Twins

Shane woke up in a chair, bound, but not gagged. He no idea where he was, the only distinguishing features of the room were the floor and walls dull, metallic colour and a single, flickering light bulb attached to the ceiling. With no furniture other than the chair he sat on, this scene could have come from a movie. A film he had no wish to be apart of.

He wanted to scream, even took a breath to do so, but he let it die in his throat. Even if help did come, they wouldn’t aid him for long. He was sure that if his mother knew about him being a twin, others did too. It wasn’t that large of a leap in logic, the discovery of his birth was the only real reason that his adoptive mother would have attacked him, even if she never stated the cause of her sporadic violence.

He struggled against his bonds, but he knew it was of no use as they bit into his skin, further cutting off his circulation. He felt hysteria rise up within him but he fought it as he heard the door to the room swing open.

His mother slid in, closing the door tightly behind her, revealing nothing of the outside world. She held a large tray in front of her, covered by a black, linen cloth that he recognized from their cupboard, he feared the objects that lay beneath it, whether they were just as familiar, or not.

“I hoped we’d be able to settle this peacefully, but this is just a precaution,” she said as she set the tray down next to him.

“You know I don’t want to do this, right?” she asked with a slight treble of worry entering her words.

“I know,” he responded slowly, “But you can still let me go, it’s not too late yet…”

He let the words hang there, knowing it was far, far, too late. She had made her choice when she called him home from work, setting an ambush to greet him. He understood her decision, but that didn’t stop fear and desperation getting the best of him in his helpless position.

She smiled at him sadly, as if she had read his thoughts, “We both know it’s too late Shane Mane. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Something snapped a little inside him as he recognized his old nickname. Hard? She didn’t know hard. He was sitting, here about to get tortured and she was telling him he was being difficult? He loved her, he loved his family, but that didn’t stop him from being filled with hate.

He didn’t hate his mom, or his siblings, or even his life or circumstances. He hated the rules and regulations of the world that had placed them in this situation, right here, right now. The law that dictated him as evil and unnecessary, an aberration just for being alive. Who wrote this rule that guided them with an unseen hand? He wanted to know and he swore to himself that if he escaped, he would find the answer to that question.

“Just get on with it,” he said, suddenly tired.

“Nothing has to happen,” she said quietly, reaching up to touch his face, “All you have to do is tell me where your twin is.”

He jerked his back from her hand, recoiling from the near touch, “What?! That’s what you want from me? Why I’m not dead?” he barked at her, his anger escalating, “Then let’s make this easier on you, I don’t know. I simply don’t. All I do have knowledge of is the fact that I have a twin, nothing else. Taking me to hell and back isn’t going to change that.”

He was crying now, sobbing, somewhere between anger, and hurt; hate, and love. All he wanted was his mom to put her arms around him and tell him it would be okay, to see his siblings and do the same for them. But that wasn’t going to happen, not now, not ever. He was a tool, a way to extort the government and take its money. His mom needed this, they needed this, he didn’t want to go to his grave making this more difficult for them. So he stopped his flow of tears, his one kindness towards his captor.

“Honey, I know how you are about family. It was always one of the most amazing traits about you, but now… Now it can only hurt you,” and with that she swept off the linen from the tray, revealing a wide variety of common household items mixed with some objects he had never seen before. All gleamed with a cold, vicious intensity. He could only wonder what they were used for, and had the distinct feeling he was bound to find out.

“I swear! I don’t know anything! Nothing at all!” he began to plead loudly, panic setting in.
Shane felt the burning sting before his mind caught hold of what had happened, he had been slapped into silence. He looked back over at his mother and saw tears dripping down her face, falling to the ground below. He closed his eyes then, an attempt to avoid emotional torture, if not the oncoming physical pain.

He gasped, eyes flying open in shock as he saw his mother, face expressionless, almost comparable to the look of a surgeon intent on their work. Then he looked down and saw a small, wooden spike ridged beneath his nail. The pain was overwhelming. He didn’t’ even realize he was screaming until he had the thought to close his mouth.

Just when he recovered his ability to think, it began again and the onslaught went on and on, for many hours to come. It was a timeless experience of living hell, moving from one moment to the next, one incredible pain to another. Only one thought rolled around in his mind amidst the bright haze of red that had filled his vision, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

But she didn’t relent, and it didn’t stop, showing the true spirit of motherhood.