Page 21 of Malevolent Hearts
I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.
—Edgar Allan Poe
It’s been almost two days since my world as I knew it fell apart. The cruel claws of loss tear into my soul, ripping me apart at the seams. Lifeless, motionless, speechless, and everything in between. Ever since Rohan carried my shattered heart from Cadden’s lighthouse, I’ve felt like I’m drowning. Trapped beneath the surface, the waves of loss drag me under, and now I am adrift in the rough waters. Surrounded by grief, I’ve retreated into the dark alley of thoughts spinning around my head instead of allowing myself to lean on the others who are mourning the loss of my brother.
I’ve barely eaten. I haven’t slept. And I’ve refused to speak to anyone since I arrived back in Killybegs, not even my own mother.
Sure, I’m not the only one who’s lost someone—a son, a family member, a boyfriend, a friend. Liam was all those things. But to me, he was far more. Nobody knows the extent of my pain. Liam wasn’t just my brother, he was an extension of my very being, the other half of my existence. Imagining a world without him in it is unbearable. Sure, there’d been times I envied him for being handed the keys to the Devereux line, all because he was the male heir. But beneath that resentment, I never loved him any less.
Now, I walk behind the hearse as it pulls into the car park of our local church and follow my brother on his journey to his final resting place. As the funeral cart pulls to a stop in front of the entrance, I realise Liam had it right all along: the syndicate does nothing but take until there is nothing left to give. He never wanted this for his life, but they took it from him anyway.
Keeping my eyes trained on the coffin, I focus on my breathing as they open the back door. Everyone who loved my brother stands next to me, but I’m so caught up in my own emotions, I don’t register their faces until the undertaker asks for the chosen six to step forward. A hand lands on my back, and I draw my gaze to my left. My eyes connect with Aodhán’s and he offers a tight smile. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I nod, then step forward and take my place at the front of the coffin, parallel to Saoirse. Behind me, Aodhán takes his place facing Rohan, then finally at the rear, my mother and Éanna complete the last two places.
Swallowing the lump in the base of my throat, I glance down at the nameplate and fight against the tears threatening to escape.
Devin Liam Devereux.
I won’t cry; not today. Today we celebrate the life we lost. Tomorrow, I can mourn.
The congregation gathers outside the church, forming two lines on either side of the arched doorways, creating a guard of honour in memory of a soul lost too soon. Two members of the church pull open the double doors, and the undertaker moves to stand at the front of the coffin. “Are you ready?” he asks, his eyes holding a glimmer of sadness for our loss. “On three.”
Once again, I find myself dipping my chin with a swift tip. Looking straight ahead, my eyes land on Saoirse. Mascara stains her cheeks as she wipes the loss from her eyes. Her lips pull into a tight, forced smile as I swallow back my emotions before blowing out a breath.
Exchanging a quick nod of reassurance, we both reach our respective handles when the undertaker calls out, “One.”
My shoulders rise with a breath as I will my legs to stop shaking.
“Two.”
I place my free hand on the undercarriage of the coffin and swallow the knot coiling in my throat.
“Three.”
Together we lift and raise the coffin to the sky before turning our bodies to face forward. We set the wood on our shoulders, adding physical weight of our emotional grief. Closing my eyes, I savour the sun warming my cheeks as I take the first step in what will be the hardest walk of my life. I place one foot in front of the other, then together, we guide my brother through the church doors to the soundtrack of hundreds of fallen tears, cried by the hearts he left behind.
Once we reach the altar, we lower the box onto the coffin stand as some of our classmates and fellow syndicate members place a few of his favourite things atop his coffin—his tattoo gun, his running shoes, a photo of him and Saoirse sitting on the dock when they were younger, watching the sunset in the sky. Finally, I step forward, pulling the last trinket from my pocket before placing it next to his nameplate—a model replica of his electric-blue Ford Mustang.
As the church fills, I take a seat in the first pew next to my mother, ignoring the whispers around us. My leg bounces, and I place my hand palm down on my thigh, trying to stop the shaking. Suddenly, Mam covers my hand with hers, intertwining her fingers with mine. I try not to focus on my father’s noticeable absence, or how Rohan told me he overheard him in the hallway at Saoirse’s syndicate party, implicating his involvement in the explosion. As of right now, Oliver Devereux along with Gabriel King have dropped off the face of the earth. But once I bury my brother, I won’t rest until they pay for every hair on my brother’s head.
Trying to push my father’s existence from my mind, I focus on the reason I am here today—to give my twin the send-off he deserves.
After a few prolonged minutes of the priest droning on about life and death, he finally calls upon me. My mother gives my hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance before I rise to my feet and head to the podium. As I walk towards the altar, I stop at Liam’s coffin. Then, drawing my hand to my lips, I kiss the tips of my fingers before laying them against the oak. “Time to say goodbye, brother.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I release it with a heavy sigh before continuing on my path. I step up to the microphone, and adjust the height, and then, for the first time, look out at the sea of blurry faces filling every pew.
“Hi,” I begin. “I’m not going to bore you with some generic introduction, because if you knew my brother and are here to mourn his loss, then you will already know who I am.” Clearing my throat with a gentle cough, I continue. “For most of my life, whenever someone said my name, my twin’s would follow. ‘Beibhinn and Liam this,’ and ‘Beibhinn and Liam that.’ For the most part, it annoyed the shit out of me, but now, knowing I won’t hear it much, I realise how lucky I was to have a counterpart.”
My eyes scan the church as I swipe my tongue along my lip. “You see, growing up with a twin is a gift many people never get to experience. And what I sometimes considered a burden, I now realise was a blessing. In my eighteen years, I was never truly alone because my brother walked through life beside me. Until now.”
Rounding my lips into an O, I blow out my emotions. “When Liam and I were younger, we shared everything. And for the longest time, he was my best and only friend. The better half of our dynamic duo. Everyone also notes that there is always one wild twin and one good twin, and I guess it’s true that God only takes the best, because Liam was everything good in this twisted world.
“It’s said that a person is either a lover or a fighter. And Devin… God, he hated that name.” A small huff of laughter pushes past my lips. “He was both. Always fighting, but only for what he loved. Right down to his very last breath.”
Taking a second to gather myself, my gaze wanders to the back of the room, and locks on the last person I expected to see. Dual-toned eyes latch on to mine, swimming with something that resembles sadness. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with Cadden or the feelings that rush to the surface at the sight of him. So, instead, I tip my chin to my chest and continue paying homage to my brother.
Swallowing the brick cemented in my throat, I proceed. “I could stand here all day, telling you story after story about how great my brother was, but I won’t. Not because I don’t want to, but because those are the only pieces of him I have left, and I am not ready to share them with anyone. Instead, I will leave off with this poem I wrote.”