Frankie pointed the gun at Andrew but faced his brother dead on. “Respect is the only thing that matters. If people don’t respect you then you’re nothing but their bitch…”
Frankie trailed off slightly and Davie seemed to sense something. “This is all because of what happened in the youth offender’s home, isn’t it? What the hell did they do to you?”
“He got buggered by the bigger boys,” said Andrew, enjoying the sight of Frankie flinch at the comment. The words hit him like the bullet’s he had fired into other people.
Frankie’s face twisted up and he twitched like a madman. “Shut the hell up, man, or I swear I’m going to make your death so slow it will feel like an eternity.”
“He’s right though, isn’t he?” said Davie. “Is that what this is all about? Did someone…hurt you?”
Frankie still held the gun at Andrew, but his arm had begun to shake visibly. “You’re chatting shit, little bro. You don’t know nuffin, so just leave it, okay?”
“I know that this whole situation is fruit loops,” said Davie. “Something happened to you inside that made you lose the plot, big time. Did Andrew have something to do with it?”
“No way,” Andrew said immediately. “I never even met the guy before all this.”
Davie shrugged. “So, what then? What is it about Andrew that made you go all batshit crazy?”
Frankie turned the gun on his little brother. “I actually thought you were here to support me, Davie. Stupid me, huh?”
“Support you? This isn’t a job interview or a football match. I can’t support you murdering people.”
“Then get the fuck out!”
Davie folded his arms and shook his head. “Not going anywhere. You want me to leave you’ll have to shoot me, too.”
Frankie cocked the gun. “Don’t think I won’t. I’m not afraid to kill anyone. Sick fuckers in the nick learned that shit soon enough. I showed ‘em all. Fuckin’ nonces.”
Davie’s ears pricked up. “Who?
Frankie pointed the gun back at Andrew and cocked the hammer. “This fucker! That’s who.”
Davie looked at Andrew and seemed confused. “Andrew abused you?”
“Yeah,” Frankie said, nodding his head adamantly, tears forming in his eyes.
“What the hell are you talking about,” Andrew cried out. “You’re talking complete nonsense. I never met you before.”
“I don’t buy it,” said Davie. “Andrew doesn’t even work at a prison.”
Frankie’s twitch went into overdrive and a nauseated expression took over his face. “Well…not him exactly. It was McMillan.”
Andrew was stunned. “James McMillan? My half-brother?”
Davie looked at Andrew, obviously confused. “What?”
“My half-brother is called McMillan. I haven’t seen him in years – not since I was teenager – but his surname is McMillan. Is that who you’re talking about, Frankie?”
Frankie said nothing, but Davie nodded as if something was making sense. “Let me guess: you two look alike?”
Andrew shrugged. “I guess. We have the same eyes and similar hair, but we’re not twins. Like I said, though, I haven’t seen him in years.”
“You look close enough,” said Frankie, marching towards him and grabbing both sides of his bloodied shirt, yanking him to his feet. “Soon as I seen ya, I thought you was him. Was only when I saw you up close that I realised you weren’t – that the piece of shit must have been your brother or something.”
Andrew shook his head and pleaded. “I haven’t seen him since I was a teenager. He lived with his father while my mum remarried someone else. He was already ten years old when I was born. I barely knew him.”
Frankie slammed Andrew back against the wall. Pain exploded from his knee. “You share that perv’s blood, though, don’t ya? You probably have the same sick shit running through your veins as he did.”
“Did?”