The Nightmare My Life Has Become {working title} *unfinished

Thanks, Lucky.

Those two chapters were absolutely amazing. :33

Thanks, Shadow. I have a ton more but I'm too lazy to put it up now. xD

Okay, this story badly needs a new title... xP Anyone have any ideas?

Heh... sorry for the flood. xD Enjoy.

Chapter 12
Before leaving the room, I remember at the last minute to pocket my six-shaped key thing. Then I open the door and slip out. Lilac is still there, waiting. She glances at me, taking in my expression, then turns away.
“Come on,” she says, striding down the hall. I hurry after her.
“Where’s Dennis?” I ask, wondering why, if he bothered to take me from the hospital in the first place, he wasn’t showing me around.
“He’s . . . very busy,” she replies, and I can tell by her face and tone that she’s worried about him. Neither of us says more, and I try to keep my mind busy by watching the people moving up and down the halls. After a while, I notice that there’s a disproportionate amount of identical twins walking together, and plenty of people who look like siblings but not identical, too. I glance at Lilac.
“Is everyone here a twin?”
“Just about,” she replies, and I see a girl who looks like the redhead from yesterday but is taller and slimmer walk by. “Identical twins seem to have the most power, but only fraternals can fight without their twin by their side.”
“Fight . . .” I echo softly. The red haired girl said something about fighting, but she never said who or why. Something occurs to me then, and I swallow hard. “But then . . . I’m useless, aren’t I?” I whisper, dropping my gaze. “Why are you bothering to help me?”
She shakes her head. “There’s ways around it, but it can be . . . painful. Especially at first.”
“Is everything painful here?” I mumble under my breath, thinking of the horrible injection Dennis gave me when I first arrived.
“Sorry, what?”
“Nothing,” I reply quickly. “So if . . . everyone here has a twin, who’s yours?”
Her face turns stony. “I never knew her.” She pulls back her sleeve to reveal a long scar down the whole length of her arm. “We were Siamese twins. They tried to separate us and she didn’t make it.”
“Oh,” I whisper, my eyes widening in surprise. I avert my gaze from her scar, feeling sick. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
She laughs bitterly. “Don’t be. I can’t miss what I never knew.” But the look on her face tells me that it bothers her a lot more than she ever says.
I shut my mouth.
The tour Lilac gives me takes about an hour. She shows me the labs, the treatment centers, the monitor room – there’s even more monitors than I’d seen before; the whole back wall is full of them – and a room with a huge, flashing screen up on the wall covered in numbers. Three sets of triplets are there, at least I assume they’re triplets because they’re in groups of three rather than two like in all the other rooms I’ve seen, and I can see similar features in each set though only two woman in the furthest set are identical. Each group of three is huddled in a little circle, holding hands with looks of concentration on their faces. I glance at Lilac, confused. She gently shuts the door so we don’t disturb them before explaining, “Triplets’ powers tend to be specialized towards calculations. They’re responsible for . . . finding more of us.”
“More twins with . . . with powers, you mean?”
“Yes,” she says briefly, and doesn’t elaborate even though I know there must be more. Calculations seem unnecessary for finding twins, though who knows, maybe there’s some sort of formula for figuring out which ones have these “powers.’”
I decide not to dwell on it and instead follow her down the main hall, all the way to the end. Two huge double doors with frosted glace windows sit tightly shut, and I can hear muffled shouts and crashes and clangs from the other side. I glance at Lilac and she nods, telling me to go ahead. I swallow hard and reach for the metal door handles. My fingers curl tightly around one of the knobs and I push down and away from me, startled by the weight of the door. When I first pushed, it felt like it weighed about a million pounds, but after I concentrate for a second it turns as light as a feather. I gasp and snatch my hand away as if it’s white hot.
Lilac smiles. “Very good. I’ve never seen a lone identical do it that fast before.”
I stare at my upturned palm. “You mean . . . I did that?”
She nods in confirmation. “Go ahead, open it.”
Cautiously I stretch my arm out again and push open the door just a little. I peek through the crack, tentative of what I might see.
My jaw drops in amazement. On the other side of the door is a grassy field, complete with rolling hills, ponds and creeks, and even a small lake nestled between two of the taller hills. I can see the walls curving away to either side and meeting up far, far away on the horizon to form a perfect circle. The ceiling forms a huge dome above the field, enveloping the enormous room.
“Cool, huh?” Lilac says with a smile at my expression. “There’s another two floors below us, forest and desert.”
“B – but . . . what’s it all for?”
“Training,” she replies, pointing at the people all around us. The youngest I can see look about ten; most are no older than twenty. They’re all fighting.
By fighting, I don’t mean arguing. I mean actually fighting, with swords and spears and martial arts. I think I see a few bow and arrow ranges, and some rifles off to the sides, and . . .
“Oh my God, is that magic?”

