Page 15 of Psycho Gods

I wasn’t worried.

Unlike my more socially aware twin, I didn’t care about the events that unfolded around me.

I couldn’t even pretend to give a shit.

All my energy was captured by the two people walking in front of me, and my skin crawled with worry that they were mentally struggling.

It had always been that way for me. My codependency issues were so strong that they manifested into physical pain.

John stumbled, and I lunged forward to steady him. Aran’s lips curled up into a small smile as he exhaled with gratitude.

Pine trees swayed on Planet 003FX as I held on to Aran and John, gripping my twin’s hand tightly.

Wide shoulders radiated strength as my brother looked down protectively at Aran leaning against us, blue curls wild.

She was ours to shield.

My discomfort abated slightly, but it didn’t disappear.

It never would.

Years ago, an oracle had confirmed it.

I clutched my twin’s hand while the oracle of Delphi danced around us. She spread her arms wide, brown hair flowing to her toes, as she inhaled the fumes of the ancients.

“You are crippled with codependency,” the oracle sang as she twirled mindlessly. Misty eyes widened, and her lips pulled into a smile. “The lost princes have returned to the king, but they are no longer whole. Neither is the other. They will suffer unbelievable agony on behalf of the other, and all of them will be partial together.”

The oracle cackled madly, and John trembled with fear. I stood in front of him, spread my short limbs wide as I prepared to do anything to protect him.

In the present, I smiled down at my wide-shouldered reflection as we walked among the trees.

Snow dusted John’s cheeks.

He might have grown into a formidable man with whipcord strength and a mischievous glint in his eyes, but he’d always be my younger twin. The boy I needed to protect.

The compulsion that lived within my skin ensured it.

Trauma had changed me.

Twisted me into something unrecognizable to others.

As we had grown up in the human realm, the foster parents had beaten both of us regularly, but John had had it worse because he’d had less control of his darkness.

One day, he accidentally dropped a glass, and it shattered on the linoleum kitchen floor. I tried to pick up the pieces, but it was too late. The foster father lunged toward John, and darkness flooded from his pores defensively.

He recoiled, called him a demon, demanded an exorcism, and shouted about a false god.

It all happened so quickly.

Everything blurred as a baseball bat broke our bones, and we were shoved into a car and brought to a cliff.

I gaped in stunned horror as he threw John over the edge.

I went into shock, and darkness exploded from me in a wave. The foster man disappeared, but I was too late.

Stumbling out of the car, I sobbed on my knees as devastation flatlined my existence.

I threw myself forward off the cliff to join John.

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