Julius Caesar

Augustus shifted under my scrutinizing gaze as I awaited an answer. "Yes," he whispered. "Julius."

Why had he come to his mind and why had it affected him so much was beyond my comprehension. So I naturally inquired. "Why? I'm confused."

"Why?" He studied me in disbelief. He then straightened his back, cleared his throat, and pursed his lips. "I want to -uh- know-" He looked down, shrugged a shoulder, and lifted his brows. "Hell, I need to know." He then lifted his head and quickly licked his lower lip, his eyes surveying the whole room before landing on me.

Anyone could see right through his act of nonchalance. He was unnerved, jumpy, and sleep-deprived. He sucked at acting. "I'm still thoroughly confused."

Augustus exhaled loudly in response and ran both his hands in his hair, grabbing a bunch in each hand before dropping his arms by his sides. "Why is everything so difficult with you?" His voice was strangled yet sharp and I couldn't help but frown at the anger that impregnated it. Perhaps, all that anger was harboured within him for too long and that it was high time it made an appearance.

"August-"

"Goddammit!" He yelled, completely losing his composure. "Goddammit! Is this even normal?!" He bellowed, waving his arms toward me haphazardly. "Is it normal to ask you if you have killed every damn person I care about?!" was what he screamed in my face. "Is it normal to experience heart-bloody-break from your own father?! The person you thought cared about you the most?"

And I thought that God, yes, this was it. Another heart attack. Another one ripping and tearing my heart into snippets. Here was it in the form called Augustus.

"Son, no, listen-" I started weakly, my heart thrumming dangerously in my chest. And I thought that, yes, I needed Colin, my nurse, here ASAP. I needed him because I thought this would end me.

"I -no-" He shook his head and grimaced. "No, Dad, I don't want to ′listen'," he told me vehemently, his voice taut. "I want to know. Okay? I want to know where's Julius. I want to see him. Okay? I need to see him, Dad. And I want to know if you killed him-" he vomited out the words. "Because if so, please do me a favour and kill me too. Because I'm done, Dad. I'm so done."

I was floored to speechlessness as I stared at him with ashes for a heart. Flames. His words. His words were flames that devoured it. "Augustus, please, boy-"

"Can't you see?!" His face reddened and contorted as his eyes welled up with tears. "Can't you see that I'm done with your performances? Why can't you relieve me, Dad? Why?"

"Son, please," I placed a hand on my chest. "Sit down. Let us talk." I was finding it hard to utter these words, to look into his accusing eyes, to breathe normally as he balled his hands into fists by his sides.

"Augustus!" I then bellowed firmly, helplessly, shutting him up as his blue irises swam in their ocean of tears.

"You killed him, didn't you?" He sniffled as his face reddened with immense grief. I didn't think I'd ever see him that sad. "You killed Julius, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about, son? Why are you saying this?" I was blabbering anything irrelevant on my mind to distract me from the actual truth. The truth. The connection. My son's love for something I yanked emotion out of. My son was wasting his love on a lost cause of a 'brother'.

And then something clicked in me.

"You hate him!" He continued yelling. "So you killed him." He then muttered softly, his tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Why does it matter to you?" I clenched my jaws and decided that I couldn't watch my son fall into this. I wouldn't allow him to care for an apathetic creature I brought up.

He looked taken aback by my words. "I thought you'd already figured it out. Or need I state what must've been obvious?" He paused to watch my expressionless face. "I care about him, okay? I love him, Dad. And we are not enemies. Okay? And we shall never be as long as this Earth would bear my beating heart."

"I thought," I was breathing hard. "I thought I made it clear that he shouldn't be dealt with. That you should have nothing to do with him." I was more angry than sad. In fact, I was disgusted by Augustus' unwise decisions, always influenced by his damn heart. So I was glaring at him. I was glaring at him, waiting for a 'viable' explanation.

Because even when Simon would report seeing Augustus with Julius, I'd ignore. I had faith in Augustus. I believed his loyalty lied with me. That he'd always listen to me. That he would be there, with him, to perhaps check if everything matched my preferences.

I hadn't thought they were bonding together. This mere thought brought a grimace over my lips.

"I do not need your permission for my actions!" He lashed out. "And I am not here to listen to your opinions about them either. I just want to know if you killed him, dammit!" He then stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

Probably not to disturb the house staff.

