The Broken Crystal

Chapter Eleven

"I thought you were dead."

Cold cement filled every bone in Nate's body.  The words didn't register in his brain, at least not in the right way.

Dead thought were you I.

Wrong.

I thought were dead you.

Wrong.

I thought you were dead.

Nate blinked, the words sticking to him like a label, polluting his breath and poisoning his mind. They didn't make any sense, but still, they bothered him.

He looked up, his gaze landing on the girl that had just spoken. The brown hair, the blue eyes, the pale skin, the sunken cheeks, were nothing he recognized. She wasn't from the camp, which meant it had to be Crystal, the one Haven had told him about. The one who escaped.

A picture of the institution was the first of the many bombs that fell onto his head. Then came the attack - boom! - Luke Roosevelt - boom! - sirens - boom! - the elevator - boom! - the lab and Igor who, ignoring his warnings, disappeared behind its door and never returned.

The bombs exploded,

one after another...

shattering his head,

...after another...

ripping his brain apart,

...after another,

setting his soul on fire,

until

there

was

nothing

left.

"It wasn't me you saw," Nate whispered, his words nearly lost in the roaring silence that overswept the camp.

Almost impulsively, Crystal shook her head. Shutting out everybody's stares, everybody's frames and features, she concentrated on Nate. His eyes were dark, like Haven's, but they shone in a different way. They looked... sad. His whole demeanor seemed to be in constant darkness. Or maybe it was just his attire that stood out to her. His hair was brown and wavy, cut just above the shoulders.

After a closer look Crystal realized Nate had to be about as old as Ethan, and as athletic as him, too, with muscles clearly visible through his gray shirt, and strong arms; the same arms that had helped her that day in the institution. It was him. No doubt, no questions needed. It was him and it was a fact.

So, looking around, Crystal waited for someone's voice to raise and confirm she was right. But that was not what happened.

"You saw my brother," Nate murmured to the grass and to the wind and to everyone but her. "My twin."

Oh.

Crystal's hands raised and she held them close to her chest, her mouth agape.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I- I didn't know."

Nate looked up, at the girl who's pitiful eyes bore a hole into his already damaged soul and the crowd that catched onto his every movement, every breath, every word.

He clenched his fists, then frowned. Igor's palms wouldn't be as sweaty.

"Um..."

What would his brother's next words be? It's okay.