Chapter 13
“You’re too tense,” Marie tells me, tapping my shoulder. “You’ll never hit anything if you’re as taut as the bowstring.”
“Bend your arm,” Lou advises, forcing my elbow to fold just a little and adjusting my grip on the wooden part of the bow.
“Good,” Marie says with a smile, circling me once to examine my form. “Now pull back on the string.”
“Slowly,” Lou adds, demonstrating on his own bow. I try to hold their advice in my head, but it’s hard to concentrate, especially with all the clanging of swords and yelling and freaking magic going on all around me. Only it’s not actually magic, according to Lilac, just “internal force focused with extreme concentration into an external manifestation.” She wouldn’t explain it any more than that and had handed me off to the fraternal twins – who, judging by their looks and by the fact that they seem to be kind of in charge of things here, seem to be about twenty – in charge of the archery station, saying that she had other things to do before hurrying off again.
“Now let go,” Marie says, and I do, releasing the tension in the string. The sudden change in tightness causes the bow to jerk backwards and my hands jolt in surprise along with it. The arrow goes way wide, hitting the wall about twenty feet up and to our right. It breaks in half and falls back to the grass. Marie goes to pick it up, while Lou tries to explain about how an archer’s hands should be perfectly still no matter what, but I’m not listening, because I’ve just remembered how Mary and I used to love pretending we had bows and arrows when we were younger and used to go out into the woods and pretend to hunt squirrels and things, and the thought sends a wave of pain and loss and fresh, raw grief through me that’s so acute it actually causes me to burst into tears, right there in front of everyone. I haven’t cried in front of strangers since I was five, not even when I’d broken my arm sliding into home plate at a softball game when I was twelve.
Completely bewildered, Lou badly attempts to comfort me, patting my shoulder awkwardly and saying things like “There there” and “It wasn’t that bad of a shot” and “It’s not that bad; you can try again in a minute” until Marie returns, the broken arrow in her hands. She shoves it at Lou, who takes the pieces in bafflement while she’s shaking her head in disgust.
“Idiot, can’t you see it’s not about the shot?”
She takes my arm and leads me away to a more or less deserted, grassy area on the outskirts of the field, sitting me down against the wall. I hide my face in my knees and wrap my arms around my legs, continuing to sob. She puts her arms gently around me, warm and comforting but not confining, and I lean into her a little, because it reminds me of the way my mother used to hold me when I cried. The thought brings on a fresh round of tears; I miss her so much.
Eventually I cry myself out – for the second time that day, no less – and pull away, letting out an embarrassed little sniffle and wiping my eyes and nose with my sleeve. “Sorry,” I mumble, ducking out from her arms and getting to my feet.
“It’s all right.” She pushes herself upright as well, and there’s sympathy in her eyes. “Did you lose someone?”
I nod shakily. “My mother and sister.”
“Your twin?” she guesses, and I nod confirmation. “Twins are always the hardest,” she murmurs, shaking her head and gazing out at the field. “You’d be surprised at how many people out there are going through the same thing you are now.”
“Doubt it,” I say bitterly, and instantly regret it. I sound selfish and self-centered, looking for something to complain about. Heck, maybe I am.
She glances briefly at me but doesn’t comment. After a moment she lets out a breath. “Things are pretty tough here,” she warns me, her eyes fixed on something at the far wall. “From here on, it’s fight or die.” I look at her, startled. She laughs bitterly. “That’s what life’s like here. Take it or leave it. Learn to adapt or learn to die.” Then she strides away, back towards the archery station and her brother.
Over the next few weeks, I’m passed from weapon to weapon, trying to find something I’m good at. I don’t have the hand-eye coordination required for archery or guns, I don’t have the reflexes for sword fighting or hand to hand combat, and I don’t have the strength or balance for any sort of martial arts. The experts at each station try their best, but nothing sticks. By the end of my second week there, I’ve just about given up on ever being of use in any kind of fight – though I still have no idea who we’re supposed to be fighting or why – and no one will answer any of my questions about anything. Just as I’m starting to form the opinion that none of them knows anything in the first place, I finally get the chance to speak to Dennis again. As I slip inside the room I was told to go to, it strikes me that I’ve never actually had a real conversation with Dennis. The only thing that came close was when he took me from the hospital, and even then he wouldn’t explain anything, just telling me to run. The room is empty, and as I take a seat in one of the chairs scattered around the space, I resolve to not stop pestering him until I actually get some answers. No sooner have I made my resolution than Dennis walks through the door, seating himself across from me and clearing some board game I don’t recognize off of the table between us. I glance at him, and he doesn’t look any better or less tired than the last time I saw him. If anything, he looks worse. In fact, he looks so horribly exhausted that I immediately abandon my aggressive approach in favor of a more tactful one, though I’m determined to keep my vow of not letting him out of my sight till he answers at least some of my questions.
