Ruin

Eight

"They say that it was a girl who let the First Experiment out of the lab.” Maria looks at me and her lips curve into the tiniest of smiles. "She saw him from far off and felt sorry for him, so one day she opened his cage and let him go."

In school, when we learned about the Revolution, we never really went into much detail. Admittedly, I never gave it much thought myself, but the Revolution had to start somewhere. It's an interesting idea that it started with one man who then freed the others once he got out.

Angel smiles at us. “My favorite is the one about the technician who spilled his coffee on the control panel.”

But these stories aren't real. No one seems to know the exact truth, though Angel and Maria go on sharing these strange stories about the First Experiment as if he were a real human. They even laugh as they recount some of the sillier stories, made up purely for entertainment value. Considering how many people lost their lives in the Revolution and how many people continue to die each day, I don't find it easy to laugh even as I become drawn in by all the possibilities the idea of the First Experiment presents.

"But what's the truth?" I ask them. "Is the First Experiment a real person? Wouldn't he have shared his story already?"

Maria pauses with her glass halfway to her mouth. She sets it down on her knee and looks over at Angel and Mitchell with obvious surprise. "She doesn't know?"

Mitchell has that pity look again, but Maria eclipses it by turning back on me. "You don't know? Brandon didn't tell you?"

He still stands off with his back to us, though he seems to give a little twitch as if he heard his name called. I shake my head. "Told me what?"

Maria takes a deep breath and lets it out in a huff. "Mr. Smith is the First Experiment."

I sit up straight as my gut wrenches painfully, differently from the way it reacted when I saw Gray Eyes murder the man today. This is worse. People died-- a lot of people-- as a direct result of the actions of the man who is supposed to be my father. Did my mother know this when she slept with him?

"That's why we don't talk about it. The truth I mean, if we know it at all," Maria says as she shoves her hair behind her ear. "Because it's his past."

That doesn't help make things clearer, and I give a shake of my head.

Mitchell softly speaks. "People don't talk about another person's past here. It's sort of become taboo here. You don't ask about their past either. When a person is ready and wants to, they'll tell it to you."

I think back on all the conversations Brandon and I have had. I had assumed that he wasn't asking about my past because he knew it had to be painful for me, and maybe in a way it is that. Maybe that's exactly why they don't talk about pasts, especially the pasts of others.

Brandon turns then and comes back to join us, but he doesn't smile. It's like some innate sense of his picks up on the change in the air. I want to ask him about everything they've said, but not when we're sitting in front of everyone. He seems to pick up on it though as his eyes meet mine and his hand falls on my shoulder.

"You okay?"

He speaks quietly to me, and I'm ready to say something when I catch the movement of someone walking towards us.

It's nothing more than a shadow, a tall and thin shadow. When he's close enough I catch the glint of his green eyes. At the sight of me, he smiles, and my mind boggles. Already disturbed by what I've possibly learned tonight, I'm even more disturbed by the attention of this man who walks through the cold dark in a tee shirt that doesn't fully cover the dark tattoos on the tanned skin of his arms.

Brandon notices that I'm looking just past him and he turns, a hand still on me. He gives a nod in acknowledgment. "Hey Alex."

Though he's very tall, his face is smooth but for the beginning wisps of a moustache under his nose. I get the feeling that he's not much older than I am.

Maria groans. "Oh Alex. Don't you have dinner to catch?"

"I already ate." He grins at her. I have a feeling that there's something of a joke in there, but I don't quite get it.

Brandon puts his weight on his foot closest to me. "This is my sister, Paula." His words are even, still I think I catch a hint of stress at the "my sister" part which surprises me. "Paula, meet Alex."

Up close, his eyes are bright. They absorb the light and shine brightly as smiles. He looks at me differently than the others do. The others have looked at me more as a curiosity than a person. It's only now that Alex's eyes fall on me that I realize that. He takes in all the details in a way that doesn't feel dirty or obscene. Still it is strange to be the center of such scrutiny so I look away.

A bit of air passes between the teeth of the man who had been standing off from the group talking with Brandon. It catches my attention, and I look up only to see him eyeing Brandon before nodding his head towards another shadow stalking towards us. The light barely illuminates him, but with each step he becomes clearer, and I recognize him just as Brandon tenses beside me.

It's Gray Eyes.

