You didn't mean to kill him. He caught you in your caravan with his Bible-thumped accusations that you’d walked out on the family and turned your back on humanity. You were happy with your books and your beans and your view of the river. He pushed and you snarled and you drove your knife straight through him. While he died, pinned to the wall, you explained why you couldn’t go back. He understood. You dragged him here to the edge of the river and on the way watched as your caravan shrank to a smudge. Tiny life.
Your brother lies upside down, so that you don’t have to see his face. And what you can’t get out of your head is something he once told you, that the national animal of Scotland is the unicorn.
Your brother lies upside down, so that you don’t have to see his face. And what you can’t get out of your head is something he once told you, that the national animal of Scotland is the unicorn.