with newly cropped dark hair and wide, attentive hazel eyes looked across the table at the other six-year-old, who happened to be his mirror image. Only, the hair was a little messier, the eyes somewhat absent, and the biggest difference noticed by the little boy--the bowl of strawberry ice cream his doppleganger was eagerly lapping down. He felt particularly jealous over that last thing, but still, when the messy-haired boy suddenly looked up and smiled at him, he was inclined to return it.

“It’s real good, Luke,” the boy said. It wasn’t a taunt. Luke, even at his young age, understood this about his brother. But the words certainly did nothing to dull the jealousy.

With knots forming in his small stomach, Luke looked to his right, where his mother stirred her tea. Sensing him, she paused without looking up and a frown creased her brow.

“Mama?” Luke said, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. He was pretty sure that everything he did or said annoyed her. So he tried. He tried not to be a bother.

His mom shifted her gaze towards him, but only for the briefest second. Sometimes, it was as if she was afraid to look at him. And more often than not, when she addressed him, her words were shorter than her glances. “Just, don’t.”

Luke opened his mouth again. “Mom...”

She dropped her head into her hand, obviously irritated with him, but it was the sound of a fist hitting the wooden table that made him silent as he looked across the table, where his father was sitting next to Mark. “Will you just answer him, Dorine?” he asked gruffly. “I’d like some peace around here.”

“Fine,” Dorine snapped. “What is it?”

Luke lowered his eyes, no longer wanting to ask his question. But he could feel his father watching him, and something told him it would be worse if he didn’t. “Can I have ice cream?”

“No,” his dad answered, despite his demand that his mother do it.

“But I did my chores today,” Luke insisted. “And I’ve been good, too... it’s not fair. Mark...”

“You know why Mark gets ice cream and you don’t,” Dorine cut him off, actually seeming proud of her cruel tone. “Mark’s been a good boy, but he needs our special attention. Ain’t that right, Raymond?”

“Of course it is,” Luke’s dad responded, looking in his direction stonily. “And we all know whose fault that is, too--don’t we, Luke? You know, why don’t you go ahead and explain it to us, boy. I think you could use the reminder.”

Luke twisted his hands together beneath the table as his gaze moved over it, this time at his brother. Mark was looking around, seeming confused by the exchange as he the strawberry mustache from his top lip. When Mark looked at him, Luke felt something heavy welling in his chest drop as he said what was expected of him. “It’s my fault.”

***

Jackson covered the bottom portion of his face with his hand, in part to keep his fingers from shaking at his side, and in part to smother the stench. He could hear the crickets somewhere above, making him feel small within the darkness of the hole.

“Luke?” he whispered. He stepped back towards the ladder, looked up to the sky and took a deep breath. Fresh air. Clean air. He couldn’t quite decide what exactly it was about this place that made him feel so... filthy.

But he’d shower later, he swore. Later.

“Luke?” he called again, louder this time. He could hear an edge of panic in his own voice, and realized that it was one he truly felt, but still he moved forward again, faster this time, a hand out in front of him as he headed towards the dim light coming from the ceiling. “Luke, please answer me. I know you’re here.” Jackson didn’t realize that he really believed that until he’d said it out loud, and immediately it made him wonder just how much of Luke he was going to find. “Luke, please, just ans--”

Jackson’s breath hitched as his fingers unexpectedly came up against the back wall, moisture touching his fingers with rough cement. But, any thought he might have had of cockroaches crawling along that same wall seemed to fade away as he grew more disturbed over what he felt at his feet. He knelt slowly, reaching down, and paused when his hands came against a shoe that wasn’t his. Swallowing hard, Jackson slowly slid one hand upward, over a wet sock covering what was undoubtedly someone’s ankle.

Someone who wasn’t moving.

Someone who felt cold.

“Luke? Luke.”

9 days earlier....

