The Prophecy
Parting
It began four years ago, maybe even before then. Dreams came that David couldn't remember, but left him with a lost and forgotten ache. It came hand in hand with the divorce of his parents . . . the most hellish time in his life.
Four years ago, when David had been fourteen, his parents divorced. His mother left because of abuse, not only to her, but to her children. His father had been furious.
It was incredibly hard. Even after the divorce, his parents continued to have arguments, complete with threats. Arguments passed through parents and children, and everything was falling apart. David's younger brother, Weston, had to be restrained by the police a number of times because of his uncontrolled dislike toward his mother. Weston had somehow decided that everything bad because of the divorce was because of his mother. He hates everyone on his mother's side of the family, and that's just about all the family he knew, because his father's father was divorced. He only knew four people on his father's side. Weston has now been living with his father for the past three years and six months or so.
David was older than Weston, and so was his twin brother, Evan. They didn't want to be seen taking sides in this look-alike war. No matter how hard it was, they chanced the fifty/fifty living arrangements. The upside was that they had two homes, with two of everything. The downside was that they had to live with the worst of everything too.
David's mother resumed her life, and tried to get back on track and do her best. David's father tried to do the same and utterly failed. He allowed a woman of questionable quality to live with him. They had sex, with Weston a few feet away. After the woman left, the three children found Viagra, condoms, and porn site usage in the house. Never mind that David's father was in his late fifties and a police officer. He always let Weston run wild.
David and Evan's respect for their father dropped. They tried not to associate with him, which their father took in the worst way possible. No matter how they tried to explain to him, their father did not change his views in anything. Not being very eloquent people, and tired of it all, David and Evan gave up talking to him.
For the past four years, David lived in this continuous emotional hell. If Evan hadn't been there, and if Evan hadn't felt the same way, David would have broken.
Newly graduated, the two could finally escape their home on the island of Hawaii. Or, more correctly, the Big Island. But they couldn't figure out where they were going to go. And that is why they were sitting and looking at a map in their shared room at their father's house.
"How about some foreign country? We'd never see anyone we know there," David suggested to Evan, looking at his twin. "Hn, never mind. Too much money. We're better off studying abroad after a couple of years at a mainland college."
Evan rolled his eyes.
Evan was usually silent in others' presence. Only close family and friends ever heard more than a few sentences of conversation. And David was the only one who truly knew Evan, and vice versa, of course. Raised in the same environment, with the same genes, it wasn't surprising. But it is unusual. Evan and David both had the same tan Asian skin, darkened a little by the sun. Both had the same body shape and characteristics; both had a medium build, cutting it close to short. Both had brown, almond shaped eyes, and black hair that had grown past their collars and was parted in the middle. Both had small, flat noses. It was the differences that counted.
Evan was older. David was younger. Evan was left-handed. David was right. Evan wore glasses. David wore both contacts and glasses. Evan had long, sharp nails. David bit his nails to the quick. Evan's fingers were just a little longer and his skin just a bit lighter. David wore a watch while Evan didn't. But those were only the physical differences. To tell them apart, you had to know them.
The two continued pouring over the map.
Weston dropped like a bomb over their heads. "What's up, assholes?"
"Fuck off, Weston," David answered.
"No. Hey, did you guys know Dad is pressing charges against your mom's family because they were teaching us, as minors, to gamble at the Christmas party last year?" Weston leaned over their shoulders to look at the map.
"Get off. I wasn't even there, mom is your mom too, and that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You won all the money anyway, why would you want to press charges?" David shot off, still not looking at Weston.
"I don't have a mom. And — "
"You are so fucking stupid, Weston! Just stop bothering us, we don't care!"
"Fuck you, you assholes. I'm not the one pressing charges," Weston said vehemently.
"So what? Apparently, you don't care what happens to your own relatives. They still give you gifts at Christmas and your birthday, even though you piss everyone off and act like a fuckass! I don't see you telling Dad that pressing charges is a stupid idea," David said, looking up at Weston.