"You are an amateur! Of course, you need my permission!" I pressed, getting to my feet and facing him, with a fair distance between us.

He puffed out a breath and brought a fist to his mouth. "Dad-" he swallowed hard. "I haven't been sleeping because of the nightmares I have where you point a gun to his head. I haven't been living because all I do now is look for him-" His voice was shaky and I had to stop myself from throwing up from the mixture of emotions I felt.

Besides my disappointment at his utter recklessness, there was this unsettling feeling lurking around in the shadows of my heart. Because it hit me that he was defying me and raising his voice to defend his ′brother'. Which only translated to him loving his brother so much more than I could've ever imagined. So much more than his love for me.

"He has been missing for three days!" He almost pulled his hair out, talking through his teeth. "And I am scared-" he whimpered. "-because I can't help him. I can't call the damned cops because it then hit me-" He sucked in his lower lip and frowned deeply. "It hit me that you could be the one behind this. And I wouldn't want to lose you behind bars-" Tears stained his shirt.

"But it would get very tempting. So here I am-" He sniffed loudly. "Here I am, asking if it were you. Because I will call the police. Because I'd rather not be the one to find his rotting corpse when I'm looking for him. I'd. Rather. Not even imagine-" He raised his brows as if imagining the horror of such an occurrence and I immediately knew that I couldn't talk him out of this no matter what. The depth and immensity of his care were out of my league.

So I shut my eyes wearily and nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "I have a condition."

Augustus' pulsing blues widened at my response as he stopped sniffling to study me. After a few beats of silence, he spoke. "A condition? For what?"

"For telling you about what happened to him." I deliberately gave him a vague answer to drag him relentlessly into my plan B.

He remained quiet for five heartbeats, unblinking as he thought it through. "Right. Of course," he breathed out with a distant look in his eyes.

I looked down and smirked knowingly. "If he's dead, you shall not know anything about how or where or any of those details. You will not even-" I stopped to glance at his anticipating face. "You will not be informed about his cremation. After all, he was meant to be a stranger to you."

I then averted my gaze to him as he gulped, a lone tear tumbling down his fluttering eyes. "Okay," was his broken response.

I continued, looking back down. "If he is alive, you will not attempt to find, contact or ever talk to him again for all that matters. Because if that happens, I assure you he will die-" I looked up to stare at his surprisingly vacant facial expression. "So?" I tilted my head and lifted a brow. "Do you want me to 'relieve' you?"

I thought it was a fairly good bargain. I even thought about lying to him and telling him that Julius died, but there was a chance they'd come intact in the future. And then I'd totally lose my son's trust.

His left eye twitched, his face paling. "Okay."

I pressed a tight, unpleasant smile. "Are you sure? I am a man of my word."

"I am a man of my word too," came his offhand response.

"Of course you are," I said. "You are my son."

"Sure," he said emotionlessly. "Tell me now."

I studied him more with narrowed eyes before sighing loudly. "He's alive."

Augustus' eyes widened and his lips parted. He then blinked twice before releasing the tension from his shoulders and exhaling loudly. And just like that, a smile lit up his face. "He's alive. I knew it!"

I tried not to roll my eyes.

"I will kill him-" I started, drawing Augustus' attention back to me. "I will kill him if you ever try looking for him, Augustus. I swear on your mother's soul." I made sure I sounded dead serious as I watched his smile falter a bit. I even brought his mother in this to make it sound more authentic. "From now on, you know no Julius."

He stared at me unblinking as I tried to understand the way he looked at me. I wanted to jump right in his thoughts and memories and handpick those that should stay and those that shouldn't. I wanted to protect him from them.

"That's not fair-" he then blurted out and I raised my eyebrows warningly. "He could be alive and on the verge of death. He might be getting tortured as we talk. I need more confirmation. I need to know if he's actually fine. Because I know he wouldn't just turn his back on me like this-" He frowned, subtly shaking his head. "There must be a genuine reason. A genuine, bad reason."

"What makes you think it's bad?"

"Because it's associated with you-" He blurted but decided to stop a bit too late. I chose to ignore. "Because I'm sure he wouldn't just leave me...hanging-" He was saying this like the very thought sounded too ridiculous to him.

So I decided to prove to him the exact opposite.

"Oh, sure he did," I smirked devilishly. "He's currently having the time of his life with his 'lover'."

Augustus furrowed his eyebrows. "Lover? What lover?"

