"Are you ready for this?"

The question ate away at me, lingering and unanswered.

Was I?

Well, that was a dumb fucking question. Of course I wasn't.

Did I have to do it? Of course I fucking didn't.

Did I want to? Tumbleweeds blew as I waited for my alter ego to decide the answer to that one.

"If my brother hates me," I said softly. "Then I don't know what I'd do."

From where he sat, perched on top of the kitchen counter, dressed all in black for work, he regarded me with the most peculiar of looks. The tell-tale signs of interrupted sleep needled dark rings beneath his...