Heritage (II | Finale) by Zero

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Liam sits up awake in bed for the seventh night in a row. He places the box with tapes next to him on the bedside and stares up to the bottom of the bed above his. His laptop is next to the tape recorder.

He stretches, tired and rubs the back of his shaved head. He can feel the stubble finally starting to come in.

He listens to his brother’s tapes, he holds a copy of his father’s annotations in his own handwriting and adds his own observations as he goes.

He has mapped out the dates from his father’s timeline and locations for each tape. He has started with the ‘broken’ ones marked with a red X, checking their status.

He makes a copy of the audio files in his laptop. It took him a trip to the computer lab and the assistance of a professor but he has found a way to convert the formats.

He checks the tapes in a software to process audio. None of them are empty. At least visually they all seem to have a constant, regular flow of speech.

So far they’re not broken. Liam writes the date and the title on the tape in the table he has hand drawn and writes that the tapes aren’t broken.

The broken ones are posterior dates… His brother wasn’t in the field anymore. They’re a lot more personal. His father had written down they were to be discarded.

He presses play on another audio.

"July 23rd or July 24th. I don’t know. I shaved my head today. It was midnight".

Liam takes a post-it and makes an annotation of the correct date of this tape. He pauses it.

He sighs and moves on to the next.

"July 25th. I can’t bear to see Rosales today. It’s too much. Just the thought of being near him…".

He pauses. Rosales. The lieutenant.

July 25th. This is the day his brother kills himself. His first thought was Rosales?

Before he can press the play button again, a deafening buzzing noise gets inside his headphones. He takes them off.

He watches one of his roommates holding hair clippers and leaning forward, buzzing his own hair down to a number one.

"I’m trying to listen to something here" he groans, sitting up.
"To what?" his roommate doesn’t turn off the clippers, tufts of hair float softly to the floor.
Liam tries to describe it as neutral as he can "My brother’s tapes from the war".
"Your brother’s tapes from the war?" the boy looks at him with a mix of incredulity and concern "We have a therapist, my dude. You should check it out".
"No, we don’t anymore, Harrison quit" his other roommate, a redhead reading a book calls out from the top of the opposite bunkbed.
"Harrison quit?" his roommate grabs a mirror and shaves the sides of his head closer.
"Harrison didn’t quit, he’s on paternity leave" his third roommate, a dark-skinned boy with tightly buzzed hair answers "There’s someone else replacing him. It’s a young guy. He seems okay".
"I don’t need a therapist. Thanks" Liam tells them "This is something I have to do".
"Oh, a tough guy" the redheaded teenager looks down at him "Let me guess, legacy student? Definitely a military brat, at least".
"Whatever" Liam rolls his eyes, then he asks them "Hey, do you guys know Rosales?".
"We don’t know Rosales, we suffer Rosales" his roommate turns off the hair clippers and inspects his reflection "Hey, Valdez, help me out with the back".
"Does he have an office or something? Where can I find him?" Liam puts away his headphones "I have something to deliver to him…".

He glances at the cardboard box.

He has a plan.




Liam knocks on the door’s office.

He hugs the box with his brother’s tapes tightly against his chest.

He hears the authorization to come in.

"Hey, Rosales" he greets the man.
"That would be ‘sir’ to you, Eisen" the lieutenant tells him "I thought your father had taught you manners".
"He did. I didn’t learn them, though, sir" Liam shrugs.
"How can I help you, cadet?" Rosales sighs.
"I’m just here to deliver these. My father’s gift to the military school" Liam drops the box on top of the desk and stands with his arms behind his back "The tapes from my brother’s combat experience. All sixty of them, sir".

Rosales’s eyes widen for a second, then, his face returns to its usual severity and stoicism.

That’s how Liam knows he is onto something.