The stars always seemed brighter sometime in the middle of the night. Perhaps it was the cool air, the silence--except for the sound of rustling leaves and crickets adding to a peaceful atmosphere; or maybe for Luke Tuan, it was just that during those few hours when no one else was awake, he was actually able to take notice of the things capable of creating childish dreams and fantasies. Just like the stars. He was at peace beneath them, just like he’d been this night before returning home. But as he looked up past the shadows to the glowing night above, he knew that something had gone horribly wrong.

Nothing was working right. His movements felt sluggish, his body like dead weight that somehow managed to move. There was a familiar voice in his head, screaming at him to move, a dull force pushing him forward...

Where was he? It was dark, the world spinning. It took him too long to realize that he was at his home, behind the garage. His mother. She was there. She was the voice. It came to mind that he didn’t like her or her screaming, and in a desperate attempt to make the nightmare go away he raised up his arms and shoved... catching only air before she grabbed his wrists, spun him around, and forced him forward again.

Why was he so slow? Luke wished that someone would tell him as his body gave out and he collapsed to his knees in front of a dark shadow. She didn’t yell at him for that. Good. He needed a rest, a moment or two to collect his thoughts. “What’s happening?” he asked. The words made sense to him, but something was wrong with his tongue. The words weren’t right, nothing more than a strange slur.

Blinking rapidly, he stared straight ahead. His mother was up to something. He could see her moving around the shadow, looking frantic... uncovering it. The car. Yes, the car. He understood a little better now. The old Volvo she used to get to work on the days she couldn’t do it from home. Ran like crap. So mostly it just remained covered behind the garage. Maybe given the chance, Luke would have wondered why she was playing with it this late at night, but in the next moments, he was resisting her attempts to get him in the back seat of the car.  It shouldn’t have been so hard, he thought numbly. He was bigger than her, end of subject. All he had to do was lie down and let her wear herself out trying to lift him up. And he did. But she didn’t play fair.

Grunting at the sharp kick to his ribs, Luke rolled over in a hopeless attempt to shield himself. What was wrong with him?

More screaming. He hated the screaming. He wanted it to stop so he could close his eyes. Peace. He wanted peace. But instead, someone found it fitting to give him more pain. More? Yes, more. Something wasn’t quite right, besides the way he felt like lead. There was pain, too.  It was suspicious that he hadn’t noticed it before. He noticed it now, right along with the new pain. Horrible pain. His ear. She was doing something to his ear. Tearing it off? No. Not even she would be that vicious. Would she? Not liking the answer he came up with, Luke opted not to think about it as he turned what little attention he had to defending himself, lifting an arm, using every bit of his meager strength to lash out until he was certain that he’d hit at least some part of her with a painful amount of force. That was better, he decided when he was certain that she’d stopped. But, in the few seconds it took for the pain to fade away. Luke had reached to touch his abused ear, finding it wet and sticky. Frowning, he brought his fingers just in front of his eyes and squinted at the blurry image of them, shadowed by night.

Blood. Luke was certain of it. Well, on him! Maybe the had torn off his ear... but there was more. Twisting his arm, he tried to recall when he’d managed to injure himself with the long scrapes that became more visible the longer he looked, or how he’d managed the rip in the knee of his jeans, which weren’t all that old. He didn’t have as much time as he would have liked to figure it out. The sharp pain in his ribs following his mother’s meager--but effective--blows to his ribs with what had to be her foot, brought his attention right back to her demanding voice, which was becoming clearer now--and not fortunately, as far as Luke was concerned.

“Up!” she shouted. “Up! Get up now!”

He knew what she was saying, but he didn’t understand. Why the would he get up? It hurt to sit. Standing was out of the question. But then she was pointing at the open car door, yelling some more... and then his ear! What the hell did she think she was doing to his ear? If Luke had been able to reach , there was no doubting that he’d have his hands wrapped around it as he strangled the life from her. And maybe that’s what he actually thought to do when he did force himself up, but somewhere in the middle of all of it, attempting to reach for her, he’d forgotten. It seemed ridiculous a moment later when he remembered what his intentions had been--but he’d actually forgotten, and by then, he was in the back seat of the Volvo and she was closing the door, and he...

