One bar brawl later, we were standing inside the chilly jail cell of a small police station in Backwater, Virginia. It was the sort of uncouth place where the officers wore plainclothes, and in the case of the deputy, a drab sack suit that had seen better days. Mortared stone walls surrounded us, and there was nothing else inside the cell except a grate in the hard floor. A damp draft blew through it, wafting rancid air into our faces. The gas lamps from the hallway barely lit the interior.

Piss drunk, my brother Theodore had ripped the curtains from the window of the pub, standing on the table and waving them around like a filthy, striped flag.

“I’m getting married to a beautiful girl!” he had howled like a mad wolf. 

Curtain assault was the final straw for the owner of the pub, who had come over to our rowdy group to pull Theodore off the table. Fists had flown from somewhere. And one thing you didn't do was start throwing blows around my brother. Law enforcement was soon involved, and the rest of the boys scattered like roaches. Now I was stuck in this cell because of an event I didn't even wish to attend.

Theodore was a sight: waistcoat and vest unbuttoned, dark hair askew. His grin was infectious, and I couldn’t help but clap him on the shoulder.

“A stag party to remember,” I murmured, voice hollow in the small space.

He nodded enthusiastically, taking me up in a great hug. I squirmed out of it and dusted myself off and his expression faltered. He looked rather green around the gills, so I helped ease him onto the floor. He was soon breathing deeply, propped up on the wall. I turned and moved towards the wooden door, peering out of the barred window.

“Excuse me, sir,” I called out. “Might I use your telephone?”

No answer. I could see nothing but the wall of the hallway. 

“Hello?” Nothing. 

With a sigh, I turned to check on Theodore. The reek of the grate, of the alcohol on my breath, made my stomach flip. I shivered from the cold of the place, gooseflesh crawling up my arms and neck, fine hairs bristling. I needed to contact our father and have him send a car.

When I turned to the door again, I realized I was being watched. A man stood motionless in the hall. He wore a derby and a policeman’s badge and his smile, set in a round face, showed every tooth. 

“Hello there,” I greeted.

He continued to stare. I cleared my throat.

“Your friend is quite drunk,” the man stated.

“Brother. And I promise I’ll get him home without further ruckus if released.”

His ashen lips snapped close like a shade, to which I was grateful.

“Why are you here, Jonah?” he asked.

I clenched my jaw. He’d rifled through my belongings if he knew my name.

“Because you arrested me?”

The man’s expression pinched into a scowl. He clenched his hands, first the right, then the left. Right. Left.

“Why are you here?” He asked again. 

I gave in. “I’m here from Baltimore for my brother’s wedding.”

“Oh. Decided to drown yourself in a few cups first?” He chuckled, more a series of gasps that sent a plummet of dread through my middle. 

“As is tradition,” I responded.

“You two are close.”

“Indeed.”

“And the bride?”

“Cara? Well, she’s…”

I paused as a memory flickered through my mind of first seeing the girl. Small, copper hair. Skinny. Her hand-me-down dress was baggy on her frame, dirty hem dragging the floor. No jewelry.

A slab of hot, ragged tension dragged my insides.

“She can barely look any of our family in the eyes.” The words came out on a sneer. But saying them made me feel… lighter. It surprised me.

The corner of the man’s lips twitched. 

“Go on,” he cooed. “Tell me everything.”

"Teddy is smitten with the girl. But she is uneducated. And a Baptist! She doesn't deserve my brother, who ground his hands to meal to build his shipping business,” the words gushed as steam from a boiler. “She must have seduced him somehow, the vile witch! Teddy is everything I am not. Charismatic, strong. Whip-smart. How could he… with her?”

Why did it feel so cold? Why was I saying… 

“What will you do, Jonah?”

“There’s nothing to do! The wedding is tomorrow!” My exclamation was a puff of white.

He glided closer. Soundless.

“What would you do, then?” The scent of freshly turned soil on his breath. “If you could?”

My hand moved up to caress an iron bar in the window. Warm. I wrapped my fingers around. 

“End this charade, of course,” I ground out.

Squeezed. White knuckles. A wave of relief doused my anger as I squeezed and squeezed. That wretched girl's face sagged in my mind’s eye, bloodshot eyes swelling from her skull. How dare this trash, this insect...

“Older than soil. Than stone. This place...it attracts an unusual number of flies,” The man’s voice drifted lazily through my reverie. “Can you hear them buzzing? Righteous. Afraid. So easy to hurt…one leg plucked at a time." 

My stomach flipped and icy shivers ran across my skin, head snapping up to see the man standing in the corner of our cell. So close. Confusion thundered through me as he showed teeth again. 

The sharp tang of urine hit my nose. I turned to stare in front of me. Not the door.

Tongue clamped between teeth. Pink drool stained his chin. Eyes bugged and flat. My hands wrapped around his neck. A puddle of liquid creeping along the floor to touch my shoe.

I yanked my hands back, eyes rivetted to the thick red marks of my fingers against my brother’s sallow skin. My lungs hitched and spasmed and I couldn’t draw in air. Then I was screaming, the deputy beating on the door for silence.