Page 55 of Descent

Ciro is next to me suddenly, wearing one of the oxygen masks that drops down in turbulence.“One of these days you may actually have to start trying to fix your brain. Figure your life out?—”

“I have a life. For now.”

My brother sighs, pacing the aisle, wearing a flight attendant’s outfit. Why does my brain do that? Like it knows exactly the kind of nonsense he would pull in real life.

“Look, you don’t wanna talk, fine. Least you can do is listen and let me talk.”

“Like you’ve ever asked for permission.”

“That sounds astoundingly like knowledge. Like firsthand knowledge of me. Experience.”

He’s right. Because it has to be in there somewhere, right? These fragments of my twin, traces of his real personality and our relationship. Constantly appearing to give me shit.

Maybe my brain is trying to tell me something.

My eyes narrow slightly. I ease off trying to force thoughts of him away, avoiding the issues like I always do. Ciro scoffs, giving me a fascinated expression.

“Huh. That’s new.”He’s instantly leaning over the small table between the two seats on my side of the private jet.“I know you don’t remember growing up. Your brain is like a paper shredder full of cold cuts.”

“Nice analogy,” I snap.

“See? You were always likethis. Swift with a comeback to whatever I said. You were also a fucking mannequin. You rarely emoted. Never smiled. Honestly, we all thought you were a sociopath…Actually, I still think you’re a sociopath.”

I glare needles at him, ignoring the jab. “Who iswe all?”

“Hmm…interested, finally? Our brothers. Me. Uncle.”

I almost hear their names, see their faces. Hear their voices, busting my chops for being so stoic.

All except …

“Except for Aunt Eva,”her name rings a note of pure heartache in my mind, warping into a sharper picture,“She always saw something in you, was careful to reward you whenever you showed kindness, empathy.”

“Maybe she was just worried I was broken.”

“Maybe you were.”

“Then what’s changed?” I lean forward, lowering my voice and opening my hands.

“Everything, man. Maybe things don’t have to be that way. You got a clean slate, brother. A fresh start.”

“So you’re saying my missing life is…a blessing?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

I swallow, letting his words sink in. But it feels like a trap. Another pitfall for me to get caught in. Baited with hope.

“Hope is just poison, Ciro,” I shrug, leaning back again, dismissing him willfully with a hard blink and a sigh.

Thoughts of our current destination gnaw at the edges of my resolve. Uncertainty and a sickening sensation of worry inmy stomach have plagued me since Ananke announced that we would be flying to Marrakesh.

Even saying the wordMoroccobrings scents and feelings to mind. Shadows and creatures scurrying through the darkness of my head that whisper of horrible things. Things I did there.

So I block it out. Again.

I try to sleep. I must doze off because I’m jerked awake when the plane rattles, descending rapidly through turbulence. An announcement clicks on a second later.

“We will be arriving at the private airfield in a few moments. Fasten your seatbelts and prepare for landing. Your baggage will be waiting outside when we arrive.”

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