A clock hanging on a wall in the house next door chimed midnight as two Russian brothers, who had been drinking alcohol for the past six hours, poured another vodka. They’d been hiding inside a friend’s house for the past year, mostly getting drunk and avoiding the police for being illegal immigrants. Neither went outside, not even for a second.    

Cain was the eldest by two years, the decision-maker that led to them escaping another war-torn country to flee to the UK. It was him who was the first to give in to the night, the vodka swallowed as he slammed the glass down on the coffee table. He burped, rising from his seat as his brother, Abel watched on.  

Cain staggered as he tried to find a natural balance, swaying from left-to-right like he was on a ship in stormy weather to knock over picture frames laid out on the fireplace. He smiled, burped again and grabbed onto a chair.

“Эй, человек, я - прочь к кровати, я чувствую себя больным,” he said, staggering towards the living room door.

“English, speak in English,” Abel said, laughing.

“I hate this language.” Cain rubbed his eyes. “Why speak it if we’re the only people here?”

“Because we need to learn it just in case.”

Cain yawned. “Hey, man, I’m off to bed. I feel sick.”

“See, it wasn’t hard to say,” Abel said smiling, rushing down more vodka before adding, “You go. I’ll be up soon.”

“Yeah. You do that.”

Abel poured another glass, laughing even harder as Cain stumbled.

“What you laughing at?” Cain asked.

“I don’t know? Maybe I’ve drunk too much. Everything is spinning, and you look funny.”

Cain laughed back as the words jumbled inside his head to become the greatest joke in the world.

His legs gave way to leave him falling face-first onto the carpet, his finger rubbing his lip to reveal blood.

Abel tried to help but regrettably was useless, as his attempt to get up caused him to pant like someone who’d just run a marathon. He sighed, sipping more vodka as Cain held his head.

“Hey, are you okay down there?” Abel asked, sighing again.

Cain rubbed his lip a second time, cringing after feeling a lump.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve always wanted fat lips.” He slowly got back to his feet, slobbering and burping some more upon wobbling towards the door. “I’m off to bed.”

“Okay. I’ll catch you up.”

Abel smirked as Cain left the room, raising his glass to applaud him after hearing him fart whilst talking to himself.

“You okay out there?!” Abel shouted.

No reply arrived as Cain reached the stairs. The sound of a cat meowing outside the front door occupying his mind.

“Go home!” he shouted at it.

“I am home,” Abel replied.

“Not you. I was talking to the cat outside,” Cain said, reaching for the hallway light. “We have no bulbs?!” he shouted, flicking the switch on and off.

“Nope…Told you yesterday.”

“Okay.” Cain held his ears after the cat screeched.

I hope it doesn’t make noise all night.

He turned to walk up the stairs but stalled after more screeches drilled into him; his glare towards the front door lasting only seconds before deciding to ignore the cat and go to bed.

The shadow circled the cat, scaring it to retreat against the door; its claws digging into the wood in a frantic attempt to get inside the house before it was attacked. But the bugs smothered it, bringing it down on the doorstep before slipping inside the letterbox to follow the vibration of Cain’s movements as he attempted to climb the stairs.  

The bugs watched Cain through the darkness, waiting for him to attempt the first step; his head pounding as he reached for the bannister. He gripped it until his knuckles turned white, his balance steady upon making it onto step one. But, as he stared awkwardly to the top, knew it was going to be like climbing a mountain to reach it.

He stood on step two, three, and four with ease, but slumped and crashed his knees on step five, letting go of the bannister before banging his head on step nine.

The bugs closely followed as Cain climbed the rest of the stairs, creeping along the wall behind him to hide in the darkness.

He laughed as he reached the top, thinking he was some kind of hero upon staggering to his bedroom, bumping into the door before entering. He kicked it shut and collapsed on his bed, the room spinning to almost make him puke as he stared at shadows on the ceiling perform a puppet show inside his mind; taking a deep breath before closing his eyes.

The shadow crawled up the bed, sliding over Cain’s body before bugs clung to his face like a death mask to itch his skin. He spluttered and scratched his face, but his lips were stung. He tried to scream but his mouth was numb, his body now paralysed from a fluid released by the bugs.

Some crawled inside Cain’s nostrils, biting the bone until it cracked; his cheeks swelling fast to leave crimson coloured lumps on his face. His insides shuddered from fear of knowing where the bugs were heading, feeling them scurry towards his eyeballs before their razor-sharp teeth burrowed through the back of them. The dark juice escaping out the front to look like tears of blood upon sliding down his face. 

The rest attacked his body, dismembering him with the precision of a surgeon, leaving body-parts resting on the bed like a bloodsoaked jigsaw puzzle.

Abel finished his drink and lifted from his seat, but his legs struggled to maintain a straight line as he staggered towards the door,  reaching it after taking a deep breath to compose himself. He entered the hallway, listening out for Cain upon glancing at the stairs; the sound of something thudding on the floorboards above causing him to trip on the first step.

“Sorry if I woke you, brother,” he said, smiling.

Abel walked the stairs, expecting Cain to shout at him, but all was silent as each step became harder than the last. He reached the landing, falling back against a wall to stare at Cain’s bedroom door.

“Sorry…” he said again, placing a finger on his lips upon hearing something drip.

“Hey! I hope you’re not peeing on the floor!” he shouted, feeling confused as he knocked on the door.

He waited for Cain to shout back but the silence surprised him, so turned the handle and opened the door, glancing at the moon through the open curtains. He froze on the spot after seeing blood drip off the side of the bed, choking from the sight of Cain’s leg, with the boot still attached resting on the floor, knowing that was the reason for the loud thud. 

“Cain!” was all he had time to say before bugs flew at him, sticking to him like he was a human flycatcher.

Abel swiped at them, feeling lost as to why there were so many; his drunken state slowing the process for his mind to convince him he was in trouble. He smiled, thinking it was some kind of a game, but, after glancing at the leg again, his mind quickly changed.

“Hey, Cain. What is going on?!” he screamed, as bugs raced across his face to sting his mouth.

Abel panicked as his face became numb, his hands lashing out to try to stop the bugs from biting him, but he was failing fast. He shook at speed to get rid of them but the pain he now felt made him tired; his legs becoming heavy as he crashed down against the base of the door; his heart pounding as the blood from his wounds excited more bugs to pounce.

One ripped off his right ear lobe, while others avoided his tiring attempts to swat them and attacked his body, injecting him again, and again until he cried.

Abel rose from the floor in a final effort to escape but his body began to stiffen as bugs burrowed inside his skin to leave him hopelessly digging fingernails into his face to try to capture them. But the more he tried, the faster the bugs moved.

He fell like a cut-down tree; his face smashing against a wall before toppling down the stairs, snapping his neck before landing at the bottom.

The rest of the bugs formed into the shadow again, floating like a flying carpet towards him.