Luke took in a deep breath as his head fell back against the seat. He winced. That hurt. What was wrong with him? He would have wondered what was wrong with his mother, too, as she moved into the driver’s seat and the engine grunted to life, but he figured that the list would be too long to figure it all out in one night. So, he tried to focus on the last question that seemed important at the moment. Why on earth did she want him in the car? And where would she actually have the gall to take him in the middle of the night.

It was the middle of the night, wasn’t it?

Where would they be going? His mom never did leave the house in the middle of the night. Maybe...he thought about an infinite amount of maybes. Counting the injuries he knew he had, and the ones he suspected that he had, it was possible that he’d gotten into a more violent than usual confrontation with his father. Maybe his mom had finally taken pity, and she was taking him into town to see a doctor. No. She’d do that for Mark--maybe. If he were dying. But not for Luke... unless she’d somehow mistaken him for Mark--not likely, despite his frightening ability to produce a convincing imitation of his brother. But maybe.

No. That was stupid. Think. Think. Think! Ouch! Luke’s head fell back against the seat again, and again it hurt. He was fairly certain that that injury had come first. He had no idea why, just a gut feeling, and the dull, bruising pain of it bursting through his skull, but he was certain...

Jackson. Not Jackson, but the little Subaru that he’d gone to town in with Jackson not so long ago... it was sitting in front of his house, the door ajar. His head turned as his mother drove right past it, and suddenly, he found clarity. It was horrible. He wondered if this was how Mark felt when he woke up from his spells, but lacked the sympathy for it at the moment, or even a second thought.

Jackson. That was it! Jackson, Jackson, Jackson! He remembered calling Jackson. That hadn’t been an easy decision to make, or rather, it had been a little harder to bring himself to dial the number than he’d thought it would be. He’d been considering calling all day. Ever since Jackson had shown up all riled about the pictures he’d been taking. He’d said just enough to get to Luke... to push him towards the slow decision he’d been coming to about which family secrets shouldn’t remain a secret anymore.

But he hadn’t called. Not right away, at least. What he had done, was go for a very long walk to think about things. He’d known from the start that he’d catch hell from his parents if he didn’t make his outing brief, but he really hadn’t cared. They’d gone out with Mark to a favorite fishing spot, and as usual, he hadn’t been invited. He didn’t much care about that, either. It was something he was used to. What bothered him about it, was that he knew that his parents did it to bother him. To hurt him. To punish him. What was worse, was that they knew that they were bothering him, and it ate at Luke that he’d never really gotten past that because he wasn’t supposed to crave their attention, or love for that matter. Not anymore. That was their only power over him and everyone knew it. The way they denied him... everything. But, somehow, somewhere, everything had changed. Luke wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, or how he’d even changed enough to do it from the weak, obedient boy he’d once been, but somewhere over the last years he’d made a decision. He’d done his best to make his parents as miserable as they wanted to make him. And it was wonderful. The scolding, the beatings, the punishments... all of it. Even his father’s twisted mind games no longer mattered because Luke was numb--he’d won. Maybe they’d crushed who he’d once been, but they were no match for who he’d become. Who they’d created, he thought ironically. But then, they had to bring his brother into it...and that was part of the reason why he’d finally called Jackson. Well, that and what had been waiting for him once he’d finally gotten home, somewhere past two in the morning.

He remembered now. It shouldn’t have turned as ugly as it had gotten. His father was gone, likely out with one of the s who saw... well, Luke wasn’t sure what they saw in the man. It was all very disgusting to him, but beside the point. Raymond Tuan hadn’t been there, and therefore, he wouldn’t have to put up with the interrogation over where he’d been until morning. Or so he’d thought.

He hadn’t bothered being too quiet sneaking in through the window of the bedroom he shared with Mark. On the nights that Luke was gone for one reason or another, his brother always made sure that it was unlocked before he went to sleep, and with his father out of the house, he expected no resistance. But then again, he hadn’t expected Dorine Tuan.