But before I can get a word out, he starts out the conversation by saying, “Let’s just get this over with. What do you want to know?” Then he answers his own question by adding, “Let me guess. Who am I, what’s going on, who are we fighting, and why are we fighting them?” I nod wordlessly. There’s so much more than that, of course, but that’ll do to start. He laughs mirthlessly. “Everyone new always asks those questions. I really have to get started on that orientation video.” Though the joke is strained and not that funny, he actually cracks a smile. “Well. To start with, my name is Dennis. Don’t have a last name; I dropped it when I was four. I’m fifteen years old and I’m the unofficial head of this organization
“We’re fighting a group of people called the Chancellors. Their goal is basically to take over the world; your basic fantasy/sci fi type villain. There are only six of them, but their powers are a hundred times those of the most powerful of us. They have one weakness: They can only fight when they’re connected. Break their telepathic link with one of their number, and their powers decrease to almost nothing. Unfortunately, that’s harder than it sounds . . . Even death isn’t enough to separate them.
“And as for what’s going on . . . Well, that’s simple enough. We train, we fight, we die. That’s all there is to it. Anything else you want to know?” His eyebrows raise expectantly.
I swallow hard. There are about a billion questions I want to ask, all jostling for priority on the way from my brain to my mouth, but the one that’s least polite, of course, jumps to the fore.
“Why do you always looks so sad?” I blurt.
The corner of his mouth twists in a wry, bitter smile. “Maybe it’s because I watched my mother shot at the age of four. Maybe it’s because I watch my friends slaughtered on an almost monthly basis. And maybe it’s because I have to run around trying to keep everything going while also trying not to get myself killed and also hopping around between people who don’t know me to watch them grow up and then to watch them die.” His voice has risen to the shrill, almost hysterical tone of someone on the verge of nervous collapse. His lips press together so hard that they turn white, and I can tell he’s said more than he meant to.
My fingernails dig into the hard wood of the chair arm as I try to keep my voice steady and not shriek at him for not saving my family when he could. “It’s not my imagination, then. Seeing you appear and disappear.”
He shakes his head, obviously regretting his outburst but unable to do anything about it now. “No. It’s my job to . . . to follow around, no, watch over is a better term, certain sets of twins who are fit to join us. I asked Lilac to lie to you when she showed you around; the triplets aren’t just finding new recruits. They’re calculating their Potential Days so I can be there.
“Potential Days?” I echo, confused.
“Every human has an array of days, certain set times when, depending on the choices made, they might die, or at least be put in a life-threatening situation, and they might not. For us, it’s always young . . . too young. There’s nothing anyone can do to stop them. It’s my job to visit any possible recruits on those days, to watch in case anything happens. If you survive, I watch you for a while longer, wait for a chance to bring you here. If not . . . Well, that’s that.”
His tone is so cold, so unfeeling. Like he doesn’t even care about all the death’s he’s witnessed. But then I look at him and I know it’s just the opposite. He’s seen so much in such a short time. It makes my heart ache just to look at all the reflected pain in his eyes. I drop my gaze back to the table.
“So Mary . . . Mary was set to die, that day?” I whisper, glancing at him.
He nods, and I look away, swallowing the lump in my throat. “And you were too, but you managed to get through it. And the fire . . . that was another. But it wasn’t meant for you.” I can tell by his tone that it was meant for Terrence.
“And that’s why you warned me,” I whispered. “Because I wasn’t supposed to die there.”
“Right. I might have interfered with Terrence’s Day, but . . .” He trails off. “If I did, I don’t care,” he finishes finally, his voice cracking.
“And . . . and what about your scar?” I ask, sneaking a glance at the two red lines down his cheek. “Terrence has one just like it . . . That’s what made me think you were . . . I don’t know, his ghost or something.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“And . . .” I pause, twisting my fingers anxiously beneath the table. “Lilac told me . . . Identical twins couldn’t do anything without their sibling. But you’ve lasted this long without Terrence . . . And Mary and I . . .” I swallow hard.
“There are . . . ways around it,” he says, staring off into space somewhere over my left shoulder. “For every identical twin . . . There’s someone else out there, another identical, that’s . . . compatible.” His words are slow; I can tell he’s choosing them with care. “That other twin can act as a . . . a sort of . . . substitute, I guess, but so much more . . .” His voice trails off.
“So you and Lilac are compatible?” I guess. He nods.
“How do I find this . . . substitute?”
“Just look,” he says simply. “When you find him, you’ll know.”
My eyebrows raise. “‘Him’?” I echo.
If this were a cartoon, he probably would have facepalmed. But it wasn’t a cartoon, so he simply looked sheepish. “Yeah. It’s going to be a guy. That’s . . . all I can tell you. The rest you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

