My Brother's Best Friend

by Nikki Chase

  “I guess I just did,” I admit.

  “I like that you’re so affectionate these days, angel.” Gabe’s arms tighten around me. He’s making it hard for me to breathe, but I don’t mind it. He could do whatever he wants to me and I’d like it.

  Besides, compared to the pain in my heart, this is nothing.

  He thinks I’ve been affectionate? I’ve actually been holding myself back a lot. I wasn’t worried about how this was going to mess with my mind in the beginning, but it’s all I can think about now.

  I’m in too deep to get out of this unscathed. When this ends—and it will end—I’m going to have scars all over my heart. Then it will scab over, and the hard crust will make it impossible for another man to enter.

  I’ve seen grieving widows at the hospital. I know the fate that’s waiting for me. Although we’ve only been seeing each other for a short while, I’ve loved him my whole life. I can’t imagine someone else taking his place. Ever.

  I’m doomed to die alone. When Gabe leaves, I should adopt a few cats from the shelter and get a head start on my transformation into the neighborhood’s crazy cat lady.

  Maybe Mom won’t mind helping with feeding and cleaning after the cats; she’s idle at home most days. But should I be worried about Ray doing something mean like kicking a kitten?

  “You were so sexy that night, angel,” Gabe says, his fingers digging into my flesh. “You were also lovely and innocent. But also sinfully hot. You were a lot of things.”

  I giggle. Those words should sound silly to me, but they make the butterflies in my stomach flutter because it’s Gabe saying them.

  This is so stupid.

  I’m stupid. For getting myself into this mess.

  “What made you come up to talk to me that night?” he asks.

  “Shouldn’t I have done that?” I deflect the question.

  “Angel, that was the best thing to have happened to me in a long time. You're crazy if you think I have a problem with you having done that.” Gabe chuckles.

  Boy, you don't know what I’ve gotten you into, I think to myself.

  Gabe says, “You could've approached any guy and he probably would've been happy to pop your cherry for you.”

  Is that what he thinks that was? That I was just looking for any guy to lose my virginity to?

  “Well, you did win the award.” I hope he’ll give up and stop asking such tough questions.

  Gabe laughs. “Good point. I’m also about forty years younger than the other guys.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m glad you picked me.” He grabs my chin and turns my head so I face him. “I really like you, Jacqueline.”

  My heart stops.

  This is all I’ve ever wanted my whole life. It’s within my reach but I can never have it.

  “I like you too, Gabriel. I’ve had a lot of fun this past couple of weeks,” I say, trying to sound casual.

  My lips and tongue feel stiff. It’s so hard to get the words out. But I have to do this.

  This is as far as Gabe and I can go. I can’t, in good conscience, let things go any further.

  A small frown appears on Gabe’s forehead, but he quickly hides it.

  “It makes me happy to hear that.” He smiles, then he lets go of my waist and leans on the balustrade beside me, our arms touching. “I came here to talk to you about something.”

  I tilt my head and look at him.

  Gabe stares far ahead at the open ocean. Below us, a handful of people walk across the footpath along the beach, their flip-flops and feet covered with sand.

  “I thought the views would help make it easier to have this conversation, but this is still pretty hard,” Gabe says without looking at me.

  “What is it?”

  Did he find out about who I am?

  My heartbeat quickens as my brain goes through all the possible reasons for Gabe to feel like he needs to have a serious talk with me.

  No, he wouldn’t be able to remain this calm if he knew.

  “I love that you trust me enough to let me push your boundaries. It’s a privilege to be the one to introduce you to these things,” Gabe says. “But that also means that I have the responsibility to let you know who I really am, so you can decide for yourself if it’s a good idea to trust someone like me.”

  “This sounds serious,” I say nervously. I feel like I know where this is going, and I don’t like it.

  “It’s a matter of life and death.” Gabe huffs a wry, quiet laugh. He turns to me and stares at me with stormy green eyes. “Jacqueline, I killed someone.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” I say, a little too quickly.

  Shut up! You’re not even supposed to know what’s happened.

  Listening to the voice screaming in my head, I add, “I mean, I can’t imagine you doing something like that.”

  “It’s true. And he was my best friend,” Gabe says.

  Okay, so I guess we’re talking about it now, then. I count my breaths and slow them down so I don’t hyperventilate.

  “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to believe what I say. Just listen,” Gabe says.

  Obviously, he thinks I’ve been stunned into silence by his shocking confession. In reality, I’ve known all along.

  “I had a friend. Well, he was more like a brother. We grew up together.” He pauses and his lips form a thin smile as he looks at the waves in the distance.

  “Do you miss him?” I try to stabilize my voice. It comes out a little shaky, but Gabe probably mistakes my own grief for shock over his big revelation.

  “Every day. Every day, I think about how much fun I’d be having if he were around, and I hate myself for what I did.” Gabe gives me a sad smile. “He would’ve loved to meet you.”

  My chest pangs with pain.

  I don’t know if it’s because of grief or because I hate seeing Gabe tortured like this when I know he hasn’t done anything wrong.