"I'll be right back." Brandon doesn't look at me as he steps away, taking large steps to meet Gray Eyes. The quiet man who brought it to Brandon's attention joins him, leaving me alone with Angel, Mitchell, and Maria again, this time with Alex added to the group. I glance at the rest of them, their eyes also on Brandon as he walks away, though they don't seem nearly as concerned as I feel. This man who I've decided needs to be avoided, a true danger of the sort I've been warned about my entire life, keeps on appearing at the edges of my new life. It's not enough to just avoid him.

I turn to Maria first. She's the closest to my age and so I hope that she'd be the one who'd honestly tell me. "Who is that?"

But she's not. Angel crosses his arms again, his friendly smile from earlier gone. "That's the second in command."

Mitchell glances up at Angel and I can almost see him gulp. "He's supposed to be the leader. That's why he's usually with Mr. Smith."

That might explain why he's always around. Is it possible that Henri is sending him to keep an eye on me?

Brandon still talks to Gray Eyes. The light reaches to his back but leaves their faces in shadows. They don't speak with much movement so it's difficult to tell what is exactly going on. But Gray Eyes attacked someone earlier, so if he's wanting to talk to Brandon, it can't be a good sign.

"Is Brandon in trouble?"

The others share looks amongst themselves. Maria steps forward a bit to stand closer to the fire pit and look me directly in the eyes. "Wait, he didn't tell you about him?" She points over towards Gray Eyes.

I shake my head. Except for earlier, Brandon hasn't really been around when Gray Eyes was around. And even then, Brandon only came after the incident, so there were other things to talk about. "No. Why would he have?"

Another look passes between Maria and Angel. It's starting to annoy me. Mitchell stares at the fire clearly refusing to meet my gaze. Alex watches them, and when I turn he catches my eyes as if he were unsure of what was going on himself.

He speaks softly and simply. "Because they are brothers."

I hear a gasp. Maybe it's my gasp, but it's followed by a silence filled only with the snapping of the flames. "What?"

Maria huffs. "It's complicated."

It sounds very simple to me, but maybe I'm just coming at this with my Neutral version of common sense.

Brandon's with his brother for a few minutes before he heads back over to us. Gray Eyes scans the group of us, his eyes pausing on me a second before he walks off with large strides. At the edge of the group, Brandon stops. The friendly warmth of his gaze fades. Maybe he wasn't expecting me to recognize Gray Eyes in the dark, but he knows I did.

Brandon looks over the others. "She knows, doesn't she."

The whole group avoids looking at Brandon or me. Except for Alex. He looks from me to Brandon like he's going to be the one to step between us even though he just met me. For a fraction of a second, gratefulness swells up in me and I have to fight to keep it down. I don't know Alex any better than I know Brandon, and after staying with Brandon for a few days I was sure I at least had a feel of the man. But I was completely wrong. People will only tell you what they want to tell you, and what they don't tell you could be important.

The gratefulness is shoved down and I let my surprise anger quell up. It gives me the strength to stand, but my voice is so thin that it almost doesn't sound like it comes from me.

"Why wouldn't you have told me that?”

There's a shift in the air as all eyes fall on me even the ones previously looking into the fire, and it feels like they're actually looking at me as more than just a curiosity from the Neutral Territory.

Maria bites her bottom lip and takes a step back. Angel scratches at the back of his neck, and Mitchell goes back to looking away from me.

I expect Brandon to be just as fidgety, but he's not. His hands rest at his side and he looks right at me.

"You weren't ready."

My breath becomes very heavy. How would he know? How in the world could he possibly know what I was or was not ready for? Though I want to scream, I realize it won't do any good and will only draw the attention of the others are nearby. The last thing in the world I'd want is a crowd.

The tall, quiet man who's spent most of the night with Brandon chatting away from the group crosses his arms and stands up straight with a look of disapproval. I can't help feeling out of place and threatened again. Standing in front of them, I feel so very small. Brandon stands with hard pressed lips and expressionless eyes that are much too similar to his brother's. How can I ask for answers from him if he doesn't want to give them to me? How can I ask for answer when I don't even know what questions to ask?

Brandon clears his throat. He looks around at the group with his serious expression unchanging. "We should probably go."

The rest of the group doesn't say anything. Brandon waits for me, and the second I'm by his side, we walk back to his apartment together.



