Time was passing slowly inside my cell. With nothing to distract me from my impending doom I had taken up lying flat on my back, eyes closed and hands clasped over my chest, thinking.

As former chief of security I knew more about the prison than anyone else. Knowledge I had acquired during my first months in my new position, when I had still been under the wrongful impression that my father actually cared about how I did my job.

The room was windowless and quadratic, ten square meters. It was equipped with the bed I rested on and a sink. The walls were concrete and bare. What was interesting and not known to the average prisoner was the air vent that, conveniantly, was obscured by the headboard. Back then when I had first familiarized myself with the way prisoners were kept, I had wondered why the cells contained rather bedlike pallets with high headboards. Then I had found out the reason.

Air vents were accessible if you knew about them and were skinny enough. The first wasn’t a problem and the second, with my stomach only slightly swollen yet, shouldn’t be either.

What truly presented a challenge was the security camera that transmitted my every move to where Lyle was probably biting his nails not to grab a shotgun and take my miserable life.

He would possibly take that opportunity to intervene and give me a good beating- the bastard. So instead of trying to open the vent I remained on my back, concentrating on my breathing.

I pictured the other end of the camera inside my head, my knowledge of the surveillance system being eternally helpful in establishing the connection. Faintly, as if seen through a layer of fog, the screen began to show and I could make out a figure lying on a bed- me. I wasn’t used to using my sense, so I felt a stabbing headache built at the base of my skull and I winced, losing the picture almost entirely. The baby moved and distracted me for a moment. I reached down to calm it and sighed inwardly.

I wasn’t very good at this and I didn’t know whether I would have enough time to practice.

Once again I tried to relax, to work myself into a state that allowed my mind to open itself. Besides all the difficulties I experienced, it was amazing how naturally it came. As if I’d done it before.

“What do you see?”

In my mind I could watch myself suddenly jerk upright on the bed, then the image dissolved in front of my eyes as I opened them. My breath came in short intervals, my fingers flew up to my temples to massage the burning pain away. There had been something else underlaying the picture of the security screen I had concentrated on. Another faint image, lingering underneath the one I’d seen.

And it had scared me.

Centre Surveillance System - DSA

“What have you done?” Catherine Parker’s voice is strained to breaking point and tears are brimming in her eyes as she confronts Raines in his office.

“I helped your husband to glory,” he replies, a weird little smile tugging at his lips. “That nice little summer house of yours, the expensive school you send your little girl to… it wouldn’t be without my work for the Centre.”

“How dare you!” Catherine Parker hisses, despise showing on her face.

“How dare I take it upon me to help this tiny little outpost of a major corporation become a big player?” Raines mocks her. “Our success stands and falls with the Pretender project.”

“That’s what you call him? The Pretender project? He is a little boy and his name is Jarod!”

A sneer forms on Raines’ face. In contrary to his smile it actually reaches his eyes and turns them into glowing embers.

“Touching,” he whispers menancingly. “But there is really nothing you can do, is there, Catherine?

Catherine’s eyes fill with tears.

“Don’t be too sure!”

Jarod

Not quite sure what to do about Thomas Gates, I had decided to tie him up on the backseat and tell him to shut up. Maybe he would be useful later on, maybe I would realize that it had been a stupid idea to take him along. I didn’t care.

Parker was far more important right now.

My foot firmly on the accelerator, I tried to come up with some possibility of it somehow being my fault. I shouldn’t have let her go on her own, but then Broots had been with her… maybe I shouldn’t have let her meet Gates in the first place, but then she would have gone anyway…

I swallowed. Focus. Focus on what has to be done.

Hell, I would tear the whole damn building apart if it was necessary. A new surge of energy, newly based on determined rage launched me into kicking the mph even higher.

Looking back, I always wondered whether I should be more shocked or less shocked than I had initially been upon seeing Catherine Parker that misty morning. Back then, years ago, I had looked into her eyes and seen a coldness there that had been absolutely new to me. Never before had I seen her face look that hard, her jaw set so tightly. The image had imprinted itself into my mind and managed to jolt my stomach everytime I conjured it up from the depths of my memory.

But nowadays that stare was all too familiar. I knew these eyes to burn like fire, to seem to pierce through people’s skin. Only that they hadn’t looked from Catherine’s face, but from that of her daughter. Given their extraordinary close resemblance, it always seemed like a deja-vu.

“I need to talk to you, Sydney.”

Her voice had betrayed the angry determination in her face and I had almost been relieved to hear that under that dangerous scowl still remained gentle, loving Catherine Parker.

She had sat down, little Miss Parker in her lap, leaning against her chest and grabbing for the long necklace Catherine was wearing. She had been too young then to understand anything of what we were saying. Barely able to sit in her mother’s lap and curiously eyeing the environment of my office, Miss Parker had remained oblivious to the horrors her mother had told me about.

“Sydney. I’ve always had a good bit of intuition and although it has obviously abandoned me when I married little Michelle’s father, it has usually served me well. Only when I was pregnant with Mischa, I began to have strange episodes. At first it wasn’t something I paid much attention to. It were just little things, like knowing that my husband stood in front of the door without him having made a sound, or knowing who was on the phone before I’d picked it up, but then it became weird. I knew I would have twins before my doctor did. And I began to have… visions. It sounds incredibly stupid, but after I had trained myself a little, I could conjur them up instead of them hitting me randomly. I would think of something and there would be an image in my mind, names, places… It was downright scary.”

I had looked at her, my breath shallow, afraid of what was to come.

“I told my husband one evening and although he waved it aside, he obviously informed William Raines who approached me the next day. He made me believe hypnosis would help me explore the reason for my new talent. He said he’d read some research on things like that happening and I… I went along with it. I was so stupid, Sydney. I was just so curious… I don’t remember well what I have seen. I am convinced now that it wasn’t just hypnosis. He must have injected me with some kind of drug…” She looked down upon the little girl in her lap, whose eyes were drooping right now, ready to fall asleep. “I am just so relieved that they didn’t hurt Mischa. Maybe they hurt my little boy. I don’t know…” There had been the usual edge in her voice that was always there when she talked about her dead son.

“Anyway…” She’d visibly pulled herself together, desperate to get the story off her conscious. “I must have told him something… I just can’t remember what that was… I think… I think it had to do with the Pretender project…” She sighed.

“I feel so guilty Sydney. Since I have given birth my sense has left me. I guess I only had that special ability when I was pregnant. But what I can still tell is that Raines’ has exploited it to do something truly evil. I just can’t say what.”

All I had been able to do was take her hand and comfort her, but the guilt had never left her.

I wondered why I hadn’t remembered that fateful day earlier. Now that they had Parker, it had suddenly returned to me and although I knew they would keep her alive, I was terribly worried.

What was worse that I felt so guilty. I had been the only one who would have been able to see through Raines’ evil sheme. Why had I instead chosen to abandon my protegee? Catherine would have never forgiven me for exposing her daughter to this danger although I should have known better.

Catherine hadn’t been able to live with the guilt, had tried to rescue Jarod and thus fallen from grace with the Centre management. It had ultimately been the death of her and I owed it to her to at least save her daughter.

If only I knew how.

I had not realized that I had fallen asleep. I just remembered the headache blurring my sight, darkness descending upon me, different images making my stomach turn as they came flying at me.

Now I was startled awake by the sound of the door. Still groggily blinking against the light, I found myself firmly pushed into the matrace by a male hand that was quickly and efficiently placed on my chest. For a moment I was disorientated and even forgot to squirm. My slow reaction was what it took to completely pin me down.

I was not surprised to be faced with my brother.

“Hello, Michelle.” The throaty whisper differed so much from his usual pointed calling me ‘Sis’ that it sent a shiver down my spine. The usage of my first name had always foreshadowed sinister things. That was the reason I didn’t like to be called by it, why it pained me to hear it, why I angrily brushed it aside whenever it left someone’s lips.

This time was no exception.

“I took the liberty to disable the surveillance system,” he said nonchalantly, still easily holding me on my back. I dared not move, fearing the mad light that flickered in his eyes like a torchlight moving behind a black window.

“I’ve always liked black on you.” His voice was light and conversational, as if he was on a date, complimenting his companion in a slightly superficial way. Given my inferior position and our being completely alone and unobserved, I felt panic rise inside me.

He brushed my left cheek with his right forefinger, tracing the line of my cheekbone back to my throat. His fingertips moved into the hollow beneath my chin and I stiffened as I was sure his fingers would tighten around my neck anytime soon. Instead he removed his hand and gave me the most gruesome of smiles.

“I never realized I wanted you down and helpless like this,” he said with a note of amusement creeping inside his voice. My headache kept me from truly receiving any of his emotions but what remained clear was that I was not dealing with insanity. He was cold, collected and knew very well what he was doing. A terrible mixture.

“I’ve always been quite amused with the way you fought me. Even found it quite sexy, you know, Mischa.”

Finally the paralyzing fear was replaced with anger. How dared he call me my mother’s nickname for me? How did he even know?

“I never felt too guilty for my desire for you even though we are twins,” he said. “It would be sick if we’d grown up together, but like this…”

I could see in his eyes that he actually believed his own words, that he meant what he said and I shuddered.

My sister shuddered which I took as a sign of pleasure. She might feel somehow connected to Jarod, but deep down she had to have at least once, when she hadn’t known about our being twins, desired me.

Her pale skin was a nice contrast to her dark hair and black clothes and I was longing to press my lips upon her burgundy ones.

“You are so beautiful.” I said, matter of factly, but it came out as a husky whisper. Her eyes widened and her hand came up. I was about to catch it so she wouldn’t try to hurt me, but then allowed her to place it upon my upper arm as she had originally intended.

She pulled her leg up slightly as if in pleasure and I bent down in order to finally kiss her and run my hand along her perfectly shaped silhouette. She had all the graceful slenderness that I had always admired about Asian women, coupled with her considerable hight, which I loved.

She made no move to stop me as I descended my lips upon hers, but then, with our faces only inches apart she slightly cocked her head and gave me a smile that was, in fact, very sweet.

“Lyle,” she breathed and sounded the perfect mix between dreamy and seductive. Her voice was very low and only for a second I losened my grip on her. Her leg shot up the same moment that her fingernails dug into my shoulder. She threw me off her with such force that I momentarily lost balance.

“You sick bastard!” she growled. “Take your dirty hands off me!”

She was on her legs before I had caught my balance and shoved me against the wall.

“How dare you! How dare you!” she yelled, pressing her lower arm into my throat, cutting off my circulation for the moment. Unable to speak I could only open and close my mouth, trying to throw her back.

How embarassing, I thought, as she sent a blow against my head that made me stagger. Being beat up by my pregnant sister…

“If you think that I’d ever as much as consider you as a lover, you must be freaking mad!” Her voice was growing louder but was well below being able to be heard by the guards whom, with quite a different scenario in mind, I had sent away before.

For the first time I regretted my decision to disable surveillance.

“I would say that I was sorry, but I was taught not to tell lies.”

And then she hit me so hard that everything went black around me.

The satisfaction I felt about Lyle’s crumbling to the floor lasted only momentarily. I knew that my ordeal was far from over. For a moment I sat down on the bed, one hand on my stomach, rubbing it to calm my baby.

“I’m sorry, love.” I told her. “I’m just trying to get us out of here alive.”

After I had calmed down I got up again and started pulling the sheets off the bed to tie my brother up. How came my family was so incredibly twisted that my own brother was trying to get into my pants? I wanted to throw up.

I shuddered at the thought, wishing nothing than to be out of here and not to have to return to this godforsaken place ever again.

When I had finished tieing my brother up like a package, I pulled the bed away from the wall and was relieved to actually find the air-vent where it was supposed to be. Kicking the grate with all the strength I had left, I sank back onto the floor, gasping for air. It had been some time since I had attended the Centre’s compulsory martial arts courses. However, my lack in training still left my skills. A few more well aimed kicks and the old metal crumbled away.

I gave a snort of hysterical laughter as I remembered suggesting to renew said vents due to their being quite old and having been turned down by some mindless Centre accountant with an overeager calculator. Life was funny, sometimes. I crawled in and, for gaining a few minutes, pulled at the bed until it was reasonably close to its former position.

I began to crawl along the dimly lit duct. Then, a few meters on, I suddenly stopped in my tracks feeling the pain spread through my stomach making me whimper, then groan.

Suddenly the headache seemed to fade into the background, as the other pain made my head spin along with the sudden fear for my baby.

I crawled on, then felt my strength leave me and lay down on the hard metal floor, praying for my luck not to leave me right now.

I didn’t feel pleasure at the sight of an unconscious, tied up Lyle. I rather felt panic at the absence of his sister.

Whirling around I could see no trace of her. Had the Pretender rescued her? Goddamn Sydney? Whoever? I didn’t care who had done the deed with the only thing I knew was that I had just lost my last chance at reestablishing the Centre. The Triumvirate wouldn’t take anymore excuses, had seen through the faked reports a long time ago. They had complained about our strained relations to the mafia, had expressed their disbelief at how we didn’t manage to return a lone man to the Centre, hadn’t listened to me. To them, the Centre was a corporation, a money making machine, not the life it was to me.

That moment, when I stood in the cell, next to yet another member of the hated Parker clan, I resigned.

Gone were the aches, the nervous trembling of my hands that I had tried to hide from everyone. My sole wish was what had been denied for me in months: A few hours of sleep, or, rather, endless sleep.

Eternal sleep.

We all have emergency plans and I was no different. The Centre was my life and I would go down with this ship. Meaning I would go up in flames with it.

And everyone else, too.

I turned around and listened to the hated sound of the wheels of the oxygen tank. I walked towards the door, then let my eyes sweep over the cheerless room one last time. If this was where we would die, so be it.

I was once again startled into wakefulness by a shock. The smell of fire, the ear-shattering sound of an explosion and a horrible scream, like the uproar of a dying animal, hit me all at once as I scrambled to my hands and knees.

My stomach still hurt, but it faded into the background of my mind as the outcries of desperation and pain reached it. It was so wide open for the suffering of whomever was dying in the explosion behind the vent, that I couldn’t stand it but started to sob, frantically crawling away from its source.

I needed to keep a clear mind, but I just couldn’t. The smoke invaded my nostrils and obscured my sight. I started to cough, then fought for air but did only inhale smoke. Tears were pouring down my face and the panic began to take over me.

Oh please don’t let me die here, god. I prayed. I have practically done everything wrong in my life. I have never been a good person, but please don’t let me die here today with the only good thing I have ever accomplished in my life.

My hand brushed my stomach where my sweaty t-shirt clung to the skin. A mere minute later I couldn’t do it anymore, my hands couldn’t stand the hot metal underneath, the smoke became black and I felt myself sink to the ground once again.