Luke knew that his mother often checked on Mark, even after she’d gone to bed. He remembered lying awake in bed at night when he was young, watching her pull the covers up over Mark’s sleeping body so he wouldn’t catch a chill, and the way she’d kiss his forehead at the same time she’d ruffle his hair. And then Luke would wait. He’d wait for her to turn around, and come to his bed. He’d wait for her to make certain that he hadn’t slipped off somewhere in the night, because he’d been pretty sure that that’s what mothers were supposed to do. But she never did, and as he grew older, Luke made a point to slip away into the night as often as possible. Most of the time--when his father wasn’t waiting to torment him--he never had any trouble slipping back in, either. He’d certainly never found any trouble when it came to his mother. Even if she’d caught him, and she had a few times, she’d leave it be if her husband wasn’t there to take care of any disciplinary action. Never had she been stupid enough to attempt tangling with Luke on her own. Until tonight.

It had happened fast. In fact, it was so fast that it was all a blur to Luke, and not just because of his current state. The only way he’d be able to explain it would be that his mother had quite obviously lost her mind. Not even halfway through the window, and she was all over him: her nails, her hands, her voice chirping in his ear about how he was disturbing Mark. How everything was his fault. How he made her miserable. But none of it really bothered him. Only made him think some more as he shook her off. Made him think about calling Jackson. How miserable she’d be then, if...

And then she’d slapped him. It was openhanded, right across his face. He’d hardly noticed the sting it had been so brief, but it was enough because suddenly he’d reached a boiling point of sorts, and while it wasn’t the first time, and hardly worth mentioning if someone had asked him, Luke Tuan snapped. In the instant it had taken him to blink he’d drawn back his fist, and then he’d hit her, knocked her clear to the floor crying out in agony. And he smiled. Only because this was the part where his father usually intervened and made him pay for his violence. It wasn’t often that he got to watch, and for a moment it was... nice. Yes, nice to see her on the ground in obvious agony. He wanted to do more. Make her hurt more.  He’d taken a step forward, ready to do his worst, ready to lash out in every single way he felt she’d provoked him to. And if Mark hadn’t been awakened by the disturbance they’d created, he would have. Luke found it unfortunate that his brother’s interruption had managed to draw his anger in an unlikely direction instead. He’d never done physical harm to his brother before. Not intentionally. But then again, Mark had never attacked him before.

“Luke! Stop that! Stop it, Luke!” Mark screeched, jumping on his brother’s back in a way that reminded Luke that they were equally matched when it came down to sheer size. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Damn it, Mark!” Luke snapped. He was quite simply, outraged. He knew that his brother had difficulty when it came to going against their parents, but Mark sure as hell wasn’t supposed to go against him. And if he was going to go against him...

“What the is the matter with you?” Luke demanded, rounding on his brother to grip the neck of his nightshirt, the fear crossing Mark’s face not registering in his fury. “Idiot!” Luke shouted, and before he could think about it, or even think to stop himself, the back of his hand had made contact with Mark’s face, the force snapping through the room before he shoved Mark away hard enough to cause him to trip backwards. And Luke watched. He watched his brother’s arms flail as he tried and failed to catch his balance, and he watched his head snap forward as the back of it hit the windowsill before Mark ultimately ended up on the ground, looking no less than shocked as he clutched his injuries. It had only taken moments for it all to happen, and even less time for Luke to regret it. Because that was one thing he didn’t do. He did not hurt Mark. Not like that. Not when he’d spent a lifetime learning that hurting his brother was the very reason his existence had become something akin to torture. “Mark, I’m...”

Luke barely had a foot forward before his mother was grabbing his arm, forcing him around. “You stay away from him!” she screamed. “Stay away! I won’t let you...”

“Shut up!” Luke shouted, effectively reminding her that she was in no position to control him, because she immediately removed her hand. But he found that it wasn’t enough. Not even close. He began to advance, forcing her out of their bedroom. “You stay away! Stay away from both of us! Why do you do it? Why do you act like I’m the one who hurts him when... when you know! You know it’s you!”