At the apartment, we still don't bother to speak. There's a hardness over Brandon, and though I don't like the dark of the apartment, I like this new side of Brandon even less.

"I'm gonna go to bed," I say, though it still comes out half sounding like a question.

Brandon shifts in the darkness, the tiniest bit of light streaming in from the window lights him up enough that I can barely make his outline out. "You're pissed."

I should be. If this were a normal situation I probably would be. "No. I'm not."

He doesn't say anything and I make my way to the bedroom, trying not to accidentally hit my shin against the small table in the center of the room. I move too fast in my attempt to reach the far wall. My head spins and I reach out my hands for the bedroom doorjamb to have an anchor in the darkness, only the bedroom isn't dark. It's lit by soft moonlight shining through the window and lighting up the room a pale silvery blue. I step into the room without needing to hold onto anything and stop at the foot of the bed.

Brandon steps into the room and into the light too though he stays near the door. "It is pretty isn't it?"

I turn my head towards him slowly. Even with the light, my back was to the living room so there's no way he could have seen the look on my face and yet he's standing here echoing my thoughts. This seems to happen a lot more than chance and coincidence would predict. Under my sweatshirt, the hair on my arms stand up.

He takes another step in the room though he stays back with his hands in his pockets and his eyes towards the ground. "There is more I didn't tell you."

I swallow and wait. He shifts from one foot to the other and exhales again.

"I can read minds."

The sudden silence as he waits for me to process that thought frightens me and I have to reach forward and grab the metal rail of the bed. The cold metal against my hand spreads the goose bumps from my arms to the middle of my back between my shoulder blades. I hadn't thought to ask him directly about whether he had a power or not. I mean, isn't that just the sort of thing you'd know? Sort of like the way I knew just by looking at Angel that he probably has powers of some sort.

Brandon shifts again. "It's not intentional. I just pick up stray thoughts that rise above the rest. I can't shut them out. I've tried. I hear them no matter what even if I don't want to."

There really isn't much to say to that. I probably don't have to say anything because if the thought is strong enough he's probably picking it up already.

I lean more on the one hand resting on the slowly warming metal of the bed rail. "Why didn't you tell me?"

His words quietly slip into the dark, sliding into the space between us with so little effort. "You were barely holding it together as it was." Brandon shifts. I have a feeling that there's more he wants to say, so I wait. In a lower voice, he adds, "And maybe I wasn't ready."

It's such a normal, average thing. He speaks it softly, self consciously, like a boy admitting to a lie, sharing the truth even though he knows it will hurt. I can't just let it stay between us, leaving him out in the open, but I don't know what to say. Why wouldn't he have been ready? Doesn't he deal with this all the time?

Then I remember his words when I first got here and he told me everything. You don't like us, do you? He said it with a smirk as if he knew the answer. "Did you think I wouldn't like you if I knew?"

Brandon stays still, a shadow covering his face. "Do you?"

I take a deep breath, letting all the tension in my body gather, then I breathe it out. Once it's gone, a smile is free to make its way onto my lips, and I give him a nod before I realize he may not be looking at me. "Yes," I creak, swallowing a tear or two.

Brandon looks up, and though the shadows are still on his face, there's also a touch of moonlight outlining his smile. He takes one step closer, casually reaching out to rub the top of my head like any normal brother would. It seems that's enough. He doesn't say more on it. He just turns towards the door. "Probably time to go to sleep."

I lay down on the bed, and a moonbeam falls on my arm. The light reflects off my pale skin and I look like I'm glowing. For a while, I stare at the effect on my arm and the darker hairs that cast small shadows. This is something I never would have taken the time to enjoy before back home. I always had a light on when I went to bed. It was a convenience and a comfort to have a light on.

I think back to that night when Mom and me were separated and how I woke in the middle of the night with my heart racing as if I knew something would happen. Now I know what tipped me off to something being wrong when I woke up. My little night light was out. They had probably cut the power to our house to prevent us from turning on lights or calling out for help or disturbing the neighbors with the late night activity. But that hadn't helped when we were out front and Mom saw me. When she screamed my name loud enough to wake everyone and probably send them to their windows to see what happened. Someone had to have seen despite their best efforts to avoid it.

And that thought makes me smile as I fall asleep with my arm still in the moonbeam.