***
My eyes open slowly. It takes me a few moments to realise I’m back in my cell. I don’t lift my head as it feels like it’s being weighted down with bricks. I have a headache and an aching sensation throughout my body. All of my muscles feel worn out. My face still feels bruised, and I can’t help thinking about how much more I have to endure while I’m here. I got so hazy towards the end when I blacked out, I don’t even know if I told them anything.
“I’m assuming the fact that I’m still here means you didn’t tell them anything you shouldn’t have.” It’s Tate. He’s in my cell, standing near the door, the closed door.
Gasping, my heart tries to leap out of my chest. “What are you … how are you in here?” I try to stand up, a little too quickly for my body’s liking. I’m forced to stay on the bed, but I manage to sit up, holding on to my sides when I realise just how tender I am.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to creep you out. One of the nicer guards let me in—technically, you’re not allowed contact with other inmates until your interrogations are done, but I wanted to make sure you were okay after what I heard you’d been through today. I’m very impressed, I thought you would’ve given in.” Tate walks over and hands me some pills. “Here, I got these off another guard when I was being interrogated. They help with the pain and getting to sleep.”
I take the pills in my hand but hesitate. I don’t know if I should. Isn’t that like a rule—don’t accept anything from strangers?
“I think that just refers to candy,” Tate says with a smile, and I find it hard not to smile back. “Also, it’s not like we’re complete strangers anymore with everything I have umm … heard.”
“It’s still really weird to me that you can hear everything I’m thinking.” That’s worse than Drew sensing how I’m feeling. “How come I can’t hear every one of your thoughts?”
“Well, when you grow up in a house where your mother can hear everything you’re thinking, you learn pretty quickly to block things from getting out. Could you imagine all of those awkward teenage moments with your parent listening in?” Tate shudders.
I smile and look down at the pills in my hands. I’m willing to try anything to help with this pain. Swallowing the pills, I hope they kick in soon.
“So why didn’t you tell them what you can do?” Tate asks.
“Because I couldn’t do it when I was up there. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hear anyone’s thoughts. I’m still not totally convinced it’s me who is doing it.”
“Well, I can tell you that it’s definitely not me doing it to you. I can’t explain why you can do this sometimes and not others. When it first happened to me, I couldn’t stop the voices from getting in. My mother taught me how to control it, how to block what I don’t want to hear and amplify what I do.”
“Is she here, too?”
“No,” Tate responds. ‘She’s dead.’
“I’m so sorry.” My mother’s dead too.
“Oh crap, I’m sorry for this,” Tate says.
“Sorry for wha—”
He quickly jumps onto the bed, leans in, and starts kissing me. My automatic reaction is to push him off me, try to anyway.
‘Just trust me,’ he tells me telepathically.
I forgot I don’t need my lips to ask you what the hell you’re doing. Why exactly are you kissing me?
‘Well, it’s kind of an unspoken thing that the only reason we may visit another person’s cell is to umm … you know. The guards would never allow it if they thought we could possibly be conspiring against them. They’re lenient down here, but not stupid. I’m really sorry, it’ll be over as soon as he walks past.’
Umm, that’s okay, it’s not so bad … I can’t believe I just thought that, and now you’re laughing at me. I’m so embarrassed.
“You don’t need to be,” Tate says as our lips part.
“Why was everyone so much louder when we were kissing, is that normal?”
“No, that wasn’t normal. I could hear more too. I don’t think it was volume so much as it was quantity. I could hear more people, I think.”
“The voices stopped as soon as you pulled away.”
“Okay, I really don’t know what’s going on now. Kiss me again,” Tate says.
What? I raise my eyebrows at him.
He rolls his eyes at me. “I’m not hitting on you, trust me. I can say without a doubt that will never happen. Just kiss me, I just want to see if it happens again.”
Gee, way to make a girl feel attractive. I really want to throw myself at you now.
“Oh, you’re taking this the wrong way. How can I put this delicately … I don’t exactly play for your team, Allira.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise.”
“Not many people do at first. So just kiss me again.”
Are you sure this isn’t just a ruse to get into my pants? I smile.
Tate laughs. ‘Sorry, babe, your equipment just doesn’t do it for me.’
Now I’m laughing. I lean in for another kiss.
It’s happening again. I can hear at least ten different people … and eww, two of them are actually getting it on. Okay, make it stop now, please.
‘I can hear them too,’ Tate says. Our lips part again, and the voices quieten down immediately. ‘Okay, this is just weird, nothing like this has happened before.’
That’s probably a good thing considering the other person you could converse with was your mother. We both laugh. “Look at that, even in my state of crazy, I manage a joke,” I say.
‘I guess it’s true though.’
I look into his eyes, and it feels like I’m looking at someone I’ve known for years, someone I can confide in, rely on.
“Well, it’s not surprising you feel that way. After all, we did just make out, and let’s face it, I am pretty fabulous.”
“Wow, I’m now wondering how I didn’t notice it this morning.” Clearly very gay.
“Notice what? How flamboyantly awesome I am?”
“Stop, you’re making me laugh, and then everyone will think you look hilarious naked seeing as we’re technically ‘hooking up’ right now.”
We giggle some more. It feels good to be silly with someone again.
“It’s good to have someone to distract me from this place,” Tate admits. “Okay, enough of this mushy bonding crap,” he says with a smile. “Let’s focus on the issue at hand. What happens if we just touch, give me your arm.”
I offer up my hand. “I can hear them again, can you?”
“I can hear them, too. I have no idea what’s going on, this never happened with my mother. Are you sure nothing has ever happened before? Even the smallest change, something you thought wasn’t worth mentioning, anything?”
For the millionth time since I got here, no, there’s not one single moment where I thought I could be Defective … Oh wait. “I once pulled Drew out of a car while he was unconscious, and at the time I was worried that I might have super strength or something, but when I tried to lift a table about the same weight a few weeks later, I couldn’t even make it budge. I just put it down to adrenaline getting me through it. Of course, if I knew then what I know now, I would’ve left him in the car to burn. I’ve never heard anyone’s thoughts or anything else though—that’s as close as I’ve come to showing any symptoms.”
“Okay, I have no idea what is going on.” ‘Maybe you … no, that doesn’t make sense. It could be that … no, that wouldn’t work either.’
We both sit, motionless, trying to work out what is happening to me. Tate doesn’t get any of his ideas into full motion before he dismisses them as quickly as they come. It’s hard to follow.
“I’m sorry, I should let you get some rest. You’re going to need it for tomorrow,” he says kindly.
Tate signals to the guard that he’s ready to go back to his cell. I still don’t have any answers. If anything, I’m more confused. I should try to sleep. I have a feeling I’m going to need m
y strength back if I’m put through another round of interrogations tomorrow.
As I go to lie back down on my pillow, I feel a lump of something under my side. Reaching under me, I pull whatever it is out. It’s the clothes I was wearing when I was arrested. I throw them on the floor, but something in my jeans back pocket catches my eye. I know it shouldn’t be there. At least, I never put it there. It’s a folded piece of paper. When I open it up, I’m shocked and almost throw it across the cell in anger. It’s a note from Drew.
It wasn’t all a lie. Words can’t describe how sorry I am.