Letter from Brother

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Dumitru,

I’ve heard the news about your… promotion. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise anyone. You always did have a taste for blood, didn’t you?

Like with the hens… I still remember how you’d corner them for sport, slit them open, and just watch as the life drained out of them. I regret lying to Ma – telling her it was foxes. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if she’d known the truth.

Folk say you don’t speak anymore, just grin through the gore. They say you drink what spills out.

Is it true, Dumitru? Have you fallen that far? Part of me hopes not. But I know you too well.

May God have mercy on you, brother.

Davin