I tsked. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. In the beginning-" I feigned pity. "Because I knew you'd be heartbroken when you know-"

His eyebrows plunged even more as he studied me. "Know what? You're not making sense."

I sighed heavily, looked down, then back up at him with a sympathetic smile. "Julius." I shook my head. "He fled away with his blind girl-" I said smoothly. "That was why I was confused in the beginning-" I shrugged helplessly. "I thought he had told you. I thought he told you not to look for him. I thought you knew."

Samara's POV.

I didn't know where to keep my shaky fingers. I didn't know whether I should curl them into fists or hide them in my pockets.

I didn't know what to do with them and it irritated me so much until the sound of a gunshot startled me back to reality. Reality in which my brother shot a beautiful pheasant dead. It came tumbling down, several metres from the clear, azure sky before landing softly on the grass, a few feet away from us.

I brought my fingers to my mouth and grazed them with my front teeth as Maxime reloaded his shotgun with a dark smile and walked toward the dead bird. He then shot it twice, again, leaving me staring at the blood splattered on the green blades of the glistening grass.

And I, bless me, did nothing but stare despite the overwhelming sickness that evaded my senses. Did nothing but blink back some tears that were triggered by my brother's actions.

Because it seemed so wrong. It seemed wrong that I was trying to escape the miserable clutches that death had imposed through Leo's death, only to see it happen through a pheasant. A dead pheasant saddened my soul and melted my eyes into ridiculous tears. I knew that it was just a sport, but it was no fun for me.

I almost gasped when Maxime's heavy boots stepped on its dead body and squeezed it to mush.

He then walked back and stood next to me, tall and straight, in slim-fitted black pants and a full-sleeved, V-necked, black shirt that exposed a brown-leather necklace. His dark-brown hair was unkempt but kept away from his eyes by some sort of band. And I daren't flinch as I watched him smile genuinely after the hard days he'd had.

He was starting to raise his shotgun again when I thoughtlessly stopped him by touching his arm. "I want to go." I found myself saying.

He lowered his shotgun and turned his head to me quickly. He then stared at me as my eyes scanned everything except for him. The exceptionally bright sun. The tall grass. The gamekeeper watching us from a distance while smoking a cigarette. My faded jeans and plain, grey shirt. I even picked on a loose thread before his voice snapped me back to him.

Why was I acting afraid of him? Why couldn't I look in his metallic eyes? I needed to take a deep breath and stop being stupid. I needed to look in his eyes and see him smile like everything's okay. I needed his smile to prove that I was just overreacting.

So I looked up and watched him smile.

"Why?" He was asking me surprisedly. "Aren't you enjoying your time?" He cocked an eyebrow and I hesitated to answer but he continued. "Leonard loved watching me do this." He tipped his head toward the sky. He then looked down with a sincere smile. "He even asked me to teach him. And I did."

My lips were parted slightly as sentences, no -paragraphs formed in my head before breaking down at the last minute into meaningless, drifting words in my headspace. I realized I had lost the string that held them together to convey something important that, blimey, I couldn't quite remember when I looked in his eerily calm eyes. But it's very important, I thought. I have to find the string, I thought. I needed to fight my fear.

"No," was what I ended up saying with a shaky breath.

"No, what?" He pressed, feigning curiosity and I shook my head subtly as I tried to smile.

I failed.

"I -uh- just feel sick today." And I wasn't completely lying. I did feel sick. What he was doing made me sick. Pressing the stale blood out of triple-shot, dead pheasants. I even thought it should be made illegal for people like my brother to play such a sport.

But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that this was 'okay', I just couldn't. Just about five days of having Leonard die in his arms, he decided to go bird-shooting. I tried to convince myself that this was normal. I tried to convince myself that hearing him cry to sleep at night made sense and complimented his actions.

But his contradictory actions scared me. They made no sense to me. They were ambiguous. Creepy.

I noticed him study me with a heavy gaze. "Maybe, you're just bored," was what he said with a slight shrug. "Do you want to try?"

My heart caught in my throat and I was about to shake my head no-no-no when he shoved the shotgun in my arms. "No, Maxime. I do not."

But he was already roughly tightening my hands around the gun.

"Maxime!" I snapped, no longer capable of handling his obscure actions.

"It's very easy." His voice was unnaturally flat as he stepped closer to me unblinking.