  It’s been eight years. And every day during those eight years, he’s blamed himself. My heart breaks at the thought.

  “My friend, he… He used to be this happy, cheerful, outgoing guy. Then, he changed. Maybe he couldn’t stand the pressure of medical residency, or maybe he’d always been depressed.” Gabe lets out a big sigh.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “And it kills me that I don’t know. I was supposed to be his best friend. I failed him.”

  “You didn’t kill him,” I say, putting one hand on his shoulder.

  “That’s not the whole story.”

  I know. I know “the whole story.”

  “He became more and more isolated,” Gabe says. “We were sharing an apartment but I barely saw him. I thought it was just because we were both medical students, and then medical residents, so I chalked it up to us being busy. He seemed to be always sleeping when I was home.”

  I remember that time. I was texting him a lot and would only get short, one-word replies. I thought he was just busy, too.

  “One day, he emerged from his room. He was chatty. He was acting like his old self. We had a nice conversation. We laughed a lot.” Gabe exhales loudly. “That was the last time we talked.

  “He told me he’d gotten into target shooting. He showed me his hands, and they had these little red and black marks on them.” Gabe opens up both his hands with his palms facing up. “Powder burns.

  “He said his gun blew up and he asked if he could borrow mine. I told him we should go target shooting together, and he said we’d go next week, because he’d already made plans to go with a bunch of his other friends,” he says, his breathing growing more labored with regret.

  “Well, he wasn’t around anymore by the week after that. He shot himself the very next day. With my gun.”

  Tears well up in Gabe’s green eyes, making them appear like they’re shining from the way they reflect the moonlight.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I say as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him close.

 
I’ve always wanted to do this—when I saw him watch the funeral from a distance, or when my family was yelling at him, blaming him for Sam’s suicide. I know how much It hurt him, and I’ve always wanted to be a source of comfort and absolution for him.

  “I should’ve seen the signs,” Gabe says. “I was his best friend and his roommate. I should’ve known better than to lend him a fucking gun when he’d been acting weird for weeks.” He wipes his eyes and blink a few times as he gains his composure.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I repeat. I’d repeat this sentence as many times as it takes to heal him. “If he really wanted to do it, he would’ve found some other way to do it.” I rub his back soothingly.

  “That’s not what a lot of people thought. They saw me as the piece of shit who handed a gun to a suicidal guy. Hell, they probably still see me as a killer.”

  “Well, I’m not one of those people.”

  “You weren’t there,” he says.

  I was. I know everything. I just can’t tell you.

  “You think I have things under control, but you don’t know me, angel.” Gabe stares intensely into my eyes.

  You don’t know just how much I know you.

  “You still haven’t used your safe word yet, and it worries me,” he says. “I wonder if you’re doing things you’re not comfortable with, just to please me. It makes me happy, of course. But you should know that I’m probably not as reliable as you think. I could hurt you if you give me all the reins. I don’t always know what’s going on in your head.”

  “I promise you I’ll let you know if I can’t take it.”

  “Good girl.” Gabe smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Now, do you want to tell me why you picked me that night? You don’t seem like the kind of girl who’d just go for a random guy, especially for your first time.”

  Not for the first time, I feel like I’m transparent and he’s seen through me. It’s a terrifying feeling.

  Luckily, I’ve thought of a good answer.

  “You got me,” I say, hiding my face in the crook of his neck so he wouldn’t see my expression. “Ever since I started working at Hill Crest Hospital, I’d been dying to see you. Some of the nurses had been clamoring about your return for months.”

  “So you decided to give me your virginity based on some gossip?”

  “Well, no, I thought I was just going to talk to you, but then… Then it turned into something else.” I bite my bottom lip and look up at him from under my eyelashes, hoping we can end this conversation and just get back to fucking.

  I don’t need things to get any more intense emotionally. But my body can take anything he gives me.

  A smile spreads across Gabe's cheeks. “I see. You just couldn't resist me, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I return his smile.

  Just as I’d hoped, Gabe pulls me into his arms and gives me a passionate kiss. I fight the urge to melt into his arms and give into his lips.

  Instead, I turn around to face the ocean and rub the front of Gabe’s pants with my palm. He’s already hard.

  I look back at him over my shoulder, maintaining eye contact as I slide my panties down my legs and step out of them.

  I raise my hand behind me, place it behind his neck, and pull him close. I stick my ass out until I feel his hard-on.

  As I let out a small moan, Gabe flips up the back of my skirt.

  “You're wet, angel,” he says in a hoarse voice as he runs his fingers over my pussy lips.

  “Yeah. I’m ready for you.” I grind my ass back against Gabe.

  I hear his groan and the sound of his fly being unzipped, and I know I’ve won this round.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper as he spears into me. I hold on to the rough stone of the balustrade and look out into the ocean.

  I’m glad he can't see my face right now, because a tear has just escaped my right eye. It dries quickly in the cool breeze.

