~~ Interlude ~~

I wake at 6:48am and I do not know why.

I wait for 12 minutes, one fifth of an hour, staring up at the ceiling of a house nicer than anybody my age can afford and wishing it would burn down around me. I am weak. I am pathetic. I am broken, fundamentally, in ways which cannot be repaired. I am suffocated by awareness of my surroundings. I need- I need to-

Vigilance. I must be vigilant, because it is my responsibility and- only though constant effort can I-

Vigilance is-

Vigilance-

I do not need to check the cameras for I know that they are empty. I check them anyway, from duty and desperate hope. I am alone. There is this drowning, suffocating feeling in my chest and I cannot- I cannot-

I make my bed because if I don’t I am a failure. I run on the treadmill until my legs burn, until sweat drips stinging into my eyes and still I am slower than last week. I do not get better. I am never getting better. The room hums with the notes of Beethoven’s Number 14, Op. 131 on string quartet. A man who actually achieved something. A man who mattered, who will be remembered. Unlike me.

I do not shave. I do not wash myself. What is the point in papering over failure on days when no one will see it reek.

I dress, and for an instant I want to scream because I cannot stand it. The buttons around my wrist feel like handcuffs and the fabric around my neck chokes my life. I am a bag of broken pieces bound together and given a man’s appearance. Peel apart my bandages, chip open my sarcophagus, and I will be revealed as worm-addled sludge.

I check my gloves are sealed beneath the sleeves and that the sleeves are correctly buttoned, once, twice, three times. I can at least manage that, this most basic task, the bare minimum required of me. I cannot not be vigilant. Vigilance is…

I descend, not seeing where I am going. I do not eat. In the kitchen, I hold my head in my hands and stare at nothing, for there is nothing to stare at.

My very touch is poison and the only thing of worth I can do is keep it contained.

It is 8:12am. I have not killed anything yet. It is my only measure of success.

*

Eventually I find the energy to rise. To shuffle to my study, to sit in the cold office chair and reach out to the Internet. To my world of faceless strangers.

I am alone, I tell them, I cannot do this.

Responses fall like rain. Persevere. Seek help. Go outside. Exercise. Have you tried this book, have you tried this medication, are you eating healthy. All correct. All useless.

You cannot understand, I write, I can never be with her. I love her.

Instantly, the song changes. I am a fool. I am blind. I am every man in history. I am noble. I am a coward. I just need to make a change.

Just tell her how you feel, some of the voices whisper. Things to say, things to wear, ways to test intimate boundaries with discreet movements and subtle touch. My chest aches and tears are falling and I cannot remember when they started. I will never touch her, I explain, I will never hold anyone. You cannot understand.

Yet the voices do not despair. The faceless do not retreat. Take a chance, take a leap, they whisper. Trust yourself, believe in yourself, take the plunge.

What is the worst thing that can happen? Everybody gets rejected.

You can’t get any more alone.

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Just go for it.

Reach out.

*

I do not know when it got dark; I only know that when my phone rings and I look up darkness has fallen and the screen in front of me sears the room with unnatural light. I glance down, the notes of the ringtone jarring, my heart hammering, a startled, discordant beat. They are coming for me. They have sensed my thoughts, my weakness, my urges. They know.

No. It is just my brother. Panic gives way to resignation, though the light-headedness remains. When did I last eat? When did I last drink? What time is it?

My fingers slide clumsy across the screen.

“Qiang, is that you?”

“Of course it’s me Liang. You called my number. Who else…” Unseen, my shoulders slump as the thought trails off.

Silence.

“I need to talk to you.”

I feel a brief flash of frustration at this man, my so-called brother, who has always been an idiot, who has never worked for anything in his life. “You are talking to me.”

Another pause.

“Is this line secure?”

“Is what line- Liang grow up. Nobody is listening. This is not a spy thriller.”

