It’s Not Suicide

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Blood. Wow. I did kill him. I killed my own brother. Well, it’s his fault. He won’t allow my boyfriend and I to stay in this house — our family house. He’s… bad.

“Hon?”

“Yeah?”

“…………..”

“What happened?”

“Can you come over?”

“We just had our mind-blowing sex last night”

“What? No, you stupid. Come over. I killed my brother.”

“Are you serious?”

“Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

“10 minutes”

I waited. Dragged my brother’s body near the sink then cleaned the living room. I looked at him. Face down. He is really dead. Bless the knife.

Footsteps. I sighed with relief. My boyfriend finally arrived.

“Where is he?” my boyfriend asked as he put his keys in his pocket.

“What took you so long?”

“I said, where’s the body? I’m a police, I need to have a good excuse and I need to finish things before leaving the office.”

“There” I said while pointing at my brother “At least we have the house now to ourselves”

“Good thing no one saw you. Do you know what you’ve just done?”

“Yes, I made this house ours. What will we do with him?”

“Well, you just killed him so we need to… get rid of him.”

“Bury him?”

“I don’t know”

“We got cement at the back of this house”

“You’re out of your mind”

My boyfriend dragged my brother’s body at the back of the house. I cleaned the sink area then went at the back to my man. He already started cementing my brother. So far, my brother’s feet is covered.

“What are you looking at? Help me.”

We finished at around 3 a. m. Looking at what we’ve done, I realized that I can’t bare to live inside a house with a cemented man.

“I’ll have this house for lease.” I told my boyfriend

— — — — — — — — — — — — –

It’s been three months since that day. The house is already being rented to be owned. From Antipolo, we’re now in Laguna.

I looked at the clock. My man is late for dinner again. My phone ringed.

“Yes ma’am? Any problem with the house?”

“Who’s the dead man at the back? Did you cemented him? Why is he there? You’re a murderer. I’ll tell the police!” Her panic is obvious

“What are you talking about ma’am?” My calmest voice. Ever.

“HA! Don’t act innocent. The cement you murderers used just cracked”

“Ma’am you’re blabbing”

“No. We both know that I’m not. We both know what I’m talking about” She ended the call.

I dialed my man. “Go home please. They already know. They will tell the cops!” I’ve been shouting at the dial tone.

I was shaking. I packed all the things inside our bags, took a bath then dry my hair. Babe, where the fuck are you? Facing the mirror, as I was about to swipe my lipstick, the door rang. Finally.

“What’s your problem?!” He’s beside him

“Why did you brought him here?!!!!”

“Who?!” He closed the door behind him. He let him enter.

My brother is smiling at me.
My brother is beside him.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — –

“The suspects behind the cement murder case in Antipolo had committed suicide. The suicide was done the same day they have been reported to the police. The victim’s sister and her live-in partner were found dead inside the apartment they have been occupying in Laguna. The cause of death…”

I passed by the store. We’re the headline. I shook my head. We didn’t commit suicide. He made us drink that acid. He made us write those words on the mirror. We didn’t commit suicide. He killed us.

“Shhhhh” My man gripped on my wrist tighter.

Here he comes again.

“Come on sis, Let’s go back home.”

(originally published at my wordpress profile)