My Brother Janus is a Murderer

26

My brother Janus is a murderer.

That's what the police tell me when they open the door. The one on the right has blonde hair peeking out of his cap, and a slight beer belly that protrudes out from his wrinkled jacket. He's staring straight forward, obviously bored with the whole event.

The officer on the left is trying a more sympathetic approach, brown eyes staring at me carefully from underneath a bushy unibrow. He looks as if he's afraid I'm going to burst into tears at any moment, or maybe even try to attack them. I wonder which one he's more worried about.

"Alright," I say after a long moment.

Unibrow shifts his weight to one side. "Son, I know this is a lot to take in, but please understand we only want what's best for everyone. The… crime may have happened a while ago, but new evidence linking it to your brother was just found recently. And there are more minor charges as well. If you can tell us anything about where he might be, or who he might hang out with, we'd appreciate it. We just don't want anyone else to get hurt."

Beer Belly grunts in agreement, then flicks his eyes back to staring at my porchlight, evidently satisfied with his participation in the conversation.

"Uh, nope, sorry," I say blandly, "We haven't talked in years. We haven't lived together since we were kids, y'know? Our dad died when we were little."

"Well, if you think of anything, just let us know," Unibrow stutters a little, gracelessly changing the subject in the way that everyone does when I mention my dad's death.

The two officers leave their contact information, then turn and stomp down the porch steps to where their patrol car is parked in my driveway. I stare after them, leaning against the door, and watch quietly as they get in, exchange a glance, and back out. I watch the car go down the street until I can't see it anymore.

Then I go back inside.

5

My brother Janus is a faggot.

At least, that's what Daddy always says. He says I'm a faggot, too, and so is Mr. Carter, and Janus's friend Rico, and other cars when we're driving. But he calls Janus a faggot a lot. I think it means he's a bully, because Janus is a bully.

He always locks me in my room and doesn't let me out forever, even when I'm hungry or thirsty or need to go potty. Then he and Daddy scream and fight and everything crashes and explodes. I want to know what happens, but at the same time I'm kinda scared. So even when I'm tired or hungry or have to go potty, I don't ask to be let out. It's better if I just have an accident in my room, I think, than to go outside with Janus and Daddy.

Today, I'm sitting in my room doing homework. Mr. Carter said we have to write about our family. He said to write three whole sentences. The only paper we have at home is Daddy's taxes papers, and I can't write on those, so I use napkins instead.

Jnis is a fagit, I write, Daddy skrems lowd. Mommy is ded.

Daddy only talks about Mommy when he's sad. He sits on the couch and talks really slowly about how Mommy is dead and it's all Janus's fault. Mommy used to have blue eyes, Daddy says sometimes, and damn-could-she-dance-like-it-was-nobody's-business.

One time, I tried to dance for Daddy, to cheer him up. It didn't work. He just said fuck off and then Janus locked me in my room and they screamed for a long time. That's what they're doing right now, while I do my homework.

I hope Mr. Carter likes my sentences so much that he hangs it on the board, like he did to Gina's drawing. I've never had anything hang on the board before. I wonder what it's like.

* * *

"My mommy always reads to me before bed," Erik brags, shoving fruit snacks into his mouth, "And then daddy comes in and kisses me goodnight afterwards."

"Yeah, well so does mine!" Sarah protests, even though everyone knows that Sarah doesn't have a daddy. I tried to ask her if we could be friends once, because she didn't have a daddy and I didn't have a mommy, but she just got really mad and threw sand in my face. I don't want to be friends with Sarah anymore.

"Janus read to me before bed once," I inform them, "He read me a story called Playboy! It's kinda weird, and there's no boys playing anything, just funny ladies, but Janus says it's what big kids read." I'm proud to have an older brother who knows what's cool, even if he's mostly a big bully.

"What's it about? I heard that big kids don't read picture books. It's just words." asks Erik doubtfully, and I know he doesn't believe me. Thankfully, I've come prepared. Instead of answering, I turn around and pull the picture book out of my bag. It has a lot of weird people, but there's still words. Janus let me take the book to school after I asked him if I could show my friends what he read me. I guess sometimes he can be pretty nice after all.

"The s-scoh- the scohwluh-" I attempt to read the first page to Erik and Sarah, who look unimpressed, for a super long time. Cheeks burning red and eyes prickling with heat, I soon put the book down on my lap and stammer out an excuse. "We- we didn't start at the beginning! I don't know what page he started on!"