“Please just say-”

“What? You want me to lie?” My insides flare with anger and suddenly I want to throw the phone across the room, want to reach through the screen and strangle this worthless imbecile with my bare hands. “Get over yourself. Of course this connection is private. It is every time we use it, it’s encrypted, it’s what we pay for.” Liang does not respond. “What do you need? Money?”

Silent seconds pass.

“Brother, I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I… I used it.”

Suddenly my heart stops. My lips move, but my mouth is dust.

“Qiang?”

“How?”

“I… does it matter?”

“You fool!” I shout, and my fingers clench the phone in front of me, “You ignorant fool, how did you… what have you done?!”

“I had to brother, I had-”

“Did anybody see?”

“No. I don’t think so. Qiang I’m sorry, I made a mistake and-”

“Who was it?”

“I cannot-”

“Who?!

A pause. A sob.

“M.”

“Who?”

“Melody.”

“The woman?”

“My heart.” He is crying now, even through the phone I can hear him, sniffing and sobbing and shaking with his soft fat hands. The room around me spins.

“Who was it?”

“Who-”

“Who was it Qiang? Who did you take?”

Silence now; then-

“Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“No… no one of importance, I… she was unwell, very unwell, and so I took her to a hospital and sat her near a dying patient and I-”

Lies. All lies. I know when Liang is lying because every time he speaks he is lying and he is speaking now, the words tumbling forth like acid rain.

“-some old woman, some no one, they thought she was going to die anyway and they’ll never know, Qiang they’ll never know-”

“Murderer,” I hiss, and were that my words blades to draw blood, “All your time spent lecturing me, all your patronising, all your spite. And it is you. You who is irresponsible. You stupid, craven drug addict, you do not deserve your gifts, you do not deserve your life.”

“Yes,” my brother begs, “Yes, Qiang, I know, you are right, everything you say, but I… you have to help me, I-”

“Help you?” I spit, “Help you how? The damage is done, it sounds like, Liang the gluttonous, Liang the idiot, Liang who takes what he will.”

“What if they find me? Brother you have to help me, I can’t go to jail, I can’t-”

I force my shaking hands to stillness. “Quiet. Quiet!” I close my eyes, squeezing hard against my temples. “Did anybody see you?”

“I… I don’t think so.”

“Does the woman know?”

“Melody. No, she was… she won’t remember.”

I clench my head in my hands, and it feels as though my skull is about to break. Liang must sense my thoughts.

“Brother you cannot tell anyone.”

“Then why did you tell me?”

“You cannot. I beg of you. We can’t undo this.”

We can. I can. And then maybe she dies. And maybe he is taken away, the last of our family, my sole link to the truth, my sole lifeline.

“I will not do it myself,” I promise. The words fill my throat like foaming bile. “If they come for you, if they ask me to do it. I will refuse.”

“Please Qiang, no, oh God-”

There are tears in his words now, wretched misery. In my mind, I see brief glimpses of summer days. Years long past. Time spent playing together, children’s adventures, conspiracies. Before that day. Before everything.

The memories are faint but I cannot shake them.

“I will not tell,” I swear, and I cannot tell if the oath feels ill or good, “It won’t come from me, I promise. But Liang, you cannot do this. You cannot continue, you must make it right, be responsible‑”

“I know brother,” he begs, “I know. I will change. I’ll be better. It was a one-off, a mistake, I swear it, and never again will I-”

Suddenly, in the distant background, there comes a new voice. A woman’s voice. Beautiful, soft with moonlight and chimes.

“Baby, where are you? I’m alone.”

“I have to go,” Liang whispers urgently. And then the call drops.

Suddenly, the house is quiet. Suddenly I am back in the darkness, in a cold chair in silence and stillness. Unable to think. Unable to move. Alone and unloved as half a world away my worthless, lecherous brother returns to a life devoid of consequences. To fall into the embrace of his Eurydice; to feel her compassion against his soul.

My fingernails draw blood.

~~ End Interlude ~~