People: Ivan, Alabaster & Ivory

[nex]

This is Ivan. How I came to document Ivan is a strange story.



Night had fallen and I hadn't found refuge. This is not uncommon, I often ride through the night. It is not a good idea to stay still in the open at night in most places. I was in an area that had once been an everyday street of detached and semi-detached houses somewhere east of Birmingham. I was listening out for sounds of life, when I encountered it right there in front of me. A girl in a hooded parka stood in the middle of the street blocking my way. She had heavy boots on but nothing on her bare legs below the coat, and a shotgun unloaded under her arm. She didn't brandish it at me, merely waited for me to come to a stop several feet from her.

"My daddy has a place you can let your horse rest." she said, voice very soft. "Daddy says you should stay at our house tonight, because the Howlers are out."

She led me along the street, down an alley beside a house and into a forgotten back garden, and to a large shed with hay strewn around that looked as if it had been used as a makeshift barn before. I left Thorn with water and feed before the girl escorted me out the shed, padlocking it behind us. She led me back down the alley and into the next house's front garden, which was expectedly overgrown. The windows of the house were boarded up, and all looked dark inside. She knocked a pattern on the door, and I saw a light go on in the porch.

It got strange from here.

We were let into the house by a boy - I couldn't place his age in the light from the porch, but perhaps he seemed teenage. It was difficult, because he was strikingly androgynous, pale with a long platinum blonde hair, a delicately upturned nose and rosy cheeks. When the girl took down her hood and began to take her parka off, I saw she was a striking double to him; just as pale, just as blonde, and features just as delicate. It was clear to me they were twins.

He turned off the light and they hurried off down the hall, so I followed. I entered a living room, which was surprisingly warm, but lit only by a few candles. It was clean and neat, though outdated as if an old woman had lived there before the war, and I'd class it as "shabby". They both addressed a third man as "daddy", but it was clear to me he was in no way related to them. He was olive skinned, with dark hair and eyes. He placated them both by stroking their hair as they hugged him. Eventually they pulled away, eyes on him as if waiting for his next action.

"Go make supper." He told them, with all the affection that a father would. He gestured for me to join him on the sofa, and I did. "It's not safe for you to be out." he said, although I knew this, "the Howlers have been spotted the last few nights."

"Are you safe here?" I asked.

"Quite safe." He nodded. "My name is Ivan."

"Hector." I said, and took his offered hand to shake. "Who are the twins?"

"The girl is Ivory. The boy is Alabaster." I doubted that those were their real names, and Ivan seemed to pick up on this. "I had to name them." he said. I was confused by this. "They didn't remember their names, or couldn't tell me when I found them. They used to belong to a militia group."

"They don't look like the militia type." I observed.

"No, they weren't part of the militia," Ivan explained, "they belonged to it. When I found them, on a bomb site in Birmingham, she'd had her head shaved, and it was all cut up. He'd scratched his own arms raw. I brought them back here."

Just then Ivory came in with two glasses of what turned out to be white wine. As Ivan thanked her, I quite clearly saw his hand run up her leg, slightly under the hem of her dress towards her backside. My shock, confusion, and judgement must have shown on my face, because as Ivory went back to the kitchen he watched me thoughtfully as he sipped his wine.

"You're disgusted." he stated.

"I'm not sure." I said. I was, I think, but there was more than that simple feeling.

"I was just as uncomfortable with it." Ivan nodded, obviously preparing to explain further to me. "When I got them back here - I'd found a working car with a bit of petrol - they were terrified. She was practically catatonic, he was like a caged and rabid animal. I fed them, gave them a place to sleep. I think they first started to trust me when I left them to wash without interference. The plumbing works intermittently. It was then that I got the feeling they hadn't had much privacy for some time. They began to calm down. I don't know how old they are, I think eighteen or more. They started calling me daddy. When I didn't stop them, they changed. They started acting like children; simple thoughts, simple actions, minimal talking, playing."

This sounded creepy to me, but I understood from what he said they had suffered great trauma. I wasn't surprised when he elaborated.

"I managed to get them to tell me what had happened to them. They'd been property of a militia for more than two years. They'd been constantly tortured and raped, and I think it's safe to say, broken. The whole child thing really seemed to help them. I guess it was the only way their minds could cope, by regressing. I started to indulge them, scavenging toys for them, playing silly games with them. She was easy, treating her as a little princess. He... I tried to treat him like a typical little boy, but they're so attached to each other it didn't work. They wanted to do everything together, and the things they wanted to do were girly things. So I let them. It'd become about helping them cope, and that was how it worked."

I drank from my own glass, enthralled by his tale. It was horrifying, and creepy, and innocent, and sweet all at the same time, and I couldn't bring myself to stop listening. I could smell whatever the twins were cooking seeping through the house.

"I taught them to shoot." Ivan continued. "Alabaster was the first to need that skill; he shot a lone Howler scout that was prowling, clean shot to the head. She was the first one to get into bed with me. Then the boy. Then both. They don't do anything apart, so I can only guess they planned their solitary first visits. And by this point the world was so far past normal and moral... I didn't start it."

"But you indulged them." I said, because I knew I had to voice the objection I had to the idea of him being sexual with two he also treated as his children. "You should have known better."

"Yes." he agreed, and I was surprised he didn't rattle off justification for his actions. "Years ago I might have. But this world... this isn't a society. We exist beyond the rules and morals of what was normal. Tell me you haven't seen horrors, or heard about them while you travel?"

"Of course I have." I said. "But..." I didn't know what to say. If this had taken place in the old world, before the end, there would have been no question that it was sick and wrong. Now, having seen and known so much, my perceptions were skewed. They were giving me safety and shelter, and I didn't know what I would do if I had strong objections anyway.

Supper was a concoction of canned goods, which the four of us ate in the kitchen. Ivan allowed me to take a photograph of him and after we'd eaten, while the twins cleaned up.



Afterwards I was able to take a photograph of them together. No matter how I felt about their arrangement, I wanted to document it.



When we retired to bed, I was given the twin's room. I have thoughts on it, but I will note them with my photographs of the house. In the morning Ivan gave me permission to photograph the twins. It was difficult to get them sit alone; when I was asking Ivory to sit and look at the camera, her brother was nervously peering over my shoulder.





The same happened when I photographed Alabaster alone; Ivory fussed until I was finished.





They were a lot calmer when I photographed them together. Considering what I had learnt about their situation, their interaction was weird, but not surprising. They didn't talk to me, but they were strangely submissive when I was asking them if I could photograph them.







I didn't stay for long after that, even though Ivan extended an offer of another night of their hospitality. I declined. The twins went with me as I collected Thorn out of the makeshift barn, and set me on my way with child-like smiles and waves.
[adult/sensitive themes in prose]

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