“Luke, your father could be home at any minute!” Dorine Tuan said urgently, still backpedaling down the hall. “Please, Luke, please; we don’t want to cause trouble now, do we?”

Luke took one more aggressive step towards his mother, forcing her to step backwards into her own bedroom. And then he smiled humorlessly; amused without finding anything funny whatsoever. “Actually, Mama,” he said quietly, “I think we do.”

And he did, just as soon as he’d slammed the bedroom door in his mother’s face. When he walked to the phone to call Jackson, he’d felt unstoppable. It was strange really. He knew what he was doing, but at the same time, he wasn’t thinking about it. If he thought about it... he’d have to think about the consequences. Consequences that he knew his parents likely wouldn’t be alone in sharing. But for a few minutes, Luke just didn’t care. Until he’d heard Jackson’s voice. Jackson’s voice made it real. It scared the hell out of him. He was no longer doing this to hurt his parents. He was doing it to help himself, and it was shameful.

Luke didn’t ask for help. Not ever. He was strong enough, he had to be. But there he was, on the phone with someone who didn’t even like him--reaching out for... what? Help. He’d wanted help. He didn’t know what kind of help exactly, but in that moment he knew that he didn’t want to wake up for the rest of his life knowing...he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life being. Not what he was. Because he wasn’t anything at all. Just the bad one. Nothing more. They’d made sure of that.

Luke had tried to tell Jackson. Tried to reach out. He’d never done that before, so there’d been concern that he wasn’t getting his point across... or didn’t get it across at all when he was interrupted by his mother, who’d apparently deemed it necessary to strike him in the head with an excruciatingly heavy object... right before she dragged him out to the garage.

He remembered now. Narrowing his eyes at his mother’s shadow in the rearview mirror, he remembered. She had to have cracked his head. Knocked him out. It explained the way he could feel his entire skull pounding every time she hit a bump in the road, but the rest...

She’d dragged him to the barn, across the gravel. Not alone. He remembered Mark’s voice now, asking her not to take him--but he’d helped. The realization sparked a moment of resentment for Luke towards his brother, but it was quick to fade. Mark was just doing what he was told. He always did what he was told.  But why? Not Mark. Why was his mother doing this? Why was she taking him? Something still didn’t make sense.

“Why do I feel like this?” he asked. His words were slurred, but he recognized that they at least made sense this time. Something about that made him feel... safer. For a whole second before his mother answered.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she said, making a strange, sniffling sound. Crying? Probably. She cried a lot. “I have to make it better, don’t you see? Have’ta fix it all...I’ll make it better. You’ll see.”

Jackson nearly choked on his own bitter laughter. “It’s.. too.. late..” he said sluggishly. “Too late.”

“Not if you go away.”

And suddenly, the hair on the nape of Luke’s neck prickled in alarm as he reached for the door handle, knowing that nothing was more important at the moment than getting out of that car. But as the Volvo took another bump in the road and his head was forced against the cool glass window, all he found the capability to do was hold onto his injuries as the dull agony pulled him deeper into the darkness fogging his mind.

***

“Swallow it!”

Luke Tuan would have done anything for a more sensitive gag reflex. The thick pill his mother had managed to force halfway down his throat was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, and as she pinched his nostrils shut he found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Closing his watering eyes, he reluctantly swallowed.

And instantly regretted it. But it explained so much--the way he was feeling. Slow. Tired. Sluggish. Drugged. It wasn’t the first time. But this time, he knew that he wasn’t going to sleep it off in a dark basement, and that made it all the more terrifying, especially since as his mother grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled him from the car, he knew where they were.

The wind had picked up along the narrow dirt path which they were parked on which was just wide enough to pass for a road. But even with the cool air fanning his face, Luke felt as if he couldn’t breathe. His mother’s small hands clamped around his wrists, pulling him forward, keeping him moving, one foot in front of the other--it was constricting. He tried to pull away from her, but found that he didn’t have the strength as she led him right off the road and into the trees, and when he couldn’t pull away from her, he stopped moving his feet, as if he’d just remembered that he could do that.

