The Last Cigarette

"Is Vince your brother, G?"

"Yes. I can't do it. I can't kill my brother."

Another long pause.

"But you want to. Don't you."

"Help me. Please..."



Clare looked up.

"He begged me, so I helped him. While he was under, I made him forget that Vince was his brother. I made him forget everything. That was the only way I could get him to do what he wanted. He said he would only cause trouble if he got arrested. He told me he wanted to die afterwards.

"I helped him with that too. Darling, he was dangerous."

"But, but he saved me. He came back." Clare's voice was hoarse with emotion.

"Yes, he came back. Maybe out of love. But he was right: He's bad. Bad for you. I put something in his tea to help him relax, and then..."

Clare suddenly stood and grabbed Lee's arms in wretched fury. Lee was impassive.

"Then you told him to kill himself. Where? How?"

On the aqueduct G leant over the parapet and gazed at the roaring afternoon traffic a hundred feet below. He climbed onto it and sat down, legs swinging over the edge. He couldn't quite bring himself to jump.

"I know what I need, a cigarette." But then he heard Lee's voice, from within his head, rebuking him.

"Fuck off. Grant a man a last wish." He lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply, deeper, deeper...