Wishes In The Dark - A Peterick Fanfiction

Twenty Eight

I watch in horror as Andrew rushes to the kitchen sink and starts to wash the thick coating of blood off his hands. What on earth has he done?!

"Andrew," I say quietly. "What happened?"

"I...I don't know..."

He sounds (and looks) panicky. He must have done something terrible. But what did he do?!

"Ha-have you got the drugs?" I ask timidly.

He shakes his head swiftly and to my surprise, my heart sinks. I guess it's because Pete will have to stay in the 'cold turkey' state for a while, and he'll be in pain. But is it for the best?

"You...you went to Chelsea, right?"

He nods. His hands are almost clean now, but he's vigorously scrubbing at his hands like there's a stain on them that refuses to go away. He looks tortured; he looks haunted. Should I step in? He can't wash away any more blood stains – his hands are clean.

"Andrew, your hands are clean," I say, putting on my brave face.

Suddenly he freezes and turns his head to look at me with terrified eyes. I turn off the sink for him and he stumbles his way onto a chair at the dining table. I take a seat opposite him and wait for him to speak. He's even got blood on his shirt – what on earth happened?

"I...I..."

He looks as though he's about to break down and cry.

"I killed her," he admits.

I fight to hold back a gasp. Why did he kill her? How did he kill her? Did he need to? Was it self-defence? Do I even want to know the details?

"Patrick," Pete calls out from the bathroom. "What's going on?"

I can tell it's a struggle for him to speak that loud. He should be resting, recovering. But now that he's awake, he has a right to know what's happened.

I make my way to the bathroom, where Pete is sitting in front of the open door like a dog eagerly waiting for its owner to return.

"Chelsea is dead," I say bluntly. "Andrew...Andrew killed her."

Pete stares into space blankly for a moment, before leaning over the toilet and vomiting. During his vomiting, I leave the bathroom and return to Andrew, who's sobbing into his arms.

"I'm a killer," he cries. "I'm a murderer. I'm a fucking murderer."

I don't know how to comfort him. Now one brother is saying that he is a "fucking addict" and the other brother is saying that he is a "fucking murderer". What should I do?

And that's when the Police arrive.

------

It all happens so quickly, yet it seems like slow motion.

The Police officers ask for Andrew; turns out they've been pursuing him since the...incident. Pete struggles to stand and hobbles over to the door, where they handcuff his big brother. And they take him away...

As he's taken further down the corridor, Pete and I can hear him crying out for us. Neither of us move; we just stand there in front of the open door, staring into space. I look at Pete, but he doesn't seem phased at all. He really must hate his brother. It reminds me of the day when Kevin took me away from Mom's house. She was crying and screaming for me, but I did nothing. I don't regret it though; now I've met Pete, and I think I'm in love.

After a long while, I shut the door and turn to Pete.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"He wasn't my brother," he replies. "Ever since our parents died he neglected me for his asshole friends and so-called girlfriend Chelsea. He never cared for me. He wasn't my brother."