Page 126 of Creeping Beautiful

Adam had a twin, and he died.

I had a twin and his name was Carter.

Of course, most of them die early—before thirty, for sure. James Fenici, Adam, and myself are the only exceptions to that rule. But often in their teens. They take a hit, or they go insane, or they are killed when they show sociopathic tendencies too early.

Carter and I were ten when they separated us.

Right after the Santa Barbara massacre.

It was too early.

They should have known better.

They should’ve learned from their mistake with James and Vincent.

I didn’t really join this little team to keep Indie sane. Oh, that was part of it. Because I needed her. I needed the secrets locked inside her head. I did like her. In fact, I liked her immediately. Indie was a cool child. She was tough, and smart, and she had this very special memory that would lock things up in deep dark places and hold them tight like a vault until someone came along with the key, opened her up, and asked just the right questions, in just the right way, so they could spill out.

He did that to her. Carter. He did that. I know he did. I would recognize his handiwork anywhere because we learned how to do it together. We trained in PSYOPS together as children. And Carter was much better at it than I was.

But they took him from me. The stole him from me.

And for a while I thought he was dead. One of us had to die, right? Eventually?

But then Indie came along and I started to poke around in her mind. This was how I spent my time on the island. Those girls were like little quizzes for me. Little tests.

I would be their friend. Their ally. I would bring them special treats. Little cakes and sweet juices. I would let them cry, and whine about how unfair life is, and complain about anything they wanted. I would listen and then I would lie to them as I picked apart their minds for practice and told them it was all going to be OK.

Until Indie came along and I found that secret place inside her head. And I recognized it for what it was.

Carter’s work.

That’s why I needed Adam to buy her. That’s why I joined his team.

But I did not have the key to unlock that vault inside Indie’s head. She never told me a single fuckin’ secret. I figured that out fairly early. By the time she was fourteen for sure. I knew there was no way I’d get the information I was looking for and then the Company fell and Carter never made contact with me, so… I dunno.

I just let it go, I guess. Moved on. Accepted the inevitable truth that my brother really was gone.

I had not seen a single sign that he didn’t die the night my grandfather lost his mind and ripped us apart—but even if he was alive, our work together was over.

The Negative Program was over.

Everyone in my family was a doctor, every boy for as long back as the Founding, was a doctor. Every single one of us followed the same path.

PSYOPS

But it wasn’t just PSYOPS.

It was surgery too. Mind and body. That’s the goal for the genius boys bred into the Couture family.

Carter and I are identical in every way. Right down to the wiring in our genius brains. We started manipulating people before we could talk. And we had this kind of “twin language” with our hands, and our eyes, and our body movements.

We were fluent in three languages by the time we were five. We learned how to control subjects under the PSYOPS drugs by the time we were seven. He took over his first mind when he was eight and a half. He did this like it was his God-given gift. Like his only purpose on this planet was to fuck up the minds of others.

He scared people the way Indie scares people. And my grandfather decided to end it after Santa Barbara.

He blamed Carter for that mess. I’m not even sure why. We were ten, for fuck’s sake. If Carter was in on it, he didn’t tell me.

Maybe that’s why I’m still alive?