Chapter 14
“Excuse me,” Dennis says after several minutes of awkward silence, his voice oddly stiff and formal. “I’m really busy, so unless you have anything more to ask . . .?”
Though not all of my questions have been answered – not even close – the most pressing ones are off my mind for now, and I suppose I should be grateful for the answers I got.
I shake my head. “No, that’s fine.”
He nods once and gets up, leaving the room. I wait several minutes, pondering over the information I’ve received in silence. After a while, though, the door opens again and I twist around in surprise. A group of people I don’t know stream in, talking and laughing like they don’t have a care in the world. They gather around a table and one boy picks up a deck of cards, beginning to deal them out. Another passes around poker chips, and I glance around, finally noticing the many games and decks of cards and books placed neatly on shelves lining the walls. This must be the recreation room, or one of them, anyway, since it doesn’t look big enough for everyone in the organization based on the size of the training fields.
Then, before I can leave, one of the kids looking over his card hand glances up and notices me over his friends’ shoulders. His eyebrows raise and he nudges the boy next to him, who’s obviously his identical twin and is busy trying to sneak the ace of spades into his sleeve. The second twin looks up, shaking his reddish hair out of his eyes, and then in perfect synchronization, as if they planned it, both boys set down their card hands face down and move around the table to approach me. I glance up at them tentatively; they look about seventeen or eighteen and have builds like either of them could be the star quarterback on a high school football team.
“You new?” the first twin says. I nod.
“No twin,” the second twin notices. I look away.
“He’s Darryl-“ the first one begins.
“-and he’s Zach,” his brother finishes.
“Gabriella,” I introduce myself quietly.
“Oh, so you’re the car crash girl,” Zach says with a smirk, exchanging a knowing glance with his brother.
Darryl grins. “Heard all about you.”
My eyes widen in shock. “From who?” It’s not like I’ve interacted with that many people since I arrived.
“Lots of people,” Zach says.
“Lilac-“
“-Lou and Marie-”
“-Charles and Alex-”
“-Gertrude-”
“-and the Mason triplets.”
“To name a few.”
“But don’t worry-”
“-it’s nothing bad.” They both laugh. It’s creepy, how they keep finishing each other’s sentences.
Zach wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Isn’t it?”
I jump. “Huh?” They let out another guffaw.
“Zee, Dee, you two bothering a newbie?” A girl around their age comes over and puts an arm around each of their shoulders. It looks innocent enough, but after a moment she laughs and releases them and they stagger away from her, massaging their necks. She grins at me. “Don’t mind these two idiots. Their powers are focused towards telepathy. Doesn’t seem to make ‘em any brighter, though.” She laughs again and I force a tentative smile, though I’m still pretty much completely bewildered.
“Telepathy . . .” I repeat slowly. “So they can read minds?”
“Ah, so she’s finally got it!” Darryl exclaims, moving towards me, but he backs away again as the girl glances confidently at him. He and his brother rejoin the group at the poker table, leaving me alone with the girl.
“I’m Mary,” she tells me, and I stiffen. She notices my change in posture and looks me over curiously. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I mumble, my hands clenching and unclenching on my lap. “It’s just . . . That is . . . was . . . my sister’s name.”
“Oh,” she says, watching me thoughtfully. “Well . . . tell you what. You can call me by my last name, if you want. Crowe. Most people do anyway.”
“O – okay,” I say, swallowing hard.
“Yo, Crowe, you playing or not?”
“Ante!” she calls in response. “No raise.” She turns back to me. “Well, I gotta go. You’re welcome to stay and watch, if you want.”
“No, that’s okay,” I say quietly.
“Okay.” She shrugs and gets up, going over to join her friends at the poker table.

