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Michael saw the betrayal in his brother’s eyes as his eyes moved from the journal to him, he looked at him for an answer, one that he had in his mind for a while even as he stepped back in fear.
“He was scary,” he began, false cowardice in his voice but very real nervousness. “I was scared, he killed them! I saw him come home after Charlie died, covered in blood, but I was too scared to s-”
The impact hit him hard enough to send him to the floor, Elliott still well above him as he recovered from the left hook. The tile’s welcome wasn't a kind one, he heard his own skull hit the ground with a sickening crack. He didn't even have enough time to process the cold floor before he was yanked up from it.
He picked him up like he was nothing, when did his brother get so strong? When did he get so weak? His back hit the wall harder than his head had hit the floor, all of Elliotts anger and grief were spilling out and pushing him against that wall.
“If you were that scared why were you always behind him?” He was hit against the wall another time, “At his beck and call begging for his attention?” Elliot was yelling now, his face contorting in pure rage. “If you were so scared why did you let Elizabeth die?!”
Michael felt his own anger welling up inside him, bubbling up his throat. His hands went up to his wrists, squeezing as hard as he could. “Fucking classy- Isn't she supposed to be your sister?”
He was pounded against the wall again before being dropped to the floor. His green eyes glaring down at the corpse. “You're just like he is.” His voice filled with disgust.
“It's not my fault I'm his son by blood.” He couldn't help but reply, he didn't care about losing an ally now, everything he could think was just insults at this man who he grew up with.
Elliot kicked him, hard, right below his ribcage. He couldn't help but double over. His hair was pulled, forcing him to pull his head up lest his hair be yanked straight out. He was already dazed before he was kneed in the jaw, he barely even felt the punch to the side of his head all he could really process was that his hair was let go. The room spun and all he could feel was the remaining pain of his multiple blows, his eyes could only see glimpses of the gray room they were in and the tile floor below him.
He couldn't hear his own grunts of pain or groans, all he could hear was the fleeting footsteps of his brother one last time before he lost consciousness.