Now the land of Nos was under attack. A foreign power had invaded, laid siege to the stars and tore apart the sacred bonds of Two.
In the face of such war machines, the human spirit can only take so much before it breaks.
Or adapts.
Survival depends on resiliency while escape relies on common sense.
You’re the only one around here with a lick of common sense, Analisa said to one of her twin sons.
Common must become extraordinary to survive what cannot be understood.
Geno was still common and still trying to understand when Anthony was on him for the second time.
Or maybe the third.
With so many men, and so many times, it was hard to keep track.
He was so tired. He wobbled and flopped when Anthony yanked him up on his knees. Geno’s arms stretched out long, slack and weak, no longer able to pull against the cuffs. He had no fight left in him. His leg muscles ached and buckled and he slumped this way and that.
Anthony held the deadweight easily, pulling Geno back against him. He was so strong. So much better at this game.
“Well, look what we got here,” he said. His arm curved around Geno’s waist. “Someone’s enjoying this.”
Geno made a noise like “Nuh.” Garbled and unintelligible, like his tongue was too big.
“Sure you are,” Anthony said, laughing, his breath warm on Geno’s shoulder. “Can’t have one twin be gay without the other.”
“Nuh…”
“Just give into it. It’s okay to want it. I can feel how bad you want it.”
As his penis stiffened into Anthony’s grip, Geno started crying.
“It’s okay, baby. Don’t feel bad. Say you want it.”
“Nuh.”
“Say it.” Anthony’s voice grew harder. He had one hand wrapped around Geno’s erection while the other slid into Geno’s hair. “Say it, baby boy.”
Geno yelped like a frightened puppy as his head was yanked back.
“Say it or I won’t stop until you’re dead. Say it or you’ll never get out of here alive.”
“Nuh.”
“You’ll say it and then you’re going to come in my hand, baby boy. Understand? You’ll say it and then you’ll show it.”
“Nuh.”
“Oh yeah, you will. They all do for me. All my baby boys are loyal to me. Including your brother. He brought you here. I said I wanted you and he brought you to me. I had to wait until Daddy was away until I could get my present.”
Geno moaned like one who wished he were dead.
“Now show me what a good boy you are. Say you want it.” His hand fisted tighter in Geno’s hair. “Say it.”
“I…”
“Say it, you little bitch. Before I fuck you in two.”
“I…wan it.”
“Say it.”
“I wan it,” Geno said, sobbing.
“Yeah,” Anthony said. “You do. You want it so bad. You’re a whore just like your brother. Say you like it.”
Geno said it.
“Now say you love me, baby boy.”
Geno said that, too.
“Tell me to fuck you.”
Geno said it all. He said anything. He said everything Anthony told him to say. He let his mouth go on without him.
When Anthony told him to come, he let his body go on without him, and he came.
When he came, he became extraordinary.
When Anthony scooped up semen and rubbed it on Geno’s face, the last tattered shreds of his mind looked around and became aware of the impossibility of the situation.
Tasting himself, he stopped trying to understand.
He started trying to escape.
This is not happening to me.
It’s happening to someone else.
Anthony was done. He won the game again. He pulled out and left, the door clicking shut, leaving Geno alone. Carlos was gone. The other twin bed was empty, a single cuff still clasped to the head rail.
Lying face down in the soiled sheets, Geno kept plotting his escape.
Go away. Go away from this place. This thing happening will not stop happening so you must leave it.
It must happen to someone else. Not you.
I am not here. I am not me. This is all happening to someone else.
The room had a single transom window, high in the wall. If Geno tilted his wrist, he could see it reflected in the shiny surface of the handcuff. It was dark outside. He couldn’t see the stars, but he caught a slice of the moon, a metallic crescent marred by the small keyhole.
The portal.
The door.
Geno made himself small.
He crawled through the keyhole, into the moon and toward the stars.
He went into Nos. The shared place of Two.
Mos faced Los and declared, You are not welcome here. Not anymore. You are dead to me.
Like a conqueror, Mos planted his flag in what had been his brother’s part of the land.
I am Mos. The one with sense.
From this mirror-reflection vantage point, he looked over at his bodily self, cuffed in the twin bed. He observed neutrally and felt nothing. He had nothing to feel. It wasn’t happening to him.
The new universe and its rules swayed on wobbly legs, confused who was who and uncertain this was going to work.
This is how it is, Mos said firmly. I am Mos. I only watch the things that happen to Geno. This is my job as ruler of Nos.
Mos was tired. Such secrets were exhausting to carry. It was good to finally rest. He drifted in and out of consciousness, always waking on the other side of Nos, where nothing felt.
It’s happening to him. Not me.
I just watch.
Sometimes he noticed pain when things happened, but he dismissed it as not his.
Sometimes he sensed fear, but he quickly learned to be sensible about it.
It’s unfortunate, he thought. But it’s not happening to me.