Chapter 15
I’m not counting the days or anything, but about a month passes uneventfully.
I’ve finally accepted that this is one nightmare I’ll never wake up from, and it’s become a little more bearable. I’m no longer wishing for death – I don’t think I would have been brave enough to carry out suicide anyway – and I’ve made some friends, no one really close, but friends nonetheless. Lilac, Marie and Lou, Crowe and her sister Martha. I guess even Darryl and Zach (or Dee and Zee, as they preferred to be called) can be considered my friends, though they tend to be more annoying than affable.
I’m even starting to improve on the training field. I can shoot an arrow in a more-or-less straight line, and actually hit the target maybe one out of five times. Sword fighting is still beyond me, but I can sometimes land a blow or two in hand-to-hand combat. Little by little, I’m being accepted into the community, said hello to in the corridors, every once in a while being invited to activities in the rec rooms. Dee, Zee, and Crowe teamed up (for once) to teach me Texas Hold ‘Em and I’m actually not too bad.
I almost never see Dennis, and when I do he looks harried and stressed and exhausted, always rushing down the hall to whatever he needs to do next. Lilac looks worried whenever I ask about him and I wonder how much longer he can keep up the pace that he’s been forcing himself to keep.
And then one day, when I push open the big double doors that lead to the training field, I see him over on the edge of the room, talking to someone who has his back to me. When I head over to the archery station, I sneak a glance at them as I pass, and stop dead.
It’s Terrence.
A second later, Dennis notices me, and quietly says something I can’t hear. Terrence turns to look at me, and his eyes widen in recognition.
Now that I see the two of them side by side, I can see slight differences in their appearances. Dennis is just slightly taller, maybe by an inch or so. Terrence’s face is longer, his nose just a little thinner. Dennis is more haggard, his face paler, with dark shadows under his eyes. Their scars, though, are exactly identical.
Dennis says something else to Terrence, who glances at his brother, a frown on his face. Dennis shrugs apologetically and walks away. Terrence looks after him, disappointment on his face, before turning back towards me. He approaches cautiously, and as he does, I realize how much I’ve missed him.
Which is weird, because I only knew him for a few days.
“Gabriella?” he asks, as if uncertain, and I nod. “Dennis said . . . you could show me around?”
I almost laugh out loud. I can still barely find my way to and from my room as it is, and I get lost and find more corridors that I haven’t seen yet every day. But I don’t say that, just, “Sure. Did he say what he wanted me to show you?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Okay, then. Er . . . Well, this is the training field . . . Below us is another for forest terrain and then below that is another for desert.” I lead him out the door, and he hurries after me. I glance back at him and his eyes are wide with shock.
“You’re . . . walking?”
“Oh . . . right.” I’ve almost forgotten about my time in a chair. Well, not forgotten, exactly, more like I’m trying to suppress the memories. “Your brother fixed me up, somehow. I don’t know.”
“And that . . . stuff that the people out on the field were doing. The magic, with the lights and the telekinesis and stuff.”
“It’s not magic,” I tell him. “It’s ‘internal force focused with extreme concentration into an external manifestation.’” I let him know that Lilac’s incomprehensible explanation isn’t my own words by adding sarcastic little air quotes. “Don’t ask. I don’t know either.” He laughs a little and I crack a smile.
“Anyway, certain twins and sometimes triplets have these powers. Fraternal twins can do it alone, but it’s not as powerful, and identicals need their twin there. Or a substitute.”
“A substitute?” he echoes, and I nod.
“Someone compatible.” I still don’t really understand most of this myself, so I’m mostly just repeating what I’ve been told.
“Huh,” he mumbles, staring at the ground. “So I guess Dennis already has a substitute, if he’s been here so long and is doing so much.”
“Yes,” I admit. “Maybe it works in threes when you’re not triplets? I don’t know.” But I doubt it. I don’t add that out loud, though.
“And you?” he says, not commenting on my faked optimism. “Do you have one?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“You’re just as useless as me, then,” and he smiles sourly.
“Right,” I scoff. “You’ve still got Dennis.”
“Barely,” he says with a shrug, and I know he’s right; Dennis is already so busy and stressed and exhausted that I don’t know how he even find the time to get Terrence and bring him here in the first place.
