Faded

[WP] I’m invisible—not literally. It’s just that once I turned 16, no one can retain their memory of my existence for more than a few minutes, including my parents! Now, I’m all alone. Please, someone—anyone—don’t forget me!

*****

"Maybe you're just annoying." Those were the words that damned me. I sat in my prison cell and felt and odd sense of relief wash over me. Suddenly, I was no longer in the dark about my incarceration. The money that had gone missing from my previous employer, it was him. My dead girlfriend, every misfortune that had lead me up to this point, it was him, and all because I hadn't taken him seriously when he'd told me about his peculiar affliction.

I was only eighteen when my brother had burst into my room rambling about how no one remembered him. I laughed. Of course I remembered him, although I certainly never remembered him being this autistic before. In retrospect, I probably should have accorded him a little more attention, but hindsight is 20/20. I had better things to worry about than my spastic little brother's overactive imagination. He was already the pride of the family, a budding author and prodigal talent, while I was never anything more in our parents' eyes than slightly above average. To our parents, above average meant barely passing.

"It's been a while dillhole." I smirked. When he was around, my memories of him were intact, but only for as long as he was around. "Come around to gloat some more? Feel as smug as you want, the second you walk away I'll forget all about it."

This wasn't the first of his visits, nor the thirtieth.

"Aren't you tired of this, Will?" He sneered. "Just apologize and I can free you from all of this. Every record, every conviction, I can erase them all. You just have to admit you were wrong about me and stay with me, PLEASE!" His voice shot from scornful to pleading. "I can't take it, I can't take being forgotten anymore."

My brother was on his knees, tears running down his cheeks, snot smeared across his upper lip. My instinct, for which I cursed myself, was to reach out to him. But as always, I looked around first. And how could I forget that I had been in a state penitentiary for the past decade. That wasn't something my brother could erase, nor could he erase murdering our parents, my wife, and pretty much anyone who got in his way, all because he was able to hide behind his gift of being forgotten.

I laughed until my sides hurt. I laughed until my vision was blurred with tears. I laughed until my little brother finally seized me by the arms and shook. Years of prison life had toughened me, while his ghostly existence clearly had never required for him to exert himself. I laughed even more as he failed to move me, something which clearly infuriated him.

"You know what I can do to you!" He snarled. "I can make you suffering so much worse. You could be on death row, you could be on death row as a child rapist."

I paused. Everything he'd framed me for, he'd done himself.

"Jesus, Richie. I knew you were sick but I always thought it was only you lashing out because you were in pain. I was wrong. You are just broken. People forget you because no one should have to remember filth like you."

"Oh, but you will, Brother. Some of the time. Most of the time you will wonder if you've committed all the crimes they accuse you of. You'll never really know unless I'm around. And I won't be back until they have you ready for the lethal injection. And you know, with the right lawyers, you might spend the next two decades wondering why your DNA will be found on those kids. But I'll keep an eye on you. I want to watch as you start to wonder if you have it in yourself to do what I'm going to do. It's going to be a grand old time dear Brother."

"No, it won't." My voice felt hollow. I'd always wanted to think that this was the brother I'd remembered and loved from the past, simply inflicted with a terrible curse. But I couldn't recognize this monster. No matter what he'd endured, I couldn't imagine my own brother torturing children for his selfish desires. But so be it. I was ready for this.

"I doubt you know this, Richie. But just because I forget you doesn't mean I forget everything else. Sure, I couldn't remember what happened to our parents, or my wife, but every time you came to gloat, it would all rush back. Obvious you knew that, and you enjoyed it. But every time you did, I asked, I begged, I prayed to god or my subconscious, to anything that was there, that I'd remember one thing. And here it is, brother, take a look."

I smiled as I opened my hand. It finally made sense, my compulsion to hold on to this pill for the last five year. The drive to obtain a substance that only circulates in the darkest of crime rings. A substance that by all rights should not exist, but in this moment, it gave me more pleasure that I could imagine.

"This is oblivion, little brother. P-7721 according to the CIA, тишина-4 according to the KGB, and restricted substance (RS) 12 according to the international alchemical accords."

I swallowed the pill casually.

"You'd never kill yourself. You always swore it." My brother said, the panic in his voice apparent.

"Kill myself? And let you think you'd won? Oh no. RS-12 is something special. In fact, it's something so special I can't believe someone like me was able to obtain it. They call it oblivion because that's what it does to your memories. You see, dear brother, in just a couple of moments, I won't remember you at all. It won't matter whether you're around or not. For me, your power will be permeant, because I won't remember anything. Not a single memory. And I'm the last person who really knows you aren't I? The last person who really knows who you are and where you come from. And it's all you're fault. You get to be alone with your hateful self, all alone, all alone, all alone. BROTHER, brother, brother?" And with that, my memories faded into gray. No more memories for me. I hoped I would be happy. And then I stopped even hoping.

*****

THE END