"Just let Mr. Carter read it for you," chimes Lazy Liam, head popping out of nowhere, "Maybe he can read it for us at naptime." Lazy Liam doesn't wait for naptime to go to sleep. He flops down wherever he is and takes a nap on his own. I can't imagine wanting to take a nap. His life must suck. Still, it's a good idea.

"I will," I declare, ready to show off in front of the class. And I do.

That's the first time Mr. Carter calls home that year. It's not the last.

12

My brother Janus is an animal.

When he and Dad go at it, they really go at it. I learned how to open the window and sneak out of my room a couple of months ago, and I like to go around the house and peek in the kitchen window to watch them fight. Dad blunders around like a clumsy giant from a fairy tale, stomping and smashing everywhere. I've learned first-hand that once he's got you, it's over. But Janus is like a beast. He's everywhere and nowhere all at once, ducking and twisting and biting anything he can reach.

I used to think he was like a hero, locking me in my room to protect me while he fought off the fearsome dragon. But really, Janus is the one that feeds the dragon. He locks me in my room, and then he shoves Dad around, baiting him and filling him up with drink after drink until he's so wobbly he can hardly string a sentence together.

Then Dad goes for him, and he fights back. I've seen Janus whack a plate over Dad's head, and then watch with an expressionless face as Dad moans on the ground, blood seeping through his hair. He always bandages Dad up afterwards, though, like an apology. Washes the plate, washes his hands, and then pulls out the bread and makes me a peanut butter sandwich, all smiles and teasing jokes.

Sometimes I think I should tell someone. I never do. I just make sure to thank Janus for the sandwich, and not look too closely at the plate it's served on. You never know when he could feel like feeding another dragon.

* * *

Tulip Cearver asked me to the winter formal dance.

My brain is stuck on that fact.

Tulip Cearver. The hottest girl in school, and coincidently, the richest.

"You want me to rent a limo?" asks Janus, clearly amused, "It's just some dumbass middle school dance. You know that, right?"

"Shut it," I growl at him. I don't have time to deal with Janus right now. I recheck my hair in the grimy bathroom mirror. I can see Janus's reflection behind mine, where he's leaning up against the doorway, grinning mischievously. I shake my comb at it threateningly. "I swear, if you mess this up for me…"

"Chill, man," Janus concedes, raising his hands in surrender like we both don't know he can kick my ass in an actual fight, "Stay outta the way, keep the old man outta the way, let you get your game on."

I narrow my eyes at him. It feels like he's making fun of me, but for the life of me I can't tell how. Just then, the doorbell rings with its strangled, off-key pitch. Oh, crap. She's here. Tulip Cearver.

I must look as panicked as I feel, because Janus sighs and reaches over to smack me on the shoulder. "Don't stress it, kid. Either she likes you or she doesn't. But she must've asked you for a reason."

It's strangely comforting. As he disappears around the corner to stop Dad from answering the door, I take a deep breath. Okay.

By the time I open the door, which involves removing the block of wood from the floor because our lock is broken, Tulip Cearver is visibly annoyed. She looks like a million bucks, which is probably less than what her clothes cost, but it's slightly ruined by the scowl etched on to her face.

"You live here?" is the first thing she says, eyeing the neighborhood with a wrinkled nose.

"Yep," I reply, taking in her tight crimson dress that ends just below her knees. Wow. Tulip Cearver, man. "You ready to go?"

"Hang on," she sniffs, "My dad said we had to pick you up instead of the other way around because he wanted to talk to your brother. Janey?" She's obviously unimpressed, which is generally the reaction around Janus. I have no clue why Mr. Cearver would want to talk to Janus, but it's no concern of mine.

"Janus!" I shout back through the house, "Mr. Cearver wants to talk to you!" There's an answering thump, and then a loud crash. "He's coming," I assure Tulip.

She sighs, regarding me critically. "Where are your parents?" she asks, looking behind me as if they might suddenly materialize and explain everything.

Before I can answer, Janus pops out from the side of the house, sporting a wide grin and bright eyes. There's a newly reddened patch on his cheek and a thin red line dripping from his nose. He must have locked Dad in his room and escaped out the window. When Dad is drunk enough, he can't figure out how to get around the planks we nailed over it.