"I do not want to do this!" I frowned, glaring at his hands that forced my hold around the gun.

"But you should try." He tilted his head and tightened his hold around my hands.

"Stop it, Maxime!" My eyes widened as his hold started to hurt me. "You're hurting me!"

"No, I'm not. I'm not hurting you-" He scoffed, looking almost offended. "I'm trying to teach you what Leo-" His voice was so soft but I was so repulsed.

"I am not Leonard!" I blurted, ignoring the raging, grey oceans in his eyes that seemed to still immediately after my statement.

"Of course you're not." His lips were slightly parted as he subtly shook his head.

"Then act like it!" I was beyond weirded out by his actions as he just nodded at me. "And let go of me!"

His eyes dropped to his hands robotically. He let go of my hands and I winced. I chucked the shotgun from my hand furiously to the ground. "I am feeling sick. When you're done," I said, pointing at the sky in disgust. "-mourning our brother, come and find me."

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped at my actions, but he did nothing to stop me from running away from him.

I was standing in front of the same scary window. The one that reminded me of blindness, but this time I could see what was outside. It wasn't dark yet and I silently stared at a lot of dark-green treetops, wondering about so many things. Julius.

Julius. It had been three days since I talked to him. Three days while we awaited some action from his father's side. Three days that proved Julius right. Maybe, his father wasn't coming after all. Then I thought of how angry he'd be that he was doing nothing but staring at empty walls and breathing rusty air.

"I'm sorry." His voice was heavy with sincerity but I didn't turn to him. I didn't want to. "I shouldn't have pushed you like this." He continued with a shaky voice and my lips parted at its intensity. "I can't believe-" He was panting. "I'm so sorry, Sam, please."

The desperation in his voice were arms that pulled my shoulders to face him.

His hands were caught in his hair and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. He then dropped his hands, bringing a cascade of dark hair over his eyes. He looked at me with the saddest eyes ever. I almost winced at the grief they carried as life companions.

"I don't even know what I'm doing. I just had it really hard." His voice thickened with emotion. "You have no idea what we've been through, Sam. You really don't." He was frowning deeply and I sighed softly at his destitute condition.

"I told you I was there for you, Max," I whispered as I looked down at my fumbling fingers. "He wasn't only your brother. He was mine too." I fixed him with my eyes as I noticed the heavy movement of his chest. "You need to remember I've had it hard too. I lost so many things in the process. You know." I watched his throat move as he stared at me in a trance. "I get to lose him after I just saw him after eight years, Max. Hope broke my heart just again."

"I -uh-" He squeezed shut his eyes, cleared his throat, and licked his lips. "Grief. It blurs my judgement sometimes." He opened his glassy, rock-grey eyes. "I'm so sorry. Samara, please."

I sighed heavily and bit my lower lip. "And I'm sorry for getting mad at you."

He shook his head. "No," he breathed. "I don't mind it at all. In fact, you should keep doing that. Your anger was a slap to reality." He nodded at me with a slight pout. "I'm afraid I lose the sense of myself."

And I couldn't hear him complain about his pain any longer. It was all just so miserable and painful. It made me wonder when would we get over Leonard's death. And when would everything return to normal. And how.

"You'll avenge his death." I found myself approaching him. I stopped when we were a few inches apart and stared at his deathly pale face, his shaky hands, and dirty nails.

Maxime sniffed loudly, looked down, and nodded. "We have to, Sammy-" His voice was barely an audible whisper that melted the shield I'd put up around my heart. "We have to-" he repeated, tilted back his head, and cleared his throat. He then captured my eyes. "We have to kill Julius. You have to kill him."

He then dropped his head, taking my lungs with it as I froze.

I stared at his bowed head and messy hair, unblinking as my heart tumbled away from my rib cage's clutches. And I started questioning my hearing and my voice. Why wasn't I screaming at what he was saying? Why wasn't I saying no-no-no-no and I can't-I can't-I can't?

My voice, I realized, loved playing hide-and-seek with me. It was never there when I needed it most.

"I thought we were over this." My voice was brittle. It was delicate glass waiting for a wrong push from my vocal cords to break and shatter and fracture.

He raised his head slowly and looked at me with weary, watery eyes. "I changed my mind." He was impossibly sad saying those dark, dark, bad things. I thought he'd be laughing this villainy, scary laugh that I heard in movies. But no. He was crying. He was associating this darkness with his grief over Leonard. "I will not kill his father."