"I’ll… direct them to the library and contemporary history department" Rosales tightens his grip around his pen "Thanks for bringing them, cadet".
"What is your contemporary history with my brother?" he steps forward "He says your name a lot in those tapes, Rosales. He speaks of not bearing the idea of seeing you again. So, I want to know, what did you do to my brother?".
"What" Rosales tries to scrutinize Liam’s eyes, to read him.
"I am asking you: What is your history with my brother?" he places his hands on top of the desk "Why he couldn’t bear to see you? Did you torment him? Did you push him to the brink? I want the truth!".
"Torment him!?" Rosales gets on his feet and raises his voice "I loved your brother, Liam! He was the love of my life!".
"What are you saying?" Liam feels his blood run cold.
"I loved him, Liam" Rosales’ voice shakes as he speaks "I knew your brother’s heart inside out and he knew mine. How dare you come to my face and accuse me of tormenting him!?".

Victor. His brother. And Rosales.

It’s impossible. His brother wasn’t… Was his brother into men? How could he never know that?

"Did my father…?" Liam asks, his voice almost a whisper.
"Your father. The colonel" Rosales breathes heavily and hisses "He was the one tormenting your brother since he was a teenager! We studied together in this very school! I saw it, Liam! I lived it with him! Your father and the rest of the men of your damn family! They pressured him until he cracked! You want the truth!? Here is the truth! Your brother was terrified of your father and all the broken, violent, insane men of your family!".
"My family isn’t broken or violent or insane!" his blood boils.
"Are you sure? Have you looked into all the trials for war crimes your dear uncles, your own father have had through their impeccable military career?" Rosales crosses his arms "It goes all the way back to your great grandfather, Liam. Atrocities, one after the other".
"I…" the teenager is speechless.
"Your brother came back broken, Liam. And your family turned their back on him" Rosales clenches his jaw "Listen, I’m getting a headache, just… get out of my sight, cadet".

Liam storms out of the office.

He feels himself shaking, he doesn’t know if it’s anxiety of anger.

He doesn’t want to believe the lieutenant.

He can’t believe his father either.

He can only believe his brother on this.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and clicks on the folder of his brother’s audiologs.

He puts on his earbuds and presses play on the first one.





His father doesn’t embrace him when he comes home for the spring break.

The same way he didn’t embrace his brother when he came back home.

His father eyes him up and down. He sees the scarce inches of hair that have sprouted back since he dropped him in military school. He hopes his father won’t touch him, but Liam knows he will.

"You need another shave, boy"

Liam runs a hand through his short hair and doesn’t say anything in response.

As he sits back on the stool in the living room, he stares at his brother’s last photograph on the bridge again. He identifies the man he is with, it’s unmistakable who he is now: It’s Rosales.

He understands why his brother was the perfect son. He understands that he could only stand a top of that pedestal as long as he didn’t take a single step out of it, because he wouldn’t survive the fall.

He takes a deep breath.

He thinks about all the things that have been running through his head for the last months. His brother’s tapes. The further conversations with Rosales. His own solitary research digging into his family’s history.

"Dad" Liam sits straight as his father prepares the hair clippers "We need to talk".

He knows how dangerous this is.

But he has to do it.

His father’s piercing dark eyes settle on his "Go on".
"I’ve heard Victor’s tapes" he hears the clippers being turned on as soon as he starts speaking, as if his father wanted to silence him.
His father doesn’t react. Liam feels his heart racing as his father presses the clippers up the back of his skull and finishes the first pass.

It’s a zero blade again or a double zero, he can tell now as he feels the teeth biting into his skin.

His father’s pace picks up. He expects a question. An accusation but it doesn’t come.

What follows is a furious shaving of his scalp, a vicious, hard grinding of the blades against his head that makes him wince.

"And I blame you for my brother’s death".

He feels a tuft of hair landing on his shoulder after the sting of the metal in his scalp.

A heavy silence settles between them.

"You blame me!? You were the one who was inside the house when your brother shot himself! You were the one who didn’t run to check on him when the gun went off!" his father grips his face hard and forces him to meet his eyes.
"I didn’t know what it was, dad! I thought Victor was watching something!" he feels the strain in his voice as he remembers it.
"You were playing drums when your brother shot himself!"