  I need Gabe to fuck the pain out of my heart, until all I can feel is the pain he inflicts on my body, and the pleasure that's bound to follow.

  “Hurt me,” I whisper, and he does.

  He pinches my nipple and bites the back of my neck until I sigh and whimper.

  This hurts so good.

  Sam

  Age: 24

  Six days a week, I get up at 4:30 a.m. If I’m lucky, I reach home by 7 p.m.

  I eat. I study. I sleep. And then I do it all over again.

  None of the other interns seem to be burning out as much as I am. Gabe even has enough time to help out his dad, a senior attending physician at Hill Crest Hospital.

  No one said medical school and medical internship were going to be easy. But I had no idea just how tough it is until I began to experience it myself.

  I try to act like one of the other guys, but I think they can tell I’m different. They can see how much I’m struggling.

  I don’t care what they think of me. But Jackie… I try my best to shield her from the darkness that shrouds me, except that shield is cracking. I can see the fault lines.

  All those times I wear a blank expression on happy occasions. Or the times I fail to reply to her text messages.

  She’s out with Gabe now. They’re watching the fireworks at the opening celebration of the big art gallery downtown.

  They wanted me to come with them, but I said I had some work to do. Jackie’s sixteen now, so she’s old enough to go places on her own.

  Despite Mom and Dad’s neglect, she’s grown up with a good head on her shoulders.

  She gets along well with people around her, even those older than her, like Gabe and a handful of my other friends. She’s pretty mature for her age, so I’m not surprised to notice that she even has a crush on Gabe. I thought that having grown up together she’d think of him as a brother, but I guess not.

  I can trust Gabe to not take advantage of her, though. And I can trust Jackie to take good care of herself.

  She’s pretty well-adjusted, fortunately—unlike me.

  It looks like I’ve done a pretty good job at helping her escape my fate. Maybe my time on Earth hasn’t been in vain after all.

  I was planning on hanging around until she turns eighteen, but I don’t think I can take two more years of this hell.

  And to think that once I finish my internship, I can look forward to the same depressing work and the same life-sucking schedule as I have now.

  I thought it was going to feel rewarding to help people. But sometimes I feel like a glorified dispenser of medication, like patients see me as just a supplier of service and not a person.

  I thought medicine was going to give me a sense of purpose, but all I get are exhaustion and disappointment.

  I feel like a failure.

  Maybe it’s not that my patients suck, but I have poor bedside manners. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a doctor.

  Sometimes I think I should see a professional about these issues, but that would be tantamount to career suicide. The medical licensing board doesn’t like it when a doctor has a history of mental illness. If the news gets out, it could also make it hard for me to find a job or even get insurance.

  Besides, it feels weird to need other people to look after me, when it’s usually the other way around.

  I weigh the handgun in front of me, transferring the heft from one hand to another.

  After a lot of thinking, I’ve decided a gunshot to the head would be the fastest, most painless way to go. It took me a while to come up with a good cover story to borrow Gabe’s gun. I even faked a convincing injury.

  It’s now or never.

  I don’t think I can last another day.

  God, if you’re real and this is wrong… I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.

  And Jackie… It breaks my heart to imagine you finding out about my death. I wish I could keep going, even if it’s only for your sake. I know I’m being selfish… but I hope you’ll be able to forgive me some day.

  I remove the safety and press the deadly barrel of the gun up against
my chin.

  It’s cold. Like death.

  I’ve always been amazed by how cold dead bodies are. Sometimes, I envy the dead their peace. They just lie there, unaware of the pain that the living endure. Uncaring. Nothing touches them anymore.

  My heart rate goes up, and my breathing gets erratic. My (admittedly sick) mind knows it’s time to go, but my body still hangs on out of pure instinct.

  I have to win this battle.

  My final battle.

  My hands are shaking, but I can’t miss. Not when I can feel the cold, hard steel underneath my jaw.

  All I have to do is squeeze the trigger.

  Just one little squeeze with one finger. That’s all it takes to end this pain.

  I scan my bedroom. This is the last thing I’m ever going to see.

  But I feel no sadness. I’ve seen enough of this world.

  I close my eyes.

  On the count of three.

  I take a deep breath.

  One…

  … Two…

  … Three.

  I pull the trigger.

  Bang.

  Jacqueline

  “What do you think?” Gabe asks.

  “It’s nice.”

  I’m being honest. This is one of the best apartments I’ve seen in the city. It’s small, but stylish and well located.

  And I grew up rich. I went to private school and everything. I know what I’m talking about, when it comes to expensive properties.

  In fact, when It happened, I was starting to plan the purchase of my first investment property. But then in the aftermath of Sam’s suicide, Mom and Dad got divorced and I began seeing Dad less and less often, so I never even got a chance to ask him about funding any hot deals for me.

  This is totally the kind of property I’d buy, had I still have my dad’s financial backing.

  I was planning to get a place for myself to move into when I turn eighteen. I thought I could rent it out if I happened to, say, take a semester abroad as an exchange student. I wanted to spend some time in France learning the language.