I tried to smile. I swear I tried because I wanted to show him that I thought he was being ridiculous. But the crashing waves that were caught under his irises, could grey the bluest of oceans. He was being absolutely serious.

"I want you-" he panted. "-to kill him." He paused to check me with his sad, dark eyes. "In front of his father." His throat moved and his voice hardened. "I want his father to suffer. Killing him would just be a gift."

And I thought I was drowning because there was no apparent way out of his black holes for eyes. I couldn't think of something to say. Because I was too busy imagining myself pull the gun's trigger at Julius' head. I imagined the disappointed look he'd have in his -oh lord- beautiful emeralds. I imagined him shaking his head and not fighting me. I imagined him not try stopping me even with his sometimes lethal words. I imagined his virid eyes -oh, such a waste- rolling to the back of his head before he dropped dead.

I curled my shaky fingers into shaky fists. It was terrifying. "Maybe-" I took a deep shaky breath. "Maybe, you should kill him instead."

He raised his eyebrows as a hint of something ominous flitted into and out of his eyes. "Do you want him to have an easy death or a tough one?"

"An easy one," I answered almost instantly and had to bring a hand over my mouth. But Maxime seemed least concerned as he continued with the same flat tone.

"Then you should kill him." He shrugged gently and I gaped at him incredulously.

"That's not easy." The words tumbled out of my mouth as a sharp realization hit me.

I was here. Standing. In front of my brother, discussing how I'll kill a human. I was negotiating. Bargaining. Compromising. I was telling him that him having an easy death was okay with me.

I was not breathing right.

"Well, easier than me." He said, averting his gaze from me and I shook my head.

"Maxime." I finally breathed. "Maybe his father won't come. Julius said so. It has been three days."

Maxime diverted his gaze to me with curiosity and I breathed again. "I thought I'd give him five days." He said thoughtfully. "Do you think it's too much?"

My lips floated around for a while as I tried thinking of words to say. Letters to spell. Because this momentary silence was overwhelming. It made me want to throw up the meagre contents of my stomach in his face.

"I think it's too much too." He finally continued, nodding at nothing in particular. "I think you should ask him-" He diverted his gaze to me, rubbing his chin. "Ask him how to lure his father faster. Ask him about his father's weakness." His eyes lit up at his words and I was already shaking my head.

"No." I breathed and his head snapped to me. "He won't tell me," I added hesitantly as Maxime studied me with a smirk. I then narrowed my eyes at him. "He's not daft."

"Use your charm." He smiled widely. "Like when you kidnap-"

"Absolutely not." I snapped at him instantly and loudly, surprising both of us.

He raised his eyebrows. "Be careful with the tone you're using, sister." His voice was sharp and eyes unwavering as they glued me to place. "Anyone might think you're defending him."

"Defending him?" I scoffed, irritated by his words. "Do you have absolutely no concern about your sister dressing up and pretending to be a slut?" I frowned deeply, holding my hips.

His lips were fighting a smirk as my hands curled into hard fists.

"Seriously?" I shook my head, my voice taut and my chest tight. "You have no problem with this?"

He shrugged a shoulder, cocked a brow, and stared right in my eyes. "Well, correct me if I'm wrong." He licked his lower lip once and scoffed. "You didn't have a problem with it the first time-"

I slapped him. And I loved it. It felt so good to release all the anger that heaved down my body and arms.

I wasn't his doll.

He looked up and breathed through his nose. And, oh, I loved how my hand marked his stupid face.

"You don't get to speak with me in this manner!" I yelled as his eyes captured mine then dropped to the ground. "Leonard is dead! You lost him to terrible people. And you have someone to blame. But I'm alive! You'll lose me to yourself. And you wouldn't have anyone to blame but yourself!" I was shaking uncontrollably. "Try living with that!" I spat out the words and he still wouldn't look at me as he breathed heavily. "Be careful, brother-" I imitated his revolting style. "-I'm not as daft as you hoped I was."

Anger was a rope tied around my neck, pulling and pulling me out of my comfort, peaceful zone into this redness that I failed to ignore this time. I turned to leave but felt his clutch on my wrist. With tremendous force and a grimace, I shook his hand off of me.

"Don't." I glared at his shocked facial expression. "And I'll deal with Julius my way," I spat and left.