"It's not like I asked them to give me anything," he said sullenly.
"You are a fucking idiot bastard, Weston. They're family! Unless you die, no one's going to forget you. You don't even give anything to any of your own family! You gave us a dollar for our birthday three months after it passed! Fuck you!" David glared.
"No, fuck you," Weston snarled, his face twisting, and spit squarely on David's face.
Silence reigned for a minute. David swallowed and clenched his fists and teeth, trying not to show anything on his face. Weston stared at him, challenging. Evan tensed, and watched. The silence was broken after three minutes, when David stood, pushed in his chair, and walked out of the room in stiff strides.
"That's right, you pussy," Weston smirked after him, relieved that nothing had happened to him.
Evan stood suddenly, knocking his chair over. Taller than Weston by five inches as he looked down, he grabbled and dug his long nails into Weston's upper arm, staring intensely at Weston's face. Weston pawed at Evan's hand when the pain hit, and choked as an invisible force blocked his throat, cutting off his air. Blood ran down Weston's arm. Thirty seconds later, Evan let go and followed David as Weston collapsed to the floor, coughing and clutching his bloodied arm.
David scrubbed the soap into his face vigorously. He paused as he heard someone step into the bathroom and lock the door. Odd, I'm pretty sure I locked it, he thought. He continued washing his face.
"I hate Weston, don't you?" David asked the person sitting on the counter.
"Of course," Evan promptly answered. David could hear him walking over to the bathtub and turning on the water.
"And Mom and Dad too, right?"
"Well, duh."
"This sucks." David finished drying his face and looked at his brother from the mirror over the sink. "Like it always does." He scowled fiercely at himself in the mirror. He turned to Evan.
"I've been having these dreams. . . I think you were in them, but I can never remember them," he said, raising an eyebrow.
Evan shrugged. "I don't know. But. . ." He looked at his hands. "I think I have some kind of power. Watch." Evan picked up a toothbrush. He held it with his palm face up, and it began to rise. His eyes were narrowed in concentration.
David snatched the toothbrush out of the air. "Not fair!" He looked at Evan with a grin. "How come you get superpowers and I don't?"
"DAVID AND EVAN! GET OVER HERE!"
"What did we do?" David looked questioningly at Evan.
Evan grimaced. "Sorry. Beat up on Weston a little."
"Crap, let's go."
David and Evan strolled into the living room where their father stood, face livid. Weston stood behind him, sulky.
"What?" David snapped, eyeing Weston.
"Evan, did you scratch your brother?"
"Well, yeah, if you call that scratching."
"Damnit, what have I told you about fighting?!"
"You know, I wouldn't be talking, Dad," David put in. "You fight a lot too."
"Don't talk back to me."
"Shut up, Dad. You know you're the parent, but you're not setting a good example. Look at our lives. They're shit. You call that good parenting?!! We've had this discussion before, but you haven't listened to us. You never listen!" David was shouting by the end of it.
His father gave a laugh. "Well — "
"Don't laugh! I can't stand it anymore! Thank god we're leaving or I would have to kill someone!"
"Leave, then! Get out!" David found himself grabbed by the collar and dragged towards the door.
He struggled, kicking. "Let." He twisted out of his shirt. "Go."
His father yanked him by the hair and started dragging again. "Agh! Evan!"
Their father crashed into the wall. A kitchen cleaver flew straight through the air to hit the wall on the right of his head. Weston looked on, wide eyed. Evan grabbed the spare gun his father had as it floated next to him. David was straightening himself up.
"Dad. Let us pack. We'll be gone," Evan said, dark eyes calm and rational.
Packed, David and Evan looked at their brother and father still in the living room. Evan put the gun down on the table. "Oh, yes. One last thing." He waved his hand, and every fork and knife from the kitchen embedded itself into the wall, spelling out "Fuck you. Love, David and Evan". "Don't forget us." Evan waved and walked out the door.
"Bye." David gave a smile to Weston, and followed Evan to something better.
TBC