I shrug and turn away. I feel a bit sorry for him, yeah, but I can’t bring myself to sympathize with someone complaining about something like this when I’ll never see my sister again. “That’s what life is like here,” I say, thinking of what Marie told me on my first day. “Tough it out, learn to fight. That’s all we can do.” I’m halfway down the hall when I realize that I can’t hear his footsteps behind me. I turn and see he hasn’t moved at all, his back rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Don’t you dare condescend me, Gabriella,” he says angrily, his face contorting with fury. But a single condescending statement isn’t enough to make anyone angry like this, so I know it must run deeper than that.
“Don’t make excuses,” I shoot back, and my temper – which hasn’t really had a chance to do anything in a while – flares. “Just say what you mean.”
“At least you knew your sister!” he blurts out, eyes blazing. “You grew up with her, you got to know her. You had a mother who loved you. I’ve been alone my entire life. And now that I’ve finally found my brother, he doesn’t even have time for me. So don’t you ever pretend that you’ve gone through so much that nothing else matters. Ever, Gabriella. Because it’s not true.”
His little tirade shocks me into silence, but only for a minute. When I find my voice, I yell back, “But you have a brother now! He cares about you, he’s been trying to find you, but you don’t seem to appreciate that! And in case you hadn’t noticed, Dennis is very much alive, whereas Mary is dead! So maybe I’m not the only one who’s gone through things, Terrence, but neither are you. I’d tell you not to forget that, but I think you already have.” My hands are shaking with fury, and so are his. Suddenly my right fist flies open of its own accord and a red spark jumps from my palm to his, and then to his other hand as well. The spark swells into a sphere the size of a basketball and, before either of us can react, launches itself at me. Without time to dodge, I instinctively throw my hands up in front of my face as if to protect myself, though I know it won’t work.
I force myself to keep my eyes open, resisting the urge to flinch away from the sphere. It would have been harder if I hadn’t spent my life around balls that could cause serious injury if they hit you hard enough. I have an instant to wonder what the sphere will feel like. Will it be hard and knock me out, like a basketball? Or will it burn, or simply kill when it touches me? But then, about an inch away from my face, it's as if it hit an invisible wall. It fizzles out of existence and I drop my hands to my sides, stunned.
Terrence sinks slowly to his knees, his breathing heavy and his hands trembling with exhaustion rather than anger, now. The power and lethality of the red sphere, whatever it was, has sucked all the rage and tension from the air, and I look at him with concern, breathing hard and inexplicably tired as well, though not as much as he his by the look of him.
“Are you okay?”
He swallows hard, nods, and uses the wall to push himself to his feet.
“What . . . what was that?” he whispers, still breathing heavily.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I’d say it was the same power I’ve seen the others use on the training field, except neither of us have our twins with us.
Unless . . .
No. No way. Terrence is not my substitute. If he is, we’re both dead. Another blowup like that and who knows what would happen. It has to have been something else.
I cast him a sidelong glance. He’s pale and shaking with exhaustion, leaning on the wall, though it looks like his legs are about to buckle any second. I’m about to offer to take him to his room when I realize that he probably doesn’t even have one yet. I glance around, wondering where we are and hoping there’s someplace nearby that I can take him, because I don’t think he can make it very far in this state without a nice, long rest. After a moment I realize that, somehow, we’re very close to the corridor that leads to my quarters.
“Come on,” I say, reaching out to steady him. “We’re not far from my room; you can rest there.”
“I’m fine,” he tries to insist. “I don’t need to rest.” But then his knees give way beneath him and if I hadn’t been partially holding him up already he would have crumpled. As it is, he kind of tilts sideways and I stagger a little under his sudden weight. “Sorry,” he gasps, finding his feet again but still relying on me for support quite a bit.
I don’t reply but instead guide him down the hall, towards my room. When we reach the door, his face is covered in a sheen of sweat, and I fish around in my pocket for a moment before pulling out the key and unlocking the door. I help him over to the bed, where he promptly collapses face first onto the mattress and passes out. I watch him for a moment, unsure of what to do. I wonder if I should find Dennis and tell him what’s going on, or at least go back to the training field or something, but I doubt I’d be able to find Dennis in a reasonable amount of time, and I’m quite tired myself, despite the fact that it’s only ten thirty or so in the morning. It’s not as if I have anything else to do today, anyway. I slump down in a hard wooden chair and close my eyes, and next thing I know I’m asleep.

Chapter 16
I stretch out groggily, wondering why my bed is so hard. I pry my eyes open to find that I’ve been sleeping on the hardwood floor of my room. I glance around, remembering what happened yesterday, and realize that I must have slipped off the chair in my sleep. I stifle a groan as my stiff muscles protest the efforts required to sit up. I ache all over and feel horribly sore, and it’s not just from sleeping on the floor, because I’ve slept on bare rock before – we were backpacking and somehow all our gear ended up floating down the river – and never felt this bad.
Despite the ache, I force myself to my feet and stretch out my limbs and back, feeling just a little better afterwards. I sigh, wondering what time it is. I’m guessing it’s been at least several hours, which is odd, because I’d only been awake for an hour or two before meeting Terrence at the training field. Ah well, at least I didn’t have any poker games today. That would have been tough to explain.
I glance over at Terrence for the first time. He’s still out cold on the bed – I feel a flash of resentment, it’s my bed after all, but quickly suppress it, recalling how worn out he’d been – but he’s rolled over onto his back sometime during the night – or day, or whatever – and as I draw closer I can see a dark, reddish splotch on the chest of his gray t-shirt that I was pretty sure hadn’t been there yesterday. It’s only on the left side, directly over his heart. Tentatively, I reach out to touch it lightly with a single finger and quickly snatch my hand away again. The stain is wet, and still warm. Fresh blood. My first instinct is to check the door, but no, it’s still tightly shut the way I left it. The lock is still intact, too, and I have the only key. There are no windows, because judging by the fact that I haven’t seen any anywhere else either, or any doors to the outside, I’m thinking that we might be underground.
So what could have caused this?
After a moment’s consideration, I realize that I should be caring more about making sure that Terrence is going to be all right and less about figuring out why he’s not, at least for the moment. I should have thought of that right away. What’s wrong with me that I didn’t?
Is it safe to leave him alone, though? Whatever did this might come back to finish him off. But then I realize that unless he gets help ASAP – and I check his pulse now, to make sure it’s not already too late – he’s not going to make it much longer anyway. I snatch the key from where I dropped it coming in and stuff it into my pocket before wrenching open the door and rushing out into the hall. I stop dead, realizing that I have no idea which way to go. I haven’t been to the treatment center since my first day here and as I said earlier, I’m still very much lost here even when I do more or less know where I’m going. I almost stamp my feet in frustration, but catch myself just in time. It’s childish and won’t help to solve anything. I spin around in a helpless circle, as if looking for a neon-lit arrow saying “TREATMENT CENTER THIS WAY!”
A boy I don’t know rounds the corner, vague surprise registering in his eyes as he notices me. He’s good looking, I note, with thick blondish hair and eyes the color of clear sky. He seems to be around sixteen, and has several inches on me the height department, though he’s so skinny that he can’t weigh more than ten or twenty pounds over what I do.
“Do you need some help?” he asks uncertainly.
“Yes!” I exclaim, relief flooding through me. “Do you know the way to the treatment center?”
He points back the way he came. “That way, hang a left at door ten, take the second right, and down two floors on the stairs at the end of the hall.”
“Thank you!” I say quickly, dashing down the hall. I follow his directions and reach the bottom of the staircase just in time to see a redheaded girl just closing the last door and turning to lock it.
“Gertrude!” I call the name of the girl who treated me when I first came here, but when she turns I can see it’s not her, it’s her sister, who I’ve never actually talked to, though I’ve seen her around. Though they look very similar, they’re actually fraternal, apparently. And, somehow, though Gertrude has an accent, her twin doesn’t. Maybe they were separated at birth or something.
“I’m not Gertrude,” she says flatly, and I remember how much Mary and I used to hate getting mixed up when we were kids. My face flushes. “Sorry. But, uh, Terrence is hurt.”
Her eyes seem to light up at the prospect of an injury to treat – geez, she must love healing – and she says, “Show me the way.” So I do, taking the stairs two at a time and leading her back to my room. I unlock the door and she enters first, a look of steely concentration passing over her face as she strides over to her patient. She examines the blood on his shirt first.
“The shirt is whole,” she notices. “So it’s not an externally caused wound.” My eyes widen in surprise. If it’s not external, what is it?
Then, she very carefully eases his shirt off over his head, being careful not to wake him, though it doesn’t look like she really has to worry about that. He looks completely dead to the world. Despite my urge to give him at least a little privacy, my eyes fasten on the wound, and I see the six paper-thin cuts over his heart, which are bleeding profusely. The redheaded girl produces a piece of ShamWow and presses it gently to the slices, I think in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The fabric is soaked in seconds and my stomach churns. How can such small cuts, even over the heart, produce that much blood? And how long had he been bleeding before I noticed? Who knows how much of his vital fluids he’s lost already.
“What happened?” The girl’s voice is hard, devoid of emotion, and I wonder if this means that she’s not sure if she can save him.
“He . . . he . . . I don’t know.” I bite my lip, trying not to look at the blood. “We were arguing . . . And then there was this spark, and it turned into a red ball, and then I blocked it, and he was really tired so I brought him in here and I fell asleep and then I woke up and he was like this.” I gesture helplessly towards him.
She nods thoughtfully. “And you’re both new, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Never used your powers before?”
“Yeah.”
“When did this happen?”
“I . . . This morning, I think. I’m not sure. I don’t know how long I slept.”
She glances at me. “And how do you feel?”
“ . . .Tired,” I admitted after a moment. “And really sore.”
“Hmm . . .” she murmurs, glancing down at Terrence again. “Well, that makes things simpler.”
“It – it does?” I don’t see how that in any way makes things simpler, but I don’t say this, just wait for an explanation and hope one is forthcoming.
“Very much so,” she says with another nod. “You’ve both overextended yourselves. Him more than you.” She points towards the bathroom. “Go in there and look at your chest.”
Uncertain, I do as she says, closing and latching the door tightly behind me and yanking off my t-shirt and undershirt. There, over my heart, are six tiny little dots, arranged in a perfect circle, as if someone pricked me with a needle. Each one has a tiny drop of blood oozing from it and I wipe it away with a shiver, pulling my shirt back on so I don’t have to look anymore. I leave the bathroom and sink into a chair, staring at the floor.
“What . . . what is it?” I whisper.
“Overextension,” she replies grimly. “You’re both untrained, inexperienced, and completely out of control, and without the proper training even the weakest things can do it. The farther you overdo it, the bigger, deeper, and bloodier those cuts on your chest are, and the more exhausted you’ll be. If you overextend far beyond your limits, you will literally shatter.”
I stare at her.
“With rest you should both heal fine,” she adds. “He’ll be under for another day or two, at least, and you’ll be in and out till then, too. We’ll move you both down to the treatment center once he wakes. And don’t even think of using your powers again until those cuts are completely gone. Scabs, scars, everything. Kapish?” I nod wordlessly and curl up on the chair I’m sitting in, already exhausted again. My muscles ache for a soft bed, but I know that won’t happen, so I’ll have to settle for the chair again and hope I don’t end up on the floor. Despite my weariness, it takes me a while to get to sleep. It isn’t until I’m halfway under that I realize that we both used our powers. Without our twins. Which means only one thing.
But before I can finish the thought, exhaustion claims me and sleep drags me under the comforting blanket of unconsciousness.
In my nightmare, I’m once again in the car with my mother and sister, stopped at a red light. I look over and see Dennis on the corner, because I know that’s what happened so I might as well. But when I look, I don’t see Dennis, I see Terrence, and as I watch his arms fly out, green magic spraying from his palms and blocking the gap between my car and the drunk driver’s before he can make contact. But then I see dark blood soak through the front of his shirt and he drops to his knees. “Terrence!” I yell, fumbling with the lock on the door. I yank it open and jump out of the car, but before I can take a step, my legs break and burn with the fire I’m no longer accustomed to, and I crumple to the ground. As I fall, I see Mary and my mother, heads lolling, dead in the front seat. “No!” I scream, and my eyes snap open.
I look around the room, breathing hard. Everything is quiet. There’s no one here but Terrence and me, and he’s still out for the count. Somehow I’ve managed to remain curled up on my chair, and judging by the lack of cramps in my muscles when I stretch I haven’t been sleeping long, probably an hour at most. I’m still completely wiped and it’s already getting difficult to keep my eyes open, so I don’t.
The next thing I know, the door opens and two people walk in, I can by their footsteps. I crack my eyes open to see . . . Terrence? No, Dennis. Dennis and Lilac. He strides over to the bed, looking down at his brother. His hands are trembling with helplessness, and she takes one of them, giving it a comforting squeeze. I remain very still. Why am I always put into situations when I have no choice but to spy on them?
“So it’s true,” he says finally, his voice soft. “Who would have thought the two of them were compatible?”
“Love is unpredictable,” she murmurs in reply, and I’m confused. What does love have to do with anything? “Especially soul mating. We of all people should know that.”
They’re quiet then, silently watching Terrence. After a few minutes, as if by some unspoken signal, the turn and leave. The door clicks shut softly behind them and I sit up slowly, stretching out the stiffness in my limbs. I still don’t know how long I’d been sleeping before they came in, but it must have been a while, five hours at least.
What did she mean, love is unpredictable? Being compatible doesn’t have anything do with love.
But now that I think about it . . . Lilac and Dennis, they’re obviously together. They’re compatible. And what did Dennis say when I talked to him in the rec room? “That other twin can act as a . . . a sort of . . . substitute, I guess, but so much more . . .” “Just look. When you find him, you’ll know.” “It’s going to be a guy. That’s . . . all I can tell you. The rest you’ll have to find out for yourself.”
“Especially soul mating,” Lilac had said.
Finally, it hits me.
Terrence and I are soul mates.
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I can see you've been busy, Ratty!

Lol, though, titles . . . would you prefer something simple or something more . . . poetic?

But omg, I loved those chapters. x3 Especially the last one, with the soul mate stuff.

Yes. xD This is what much roadtripping does to me.

Hmm... Well, depends on the title. xD

Tankuuuu. Yes, soul mating FTW. I think I shall create some drama out of this.

Oh, and I also need a name for their powers... Like, it's not magic, but I don't really want to type out "internal force focused with extreme concentration into an external manifestation" every time I need to refer to it, either. xD So, like, I dunno. Anyone have any ideas?