-after you killed someone, you had to have sex with Sarah? You didn't have a choice? Which-don't say it-it's some soldier thing I couldn't understand. Is that it? Have I got it right?”
Ben sighed. “Alex, I'm sorry.”
And hearing those empty words, suddenly Alex hated him. Hated him more than ever. Hated him for everything he'd caused, for making Alex need him, for using the opportunity to…
“You're not sorry!” Alex bellowed, jabbing a finger at him. “You're never sorry. No matter what you do, no matter what you cause, you're never sorry!”
“What are you talking about? I just told you I was sorry.”
“Oh, bullshit.”
“Then what do you want from me, Alex? Tell me, right now, what the fuck do you want?”
“Nothing. There's nothing I want from you.”
“Yeah, well, that's good. Because I don't owe you anything. And you've never been grateful for it anyway. All you know how to do is complain, assuming you even notice what I do for you in the first place.”
“What you do for me? Jesus Christ, how can anyone be this blind?”
“Blind?” Ben said. “I'm blind? All I do is save your ass when you get in over your head. It's just like school, only now the people who are after you aren't just going to beat you up, they're going to kill you, and you think you have some kind of right to my protection, so much of a right it doesn't even occur to you to say thank you for it. Well, I'm sick of it. It's the same old shit and I'm sick of it.”
“You want me to be grateful to you because you fended off a few high school bullies, Ben? You killed Katie. You killed her. Why don't you just-”
Ben moved in so fast Alex didn't have time to react. He hit Alex in the chest with both hands and Alex flew backward into the wall behind him. His head ricocheted against the plaster and he saw stars. Ben grabbed him by the fabric of the shirt and shoved him against the wall, his knuckles digging into his throat. Alex grabbed Ben's wrists and tried to tear them away, but it was useless. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. Ben was roaring something incoherent, his breath hot on Alex's face, his teeth bared. Alex drew his arm back to punch him but the wall was right behind him and he couldn't get any leverage. He hit Ben in the jaw but it did nothing. He felt his lungs spasming for air and thought, Oh God, he's trying to kill me, he's really going to kill me, and he panicked. He brought a knee up but Ben's hips were turned, his groin out of reach. He clawed at Ben's hands, then at his face. The force of the knuckles grinding into his throat worsened.
A distant part of his mind whispered, Gun. Gun. Gun.
He groped blindly for the gun in his pocket. The contours of the room seemed to be receding behind Ben's face, clots of gray creeping in at the edges of everything.
Gun. Gun. Gun…
Ben shot a knee into his balls. There was an explosion of pain in his abdomen, a burst of light behind his eyes. Ben stepped away from him and he fell to the floor, choking and retching.
Ben squatted down and pulled the gun out of Alex's pocket, then stepped away from him.
“What are you going to do, Alex, you going to shoot me? Is that what you want to do?”
Alex managed to get to his knees. He clutched his throat and his stomach and sucked in a single sickening gasp of air.
“You want to shoot me?” Ben said again. “You think I killed Katie? And Dad? And Mom? You think it's all my fault? Well, here's your chance to avenge them. Go ahead.”
There was a solid thunk on the carpet next to him. He glanced over and saw the gun Ben had taken from him.
He wheezed and fought the urge to vomit. I'll kill you, he thought.
“Come on, tough guy,” Ben said. “Don't have the courage of your convictions?”
Alex picked up the gun and pointed it at Ben's face. He imagined squeezing the trigger, imagined Ben flying backward from the force of the bullet hitting him.
“That's it,” Ben said. “That's the way. Go ahead, Alex. I'm the guy who killed our whole family, right? I did it all, it's all my fault. Go ahead.”
Just pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. Wipe that smirk off his face for good.
Ben shook his head disgustedly. “I'm not going to wait forever, asshole. This is your chance. If you want to take the shot, take it.”
Alex pulled himself to his feet, still sucking wind. He hated that Ben wasn't even afraid. More than anything, he hated that.
Then make him afraid. Do it. He tried to kill you. Do it. Katie. Mom. Dad. Do it do it do it DO IT.
The common door opened to his left. He glanced over. It was Sarah.
“Stop it!” she yelled.
Ben glanced over at her, then back to Alex. “Last chance,” he said.
“Alex, are you insane?” Sarah said. “Put the gun down. Just put it down!”
God, he wanted to do it. And the thought of caving in to his sneering piece-of-shit brother brought up a fresh wave of nausea.
But he couldn't. He knew it. And the realization that Ben knew it, too, had known it all along, was infuriating.
Without thinking, he cocked his arm and hurled the gun at Ben's head. It cracked him in the forehead and Ben went down.
Sarah yelled, “Alex!”
“Okay,” Alex said. “Now it's your turn. Go ahead.”
Ben sat up. A rivulet of blood oozed from a gash in his forehead. He picked up the gun.
“You want to kill me?” Alex said, jerking his thumbs at his own chest. “You killed everyone else. Go ahead. Kill me, too.”
Ben wiped his fingers across his forehead. He looked at the blood on them, then wiped them on his robe. “If I gave a shit about you,” he said, “I would. But I don't. We're done. You're on your own.”
He walked over to the pile of clothes on the floor, dropped the robe as though Alex and Sarah weren't even there, and pulled on his pants, then his shoes, then the buttonless shirt, and then his jacket. He picked up his bag and pulled Alex's and Sarah's cell phones from it. He tossed the phones on the bed and slung the bag over his shoulder.
“Ben,” Sarah said. He walked right past her, into the bathroom, as though she weren't there. A few seconds later he came out with a washcloth pressed against his forehead.
“Ben,” Sarah said again.
Ben paused and looked at her. “It was a mistake,” he said. “Forget about it.”
Then he opened the door and walked through it. It clacked closed behind him and he was gone.
The room was weirdly silent for a moment. Sarah said, “What the hell happened?”
“Nothing,” Alex said, suddenly resenting her. He'd brought her along just to help her, because she might be in danger. And she repaid him by fucking his brother. Alex was up all night cracking Obsidian while the two of them went at it like bunnies. Well, the hell with that. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone.