The Before - 01

Chapter One

Albert opened his eyes on the white, crumpled hospital bed. Languidly, he blinked twice at the equally white ceiling. The smell of alcohol and other hospital medicines that he had never taken time to learn about assaulted his sense of smell.

A brief realization came over him, like a rushing car that was about to run someone over. He lifted his arm, and studied it for any signs of needles that might have had pierced his skin. When he concluded within himself that he had been left by himself, on the hospital bed but without any medications, he let his arm down.

Beside his bed sat a young man with a mop of dark hair and scarred skin, who shared an eyebrow-raising resemblance to himself, except for the eyes. The man’s eyes were the color of the purest seas, the cleanest scales of a bluefish.

“Couldn’t you help it this time either?” The man, Aron, inquired sharply, leaning forward, placing his sharp elbows on Albert’s stomach purposefully. Albert coughed and twisted his torso, brushing the elbows away.

“You know what happened.” Albert replied. Aron’s eyes coiled tightly with an unreadable emotion before he stood up. The plastic chair that he’d been sitting on let out a small sound of protest.

Aron’s eyes brightened with a rush of imaginary water.

“Sometimes,” he began. “I think that you’re faking it. I think that really, you just want to die.”

“I’m not faking it.”

“You’re the only one who attempts to suicide every single time you see water.”

Albert shook his head, and sat up, ignoring how his back creaked and made popping noises. “Aron, we don’t talk about this.”

In truth, he was afraid. He was terrified of what talking about his urge would bring upon himself. What he predicted was that it would tug back the dream that had visited him every single day when he had been younger. Now, beginning on the middle of his twenties, he couldn’t afford to have the dream any more.

Glaring at him, Aron turned away. His right hand was in a tight fist. A water bottle that was placed at the foot of Albert’s bed began to shake. Albert swung his legs over the side of the bed, and felt his bare feet touch the tiled floor. He looked down upon the white hospital clothes that he was wearing.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said, looking up from the shirt. “But I promise that I will protect you as long as I can.”

“I don’t see how—”

Albert closed his eyes again, and opened his mouth, cutting off Aron.

“I’m your twin. I love you. I took up this job because I care about you.”

Even with his eyes closed, he could nearly see Aron’s face crumpling up, his mouth forming a word that he failed to say. Albert listened to the sound of Aron storming out of the room. The room’s door slammed shut behind him.

After a long moment, finally, Albert reopened his eyes. Shaking helplessly, he curled into himself and hugged his torso. With one hand, he clenched his fingers around his mouth, covering the lower half of his face. His fingernails dug into his cheeks. His eyes began to shake uncontrollably.

Still trembling, Albert lowered his hand. Immediately, his lips began to move. His eyes flashed brightly with moisture.

“The sea,” he rasped. His fingertips began to violently tap on his thigh helplessly. Two tears rolled down the side of his face.

〜

After a nurse decided that Albert was not having a panic attack, he was given his clothes and determined free to go. Not bothering to dry out the dripping wet shirt and pants, Albert whipped them on as fast as he could and left the room. Mid-step, he stopped, fingered his face for any signs of moisture, and kept on walking when he failed to find any.

Right outside the door, Jackson stopped him. Albert glanced at his long-time colleague, barely nodding. Jackson nodded back, readjusted the white, bulging paper bag he was carrying, and matched Albert’s long strides as they walked down the hospital’s hallway. His blond hair that was nearly white was bunched up inside a blue cap.

“He’s in his car, heading towards the cafe.” Jackson reported after cocking his head to the side, listening to the small headset that he was wearing. Because of Albert, Aron must have had his daily routine of working undercover in a small cafe interrupted. It was the best solution that anyone could come up with without isolating Aron from the society completely.

After taking in the information, Albert nodded slowly. He reached out a hand, and Jackson immediately placed a headset on it that was identical to his.

Albert fixed the headset onto his ear with one hand, while his eyes stared straight ahead. The wet fabric felt cold against his skin, which he could ignore. Over time of experience, he had gotten used to the familiar iciness.

Jackson gave a glance at Albert’s dripping shirt, then a second one that was longer.

“What about,” he began, but stopped when he noticed that Albert wasn’t listening, or looking at him. Instead, his eyes were fixated on a poster. Albert’s heart began to beat wildly, and his feet shifted, anxious to run. On the worn out piece of paper was a group of family, hugging and smiling in front of a picture of a beach and a glinting, blue stretch of the sea.

Slowly, Albert brought his hand up and put it tightly over his mouth.

“I need to go there,” he whispered through his fingers. His eyes slid shut. “I need to be there.”

“No, you don’t.” Jackson muttered, rummaging through the paper bag. “I’m not doing this again in one fucking day.”

“Jack, I don’t care, I need to go there.”

Jackson put one hand up in front of him, bringing out a dark sunglasses with the other. He put the sunglasses on Albert’s face, who didn’t move. Albert’s left eyesight went completely dark, while the other one darkened but wasn’t blind.

His heart slowed down into a steady routine of beats. He opened his eyes, and lowered his hand from his lips.

“You don’t need to.” Jackson repeated, as if to make sure that Albert had gotten the phrase embedded in his brain.

Nodding, Albert managed to continue walking. His fingers started to tap on his thighs, which stopped as soon as Jackson glanced at them pointedly. Albert shook his head once in order to clear it.

“I’ll catch a taxi and go to the cafe,” he began. “If you want to come with me, you can. If you don’t, wait outside.”

“Is Aron going to do something stupid?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll wait outside first.”

Albert nodded, and sped up his feet.

He knew exactly what Jackson had referred to. A week before, he had sunk down onto the bottom of the bathtub in his house and didn’t come back up. He had been nearly dead for a time before Aron pulled him out. When Albert woke up on the couch, the bathtub was in pieces, Aron was standing next to it, holding a dented metal baseball bat, and his hands were bleeding.

Some things he simply couldn’t control, yet it didn’t mean that there was no guilt. He knew that Aron wasn’t a child anymore, just like himself. The only thing that was the same from their childhood and the present was the fact that they only had each other.

“Al. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Jackson moved the paper bag to his opposite hand. “Point proven. Never mind, please.”

“Are you sure?” Albert asked half-heartedly, turning around a corner. He stepped aside to let a wheelchair pass. Shrugging, Jackson lifted his paper bag to dangle it in front of Albert’s face.

“If you’re willing to listen this time, shit, sure, I’ll spill.”

“I’m listening.”

Jackson abruptly stopped and turned sideways to face Albert. His eyes were a darker shade of blue than usual. Albert thought about the difference between his own eyes and Jackson’s. The eyes represented how powerful someone was in terms of water — at least it was how it was shown in the people around him. Jackson’s eyes were blue, and Aron’s eyes were an even brighter blue. Albert’s eyes, on the other hand, were a dark green.

Sighing as if he knew what Albert was thinking, Jackson swerved his way into a bathroom that was nearby. Albert followed cautiously, looking around for any listeners or watchers. Inside, something burst, and a man ran out, looking horrified. When Albert poked his head in, he saw that inside a stall, a toilet had exploded in a shower of yellow and brown.

“Okay, come over here real quick.” Jackson said, putting down the paper bag. After taking a last look outside the bathroom to see if the man was going to bring the security, he slid in.

Jackson took off his cap and shook his head to let his comparatively long hair fall freely. “Look at this,” he snapped, like his usual self. “This is what those headless fuckers sent us this time.”

“A blackmail from a Hu?” Albert guessed, just in time to see Jackson whip out a piece of partially scorched paper from the bag. “Blackmail,” he confirmed, taking a step forward to take a closer look.

“Let me translate,” Jackson growled, and glanced up from the paper when Albert blinked in confusion. “It’s in Chinese. Do you read Chinese?”

Albert shook his head after a moment of thinking.

“I didn’t think so, either. Listen. There’s not a whole lot of time.” Jackson muttered, already getting knee-deep into the pool of Chinese that Albert couldn’t read. “So this is basically the same stuff we get every time… Except for this part. ‘I know what your weakness is. I know how to kill you, and I will…’ and it even gives us a date to follow, except it’s burnt out.”

“It’s bluffing.”

“No, it isn’t. Don’t throw up.” With a warning that Albert failed to understand immediately, Jackson reached into the white bag again, and brought out what had made it so heavy.

The bodiless head was wrapped loosely in plastic, yet its features were still clearly visible. A woman’s dead, bloodshot eyes stared off into the distance. Her teeth were bared so hard that her dark gums had bled. Her face must have been young, although it was hard to tell with the yellow blisters that covered almost all of it. Half of her hair was torn out by force. The scalp was missing, and by the strands of blond sticking out from in-between her gritted teeth, it could be judged that the missing hair and scalp had been shoved into her mouth.

“That’s the girl who was coming onto Aron.”

“I know. This shit was nicely done and very smart.” Jackson held up the head for a moment more before placing it back into the bag. “You see, this sucker really knows who he’s dealing with.”

“Do you mean that he knows we’re twins, or he knows what Aron’s weakness is?”

“Yes, and yes. Nice job.”

Albert frowned. He knew that he was getting onto something, yet Jackson wasn’t giving it to him. He didn’t have much time. Aron must have arrived to the cafe.

“Tell me what you know, Jack.”

“He’s going to target you, alright?” Jackson brushed his hair back in an annoyed and agitated manner. “He knows that Aron cares about you, even though he’s a dickhead sometimes… Always… Doesn’t matter.”

Albert’s heart-rate stayed the same. He had gotten numerous death threats in his life. It didn’t matter if someone was aiming to kill him — it did matter if the blade was turned toward Aron.

“It’s getting late, we have to go to the cafe.” Albert responded.

“I knew that you’d say that. Go run to your brother, then.” Scoffing, Jack put the cap back on. He glanced down at the paper bag, then lifted it up. His eyes were dark again, a storm brewing inside the shell.