"Why, hello," Janus says, and Tulip shrieks and spins around. He tips over in a theatrical bow, still high off of the adrenaline from fighting with Dad. Tulip looks between us incredulously, the stalks off in a huff to get her father.

"What a bitch," Janus breathes, staring after her sardonically. I'm staring after her too, but for a different reason. Without looking away, I reach out to sock him in the stomach. Just because I'm thinking the same thing doesn't mean I'm gonna let him talk about Tulip Cearver that way.

A man comes around the corner, looking out of place in our dump of a driveway with his professional suit and shiny black shoes. He looks uncomfortable and guilty, eyes darting around like he expects someone to jump out of the overgrown weeds growing in the concrete cracks.

"I think they're watching me," Mr. Cearver hisses out without saying hello. Evidently, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. "You're the one they call Two-Face, right? I had my kid ask your brother out so that I could have an excuse to meet you. Get me the good shit, best you got, but real subtle. Money's not an issue, I can pay double later if you give me it now." He says all of this in one breath, and the words come out rushed and garbled, piling on top of one another and blurring together. Up close, I notice how red Mr. Cearver's eyes are and how much he's sweating, especially for how cold it is tonight.

I'm not quite sure what's happening, but Janus definitely does, because his smile only grows wider. "Of course, Mr. Cearver," he replies at a normal volume, the words unhurried and calm, "We understand. I hope your daughter feels better." He winks jauntily at me as he shakes Mr. Ceaver's hand firmly, and I see something slip up Mr. Ceaver's sleeve.

Then Janus is ushering me inside, and Mr. Ceaver's silver Jaguar is backing out of the driveway. I feel like someone has hit me over the head with a brick. What happened to the winter formal? What happened to Tulip Cearver? I spin around, my throat tight, to face Janus.

"What did you do?!" I screech, "I told you not to ruin it for me! I told you一 !" My eyes are burning and my voice is crackling, but I don't feel sad. I'm angry. And Janus just stands there, unrepentant, with his hands in his pockets and a stupid smirk on his face.

"Sorry, man," he says, shrugging, "Business is business. Harley's birthday is coming up soon, and I need spending money to get her those earrings she wants."

My gaze goes white, then red. I picture Janus's reflection, grinning mockingly at me as he watches me struggle over my hair for an hour, trying to get ready for the most important night of my life. After bragging to everyone about going to the winter formal with Tulip Cearver, for her to arrive without me...

With a bestial scream, I launch myself at my brother, grabbing him around the middle and knocking him over. While he's down, I hit him everywhere I can, scratching and punching and ripping whatever I can reach. I can hardly see anything through my hair and my angry tears. Then I feel something tear underneath my fingers, and that seems to be the trigger for Janus to start fighting back.

All at once, my brother goes from a limp body beneath me to an uncontrollable storm. I find myself flung off of him, and my head slams into the wall behind me. For a moment, I think I can feel the world stop as my brain rattles around in my head. Then it all returns, just in time for me to feel the searing, white-hot pain of my fingers snapping backwards. Janus doesn't hesitate at the sound of my wails, landing one blow after another on my stomach, my shoulders, my ribs.

I'm not sure when I pass out, but when I open my eyes the next time, I find myself in my bed. Bright beams of sunlight shine through the holes in the sheet over my window, and I have to look away from them because they make my head want to explode. Then everything hurts when I try to sit up, and I nearly pass out again. I have to stay still, gasping for breath, for a moment or two.

Carefully, I tilt my head forwards to look at myself. I'm wearing different clothes than last night (two nights ago? What day is it?) and my fingers are bound by white bandages tied to stiff rods. Something is stuffed up my nose, and there's a thick piece of cotton in my mouth. I spit it out, catching a glimpse of bright red before it falls off of the side of the bed and out of sight. The metallic taste of blood rushes through my mouth, and I try my best to swallow it down.

It takes a minute before I realize what happened. Janus whooped my ass, and then he fixed me up. Just like he does with Dad. Does that mean I was acting like Dad? If I was, then Janus was justified in beating me up. If I wasn't, and Janus was just out of control…

The door creaks open, and Janus strolls in, stopping to peer down at me. His face is unreadable. "Sorry you didn't get to go to your dumbass dance," he says casually.

