Chapter Text
When Jesús and his sister were children, they would tell anyone who would listen about their ‘special talent’.
Their mother laughed it off as the imaginings of a child’s mind, like an imaginary friend or a game of pretend, and never paid it any mind. When the pair stopped bringing it up at dinner, she assumed it had vanished with age as she thought it would. It was a funny little thing, something to laugh at later in life.
When the memory of it surfaced now, however, it wasn’t really that funny.
The ‘special talent’, you see, was that the Rodriguez twins believed they could hear each other’s thoughts. They never once professed to being able to read all minds, simply each other’s. They would sit silent across the room, saying nothing aloud, only to burst into simultaneous laughter and tell their questioning parents that a joke had been silently shared…. and no they wouldn’t repeat it.
In truth, as an adult Jesús was not convinced of any supernatural abilities and shared his mothers assumption. Now, as he sat in the quiet living room of his childhood home, he wished for nothing more than the fantasy to have been true.
He sat on the couch, his blanket draped over his slumped shoulders, and his eyes wandered the patterns in the ceiling.
It had been about a week since Jesús had last heard from his sister, and he knew he shouldn’t be as worried as he was. She was an adult, busy with classes and a social life he didn’t share, and she had gone off on her own for longer. A week was nothing compared to the ski trip she took with a group of friends, or the month she didn’t call home. Medical school wasn’t an easy obstacle on the horizon.
But this…. this felt different.
This felt dangerous.
It was as if a sinkhole has opened up in his stomach and his guts were bathing in worry. When he closed his eyes, he could see her soft, round face frozen in an agonized expression. Sometimes the image was blurry in his mind's eye,, just a blur of dark eyes and corpse-pale skin, while other times he could almost feel the ragged tear in her throat and the drying blood on her chest.
His hands shook against his will.
His temples throbbed something horrid, like a bruise was forming under against the bony plates of his skull.
She didn’t answer any of his calls. She didn’t respond to a single text.
Jesús was certain his twin sister was dead, or worse.
The most painful part of it was it seemed only he was concerned enough to dwell on her wellbeing.
“She’s a good girl, she’s alright.” Their mother had hummed with a smile when he brought it up to her.
“The two of you have always been good smart kids, and she has big dreams. If she needs our help she’ll ask, mijo.” The shine of worry was clear on her eyes, but Maria Elena couldn’t allow herself to think my differently. After the loss of her husband and a sharp decline in her health, things had to be ok. She couldn’t afford for them not to be.
Jesús pulled himself from the couch, letting his blanket drag behind him until it came sliding free. The linoleum tiles of the kitchen floor were freezing beneath his bare feet, and he could feel his teeth knocking together as he made his way to the refrigerator.
The orange juice carton had only brushed his lips when a sharp pain shot through his temples, lingering as an ache in his sinuses and behind his eyes.
“F-fuck…”
For a long moment nothing happened, nothing worsened and nothing lessened.
He blinked, the tingling sensation behind his eyes suddenly becoming overwhelming.
And in an instant it felt like he wasn’t in it his mother’s kitchen.
The air smelled of smoke and old trash, and he clutched at his head while trying to discern the spinning world round him. A dark alley, the shimmer of blood on the pavement….
Blink… the sound of low chatter and neon lights…
Blink...mildew and the creaking of an old theater stage…
“What the hell is happening, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING!” His sister’s voice came from his lips when he felt them move of their own accord.
Blink… the night sky above, the sound of a bell tinkling as a shop door swung open, hands on his shoulders as a low voice murmurs in his ears. It’s scared, but warm and comforting.
Blink… a sharp pain in his stomach, like hunger.
It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before,though, and oh god it hurts.
He pulls his eyes closed and pushes back against the feeling of cold water on his skin and something red hot and metallic on his tongue.
Blink…
And then it’s over.
His eyes flew open, and he could barely breathe hunched over half kneeling in the middle of the kitchen. He could taste bile and smell vomit, and hear his mother’s voice down the hall. “Mijo, are you ok?”
He doesn’t respond out of fear since he might hurl again.
Maria Elena was at her son’s side as fast as her bowed legs could carry her. Her hand was simply pushed away when she extended it to help him to hi feet.
“I’m ok, I’m ok mamá” His furrowed eyebrows clearly read “no I most certainly did not puke all over the floor, and no I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“What happened?” She asked, slowly as if she was afraid she might trip over her words.
For a moment he weighed his options, and settled on giving her a soft smile. “Just a got dizzy and nauseous for a second there. Must’ve…”
“Eaten something that turned your stomach?”
“Yeah...yeah. I’m sure that’s it.”
In truth, he wanted nothing more than to believe that what he knew to be true was just another child’s daydream.
As he smiled and let his mother dote on him, he also couldn’t allow himself to think that this wasn’t the beginning of something...something he didn’t yet understand.
(To be continued...)