Liam braces himself. He summons all of his strength.

He shuts down the tug in his heartstrings, the guilt he feels deep inside himself, gnawing at him.

"I know Victor was gay, dad!" he yells at his father "And how you never forgave him for it!".

The floor underneath his feet moves, as his dad slams him hard against the floor.

The impact sends shocks through his body. He sees the rage in his father’s eyes.

"The one thing I can’t forgive your brother for is killing himself!" his father yells in his face, at top of his lungs, his body pinning his to the floor "And leaving me with the mediocre spare you are! But I will fight hard to make you worthy of carrying the legacy! You hear me!?".
"What f***ing legacy!? You and your f***ing obsession with your heritage! You killed Victor" Liam doesn’t hold back either "You and all the f***ing war criminals and psychopaths that run on this f***ing family!".

His father slams his hand against his forehead, and forces his head back, his occipital bone pinned against the cold floor as he moves the clippers through the front of his head, against his short bangs, the pressure of the blades it’s more brutal than before.

"You’ll learn your place, you’ll learn to respect your family!" his dad yells at him.

He tries to jerk his head away and shuts his eyes.

"Dad, please… You’re hurting me…" Liam flinches under the hardness of the steel on his hairline. He can feel his scalp burning, as if his father was actually cutting his skin with the blades "Please, stop".

He opens his eyes and sees the blind rage in his father’s face.

He prays his muscles retain the training he has learnt in military school in the past few months.

He focuses all of his strength in his shoulders and pushes hard back against his father, it’s a single, powerful shove that breaks him free, but barely.

Liam finds himself on his side against the floor, on top of clumps of shorn dark hair. He jumps back to his feet panting and sees his father getting ready to get back at his feet.

His scalp is on fire.

"Dad, please" he raises both his hands up in the air with his palms facing his dad "I’m begging you. You’re hurting me, you’re scaring me…".

His father glares at him, his breathing labored as well.

He holds his gaze.

"… Dad, please, I know you’re hurting too… I know you’re grieving Victor. I know you loved him. We both loved him and we both miss him" his voice falters and cracks "But you have to let go, you have to make peace with the fact that I am not Victor, dad. I can’t be Victor. I wish I could be, but I’m not. And I’m so sorry".

His father turns off the hair clippers and tears his gaze away from his.

His father places his arm against a wall and then buries his face inside his hand. His face turns crimson, his breaths echo through the living room.

Then, he listens to his father crying.

For the first time in his life.

He walks up slowly towards his father, tentatively. His heart still pounding in his chest. Trembling, he throws himself around his father.

His father responds to his touch and in a matter of minutes, he is holding him close to his chest, he cradles Liam’s head in his hands, caressing the roughly shaved head.

Liam lets his tears fall freely "I’m sorry I blamed you for Victor’s death".
"It’s okay, Liam" his father whispers inside his ear "It isn’t your fault, my boy" he pauses "I’m sorry I hurt you like this. I’m sorry I scared you".

His father takes his face again inside his hands, gently this time, he looks at Liam’s tear-stricken cheeks.

He caresses the uneven stubble over his son’s head.

"Let me fix this, my son" his father says, his voice choking.

Liam nods and wipes the tears off his eyes.

His dad takes him to the bathroom this time. He washes his head on the sink first, he sees the bits of hair going down the drain and lets the water cool the burns from the blades of the clippers.

He sees his reflection in the mirror. It’s not his brother’s face staring back at him anymore.

He and his brother have the same long neck, with the prominent Adam’s apple. He has his father’s intense dark eyes. He knows he has his mother’s smile.

But this face, this reflection is his.

The shaved hair is his too. Cut down to the skin, that he can't hide his face even if he wanted to. His face, his eyes, his features are all on display.

His father turns on the hair clippers again and goes over his head carefully, meticulously this time.

And this time, he trusts his father not to hurt him.

It’s still a long road ahead.

A long dark shadow of a legacy he still is coming to terms with.

Liam knows the truth now and he will keep walking towards its light.

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