I blink up at him slowly. I have plenty of options from here. I could say, Why did you beat me up? or What did you give Mr. Cearver? I could ask him how badly I was injured. I could ask if I got in any good hits on him before he went crazy.

"That's alright," I find myself mumbling, "She was kind of a bitch anyways."

19

My brother Janus is batshit crazy.

When our Dad died six years ago, allegedly of a heart attack, I thought that'd be the end of it. Thought maybe he'd gotten it out of his system. He was never violent about anyone else, not really. And he was especially never violent to me (except that one time, but we don't talk about that).

To the outside world, Janus is the perfect older brother. He treats me to food whenever we meet up. He helps me out with any issues I might be having with relationships and jobs and stuff. He even swung by to have a chat with a couple of kids who were giving me trouble back in high school. And just yesterday, he'd snuck in while my roommates and I were out partying and hid a stack of hundred dollar bills underneath my mattress.

I don't know where the money came from, and I don't want to. After I saw it, corners poking out like a porn stash from an old movie, I immediately shoved it deeper under the bed. I wrapped my hand in my blanket before, though, so I wouldn't get any fingerprints on the money.

I have no desire to be a part of whatever drug ring my brother is running, and I had hoped he knew that after last time, when I called in an anonymous tip and got him charged for drug dealing. He deserved that one, though; he had stashed $4K of his drug money in my schoolbag, and had thrown out my government textbook so it would fit. I had to pay $100 for that. I ended up keeping the money, just to shove it in his face.

And I know the stash of money here is from Janus; he left my window open, which he always does when he breaks in. It's stupid, since I know he gets in and out from the the front door, though I suppose it's just him messing around and trying to make me think he's got superpowers like I did when we were kids, and that he can somehow break into an apartment window that's on the fourth floor. It might also be him trying to make fun of me breaking out of my room through the window to spy on him and Dad when we were younger.

Honestly, I have no idea why my brother does the things he does. All I can hope is that when he comes back to collect his money, he won't notice a couple hundred dollars missing. It's his own fault for using me as a bank, anyway.

* * *

Harley knocks on the door in the middle of the night.

Derek, one of my roommates, is the only one up at 2am (studying, because he's a fucking nerd), and he lets her in, no questions asked, because why not? Idiot doesn't think serial killers can be whiny, soaking wet blonde women, I guess.

Regardless, I was pissed when he woke me up, and I'm getting more and more irritated the longer this explanation gets.

"...and so, he says, 'Get the fuck out my house, you crazy bitch,' as if I'm the one at fault! You believe me, don't you? You know your brother's a lunatic!"

"Yeah, I know that," I mumble, roughly scrubbing my face with a hand, "What I don't know is why you came all the way here to tell me. No offense, but we're not really friends, and people don't usually turn to their ex's kid brother when they get dumped."

She sniffs, adjusting the large jacket Derek had given her (before retreating to the kitchen, the coward) and eyes me critically.

"Because, your brother was freaking out. I know you guys weren't close or anything, but something's really off with him. He seemed freaked out, but when I asked him what was going on, he blew up at me!" her gaze softens a bit, "Janus is a grade A asshole and a creep, but I don't think he should be alone. And you're the only family he has, like it or not."

I take my hands away from my face to study her. I wasn't kidding; Harley and I aren't friends. Janus has been friends with her for a long time, and they've dated on and off all through my middle and high school years, but I've never really had a real conversation with her. I'd always thought of her as sort of a shallow person, but right now there's genuine worry in her eyes.

I take a deep breath, already resigning myself to losing the rest of tonight's sleep, and gesture to the sofa. "You can crash here tonight. I'll call Janus. Don't listen in. Ask Derek if you need anything, alright?"

She purses her lips at my rudeness, but I honestly couldn't care less. Once more, I find myself having to clean up Janus's messes. But I can't deny that Harley's words have sparked a bit of worry in me. She's right, that I'm all he's got. And if the police find out that he had anything to do with Dad's death (because I know he must've), he's toast. I don't know how my brother's managed to stay out of prison this long, with all the shit he's pulled.

Oh, that's right, I think sarcastically to myself as I step outside and shut the door behind me, it's because of me, cleaning up after him all the time.

The rain patters noisily on to the overhang above me, and I hunch my shoulders protectively against the biting chill, wishing I had thought to bring a jacket or something. I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the one labelled, 'Psycho'.

