“Let go of me!”
“Liam, wait, wait!” Becka panted, trying to hold her brother back.
“I’m going to tear him limb from limb,” Liam grunted, his eyes never leaving the smug smile mocking them from the television. “I am going to go out there right now, and hunt him down, and I swear to god, Becka, I’m gonna kill him.”
Becka sighed, then released her hold, watching him tumble to the ground. “You are being stupid,” she said with a huff. “If you track him down now, who do you think is going to suffer more? Him, being dead, or you, rotting in prison? If you aren’t shot first.” She glanced at the TV, watching as the man she hated more than anyone left the courthouse. She fumed at his arrogance as he talked to reporters about how justice had been served.
Served for who? Not for Cam, their little brother, who had been caught up in his schemes, who had just been the getaway driver, who had been killed in the ensuing car chase. And somehow, this rat, this snake, had made it sound like he had been dragged along unwillingly, that he was somehow a victim, instead of the mastermind. And their baby brother had taken the fall, since he was dead, and couldn’t defend himself.
Becka turned away from the TV, and sank to the floor next to Liam.
He sniffed gruffly, brushing tears from his eyes. “He can’t get away with this. It’s his fault, everyone who knows anything about it knows it’s his fault. Those assholes,” he said, gesturing to the lawyers now filling the screen, “they don’t know. They don’t know him, they didn’t know Cam… He was only seventeen, Becka.”
“I know,” she whispered, leaning her head against the wall. “I know.”
“They said that justice won. They said that the right thing happened, that karma or some shit had worked itself out. That it was Cam’s fault somehow.”
Becka had never heard Liam’s voice so shaky, not even when he gave the eulogy at their father’s funeral. She was torn between her own rage, and compassion for her remaining brother. She felt like she was going to explode from so much pent up emotion.
“You know karma isn’t real, right? That it’s just some bullshit he is saying for the news?”
Liam shrugged. “It’s not like any of us are angels though, are we? What if-”
“Don’t even say it,” Becka snapped, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t ever. Cam didn’t do anything besides get duped into helping a psychopath kill someone. Cam. Did. Not. Deserve. This.”
“But what about him?” Liam sniffed, pointing at the screen. “How come he always gets off, no problem, with all the shit he’s pulled over the years? Don’t you think there has to be something out there, pulling the strings?”
“No,” she said bluntly. “I think the world just sucks. And isn’t fair.” She sighed.
“Well,” Liam continued, slumping farther down the wall. “I guess if there is some kind of karma, it has to catch up with him at some point.”
Becka had been worried Liam would run out and do something stupid a few minutes ago, but watching her brother so defeated was infinitely worse.
“I’m not letting karma, or whatever, deal with this. I can’t trust it’ll be enough of a punishment,” she said, giving herself a shake. “Or that it’d be fast enough.” She scrubbed her face, waking herself back up.
She stood, eyes trained on the TV. “Come on.”
“What?”
“If we’re gonna make him suffer, make him pay, nice and slow, we need to start planning. Come on, get up.” She held out her hand, and pulled Liam to his feet.
“But where would we even start?” he asked.
“Where he does,” she said, watching as the man who killed her little brother laughed at something a reporter said. “We find his weak spot, and make it hurt.”
Inspired by a writing prompt from The Character Comma’s prompt generator.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020