Dorine spun around, the shadows cast over her face masking desperation and creating a ghostly appearance that had Luke once again attempting to pull away. “No, we have to keep moving!” she insisted. “Luke, walk! Luke. Luke!”

But, he wasn’t hearing her now. He’d already dropped to his knees, uncooperative as she tried to pull him up. He was unaware of the slap to his face this time, oblivious to his mother’s tears as she went from acting out furiously to trying to reason with him because she knew he had to move before his second dose of sedatives for the evening took effect. If that happened, she wouldn’t have a chance. Maybe if Luke had known what she was thinking he would have laughed at her, and outright laid down. But he couldn’t know, because he was already somewhere else. In the same place... just a different time, where it was light, and the air was warm, thick with humidity. Nearly three years ago, when his brother accidentally found...

Mark Tuan shielded his eyes as he looked up at the tree his brother was perched in, expertly holding a muzzle loader. The sun was behind him, making him seem nothing more than a shadow within the bright lights shining through the leaves, but Mark could make out his posture, which was all business as he took aim at something in front of them. Mark quickly turned his head to see what it was, and frowned when he discovered that Luke’s target happened to be their father, who wasn’t that far ahead of them with his favorite rifle.

“Luke!” Mark started to scold, quickly turning back to his brother, but by the time he met Luke’s eyes, Luke was already out of the tree, lazily leaning on the trunk and smirking at him.

“Relax, Mark. I ain’t gonna shoot him with his back turned... I’d wait ‘till he was lookin’ at me.”

Mark cocked his head, obviously unsure of whether or not his brother was teasing him. But, when Luke smiled, he smiled, even as Luke turned serious a moment later.

“Come on,” Luke insisted. “We can’t fall too far behind or he’s gonna get mad.”

At this, Mark sighed. “Can we go home now, Luke? I don’t want to shoot anything. I don’t like it, Luke.”

“Well, people gotta do stuff they don’t like all the time, Mark, now come on.”

Luke turned away, lifting his feet high as he trudged through the high, damp grass at his feet to catch up with his father. But he’d made it less than ten feet before he stopped, and let out a breath. Mark wasn’t following. Luke didn’t have to turn around to know that. He could feel the distance of each step he’d taken between them. It had always been like that for him. Strange, perhaps, but he always knew when it was Mark walking down a hallway towards him instead of his parents, and sometimes, when they weren’t even in the same room; he didn’t have to get up and look to know which one Mark was in. Neither of them had ever really had much fun playing hide-and-seek for this very reason.

“Mark,” Luke said quietly. “You don’t have to look. I’ll tell you when to close your eyes.”

“I don’t want to close my eyes, Luke,” Mark insisted. “I want to go home.” Luke turned slowly, and Mark could see the muscles in his brother’s jaw flex as he clenched his teeth. It was always a sure sign that Luke was becoming irritated, but Mark persisted, anyway. “Closing my eyes doesn’t work, Luke. It just makes it dark, and I can still hear it. I don’t like it, Luke.”

Luke closed his eyes, as if it would hide what he was feeling from his brother. Frustration. Exhaustion. But mostly, trepidation. He felt guilty for it, too. He knew that if Mark told their dad he wanted to go home, it wouldn’t be a problem. Mark knew his way back to the house, and their dad would tell him they’d be home in time for dinner... Mark would leave. He wouldn’t have to see anything that he didn’t like. Simple. Except, when he left, Luke knew...

“Mark, he’s been drinkin’,” Luke said. “I promise I won’t let you see nothing you don’t like, let’s just...”

“Hurry up, boys! Your mom’s looking forward to fresh meat tonight!” Raymond Tuan suddenly shouted, and Luke raised questioning eyebrows towards his brother.

“Please don’t make it harder,” Luke whispered. “Just for a little while longer, Mark... then we’ll go home. I promise.”