"Are you okay?" is the first thing my brother asks, voice terse and harsh. I'm struck speechless for a second, still in awe that he answered before the first ring was even done. Janus never checks his phone.

"Are you okay?" I fire back after a second of listening to his rapid breathing, "Why is Harley over here, whining about how you're freaking her out?" I hear Janus let out a heaving sigh, causing static to assault my ears.

"I'm fine. Tell her一 tell her I hate her and that she's a bitch. And that she shouldn't ever try to talk to me again, or I'll rip her head off. You should leave me alone too, if you know what's good for you. I've already taken care of one family member. I can do it again."

Now I'm very worried. Janus is obviously scared out of his wits, and I've never heard of anything or anyone that can scare my brother this much. This is the first time he's actually admitted that he had anything to do with Dad, also. Just what is going on with him? Is someone after him? I shouldn't care. He really is a lunatic.

"What's happening, man? Just talk to me. Why are you trying to push away all the people in your life? Well, two out of the three, anyway. Do you need money? Because I can一"

"You'll do nothing," he practically growls, and of course I won't, why did I even offer? "Stay where you are, and tell Harley to stay away, too. Rico一 Rico's dead, and I'm next, if I don't figure this shit out.

"Which I will, but they don't know about the two of you, so until I'm safe, you need to get out of my life. I mean it. No more questions," he adds as I start to stammer something out, "Just go the fuck to sleep and trust me to handle this alone." With that, he hangs up.

I don't trust Janus. He's betrayed me countless times. But I find myself heading back inside and ignoring the imploring gaze emanating from the sofa. In the morning, I'll tell Harley to leave Janus alone, that he's going through a bad withdrawal and it'd be best to let him deal with it without interfering. In the morning, I'll grieve for Rico, who's been Janus's friend for as long as I can remember.

In the morning, I'll delete the contact labelled 'Psycho' in my phone, until the day that it's namesake decides it's safe to reopen communication. I don't trust my brother. But I will leave him to do whatever he's doing, and I will be there to clean up after him when it's all over.

26

My brother Janus is a murderer.

I've hardly got the door closed behind me before I start laughing. It bubbles up from somewhere deep inside of me, and I'm helpless to stop it.

"Something funny?" questions Janus, perched on top of the armrest of my couch.

"Nah," I say as my laughter dies down, "You wouldn't get it." This, of course, only serves to pique his interest even further, and he nearly topples off of his seat trying to lean closer to me.

"No, you gotta tell me!" Janus whines, looking for all the world like a toddler denied his favorite toy. Unbelievable. Thirty-three years old, and acting more childish than when he was twelve. Very murderous, indeed. "Dude, what? Did one of them have snot hanging out of his nose, or something? What was it?"

He lunges off of the armrest and wraps his wiry limbs around me from behind like a monkey, trapping my arms at my sides. In response, I let my body turn to dead weight and fall forwards. Thankfully, Janus springs away and catches us before I can faceplant on to the hardwood floor and break my nose, something I half-expected to him to let happen.

"Alright, alright," I say, shoving his arms off of me as we get up, "It's just一 ironic, is all. They told me you were a murderer. That they were just trying to keep everyone safe. But the only person you've ever murdered was Dad. And you did it to keep us safe. Everything you've done, you did to keep us safe. Well, not everything."

Janus's smile goes a little crooked. "So you knew about all that, huh?" he says, his tone a little self-depreciative, "And here I thought I was being sneaky all this time, tiring Dad out and sneaking you money all the time."

I sock him in the shoulder, scowling playfully. "Dude, I didn't want your fucking drug money. Why couldn't you have just gotten a real job?"

"No one wants to hire the kid with the dead dad and the crazy eyes," my brother wisely informs me, "And I knew you wouldn't accept the drug money, even if it had been cleaned. That's why I made you think you stole it from me. I didn't expect you to arrest me, though I guess I shouldn't have been surprised."

I look at my older brother, a tangle of bony limbs draped over my couch. He stares back with a rueful smile. Janus opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it.

"I hate you," I tell him seriously, and I'm not lying. Janus has made my life a living hell, and for all he's helped me out, he's also done a hell of a lot to hurt me.

"Aw, you know you love me," Janus replies, sporting a cheeky grin.

And the weird thing is that somehow, that one isn't a lie either.