Mark sighed. It was obvious that he didn’t understand why he had to be there at all. His dad liked hunting. Luke liked hunting. He didn’t.  But, ultimately he shrugged, and started to move forward. “Only for a little while longer,” he agreed.

Luke allowed himself a small sigh; a moment of relief. Back then, he liked to think that he would protect his brother when he could, but it was moments like these that reminded him that in a way, Mark protected him, too. Just by being there.

“Good. Come on... maybe later you can help me take some pictures.”

Mark smiled at that. “Can we go in the boat?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said honestly, looking back at their father again, who was beginning to look impatient. “We’ll try. Come on.”

Luke turned, satisfied that Mark was following him again. But he’d only taken a few steps before he heard his brother make a strange sound beside him--a surprised burst of air rushing from his lungs--and the hair at the nape of Luke’s neck prickled as he spun around, and froze to find that Mark wasn’t behind him at all.

“Mark?” he demanded, his eyes darting towards the trees in search of his missing twin as panic rose in his chest. “Mark!”

“Ouch. Luke?” Mark’s voice was muffled, but definitely there.

“Where are you?” Luke asked, moving forward cautiously.

“I’m right here,” Mark said, sounding put out. “I hurt my .”

Feeling relieved, and a little amused, Luke put down his gun and knelt down towards the ground as he proceeded forward, following the direction of his brother’s voice. “Keep talking to me...I can’t see you.”

“I’m down here, Luke. I can’t get up. It’s too high.”

Luke’s head snapped to his left, and he moved towards the thick trunk of a tree where a hole in the ground was barely visible through the tall grass. Kneeling, he looked down, expecting to see Mark, but... the warm spring air suddenly felt cold against Luke’s skin and a peculiar ache stirred his gut as all he saw was darkness below him. Day turned into night, the sky sparkling with stars that had grown faint in the last half hour, and looking over his shoulder, his father had also vanished.

No. This wasn’t how it had happened three years ago. Now...the place hidden in the woods, not very far from their house was littered with debris, and the plate his father had secured over the opening of the hole his brother had fallen into was open.

For several long moments, Luke stared into the entrance, sorting the past from the present, jumping when he felt a cool hand on the back of his neck.

“I loved you once, you know,” his mother’s voice said quietly, and Luke turned his stiff neck to look over her shadow behind him. “My perfect little boy... both of you were perfect.”

He closed his eyes, unsure if it was her words causing his nausea, or the earlier blow to his head. But, even with the way his tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth, and the weakness he felt every time he used a muscle, he found it in himself to respond. “I hate you....”

Dorine Tuan sighed behind it as her hand on his neck became a little tighter, not enough to hurt, just enough to make him nervous.

“You’ve just made it so hard, Luke...” She paused to laugh to herself, although it was void of all humor. “And to think, you used to be the good one. Everyone noticed, too... around the time you started walking. I remember you were just the sweetest little thing, so...sensitive to others. You never cried, did you know that? And when someone else did, you’d just sit with them... like just being there could make all of their troubles go away. That’s what you were... my perfect little boy.”

Dorine’s fingers moved further up Luke’s neck, sending a cold chill through him as he involuntarily convulsed. “Whatever I am now, you made me,” he whispered, dropping his hands to the ground in an effort to keep himself up. He felt like the world around him was spinning, like balance never existed. Heavy. He felt heavy.

“But you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Dorine continued, as if she’d never heard him at all. “After what you did... after... no little angel could have been capable of hurting his own brother the way that you...”

“Liar!” Luke suddenly cut her off. He closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall forward. He was tired. Ready to stop, but not before he said it. “I know the truth. I remember it. You can’t lie to me anymore, because I know.” He paused, working hard to turn his head and look at his mother, who was suddenly frozen in the dark, her expression barely visible, but readable. It looked like shock, stuck there on her face. “And I’ll tell everyone.”

Dorine gasped as if she’d been slapped, her eyes snapping to her son’s face. It was a strange variety of things that Luke found in her expression then. Shock. Anger...