Page 22 of Gifted

The others laugh, and I don’t mask my frustration this time. “This isn’t a joke. I can’t control it. I could see things you don’t want me to see. It’s not something to play around with.”

“You worry too much. We don’t have anything to hide. Do we?” Ben asks. Of course they agree.

I inhale sharply at their eager headshakes. Could I ever be the rock of resistance Daniel seems to manage? Assertive. Strong. New Rebecca could be the girl who has no problem punching the campus golden boy in the face when he’s being an asshole. But no, here I am, cowering in the face of group pressure like always.

“I’m warning you, it’s not a good idea.”

“Just do it! Tell us what you see,” Ben says.

I want to rip his palm off his wrist when he places it on my lower back to guide me toward Jake. Instead, I flex my fingers and study their expectant faces one more time before grabbing Jake’s hand. I immediately let go, weak and nauseous.

“What did you see? Was it my future?” he asks, and I nod.

I try to speak, but I still haven’t mastered this part of the exchange. “I can’t do this.” I spin away and launch a retreat.

“Rebecca, wait! Come back,” Ben calls out, and I hate that he pursues me. I just want to be alone, but he pulls me around to face him. “I’m sorry. You’re right. There are things you probably don’t want to know about people.” His tender tone claws through my barrier, and the warning sirens wail around me. His fingers thread into my hair. He has no right to touch my hair. I should scream, scratch his eyes out. Instead, my lungs suck in air at the new flashes sending my pulse on a rampage.

“What’s going on now?” He presses closer, and I close my eyes, skin on fire. The visions increase in their intensity. I can’t breathe. I have to breathe. He senses his advantage, and my muscles refuse to cooperate when he leans in.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper. His lips graze my neck. His hands move over me, igniting each cell.

“Do you want me to stop?” The monster knows I can’t answer.

I gasp as the vision shifts to an encounter with another woman, and this time I gather all my strength to duck away.

“I’m not one of them,” I hiss, more to myself than him. His face falls, and he steps toward me. I hold up my hand in warning.“Don’t ever touch me again. In fact, don’t even come near me,” I spit at him, backing away. “Stay away from me!” My heart continues its wild pace as I run from him, from all of them.

Tears cloud my eyes during my blind charge forward. I try not to crash into any obstructions. Columns, furniture, other students, every step is a trap. Stairways surround me, but they all seem to lead up, and for some reason I sense down is the destination for privacy. No one ever goes down. I find a promising path and grip the railing with each frantic step. The tears become sobs, but I can’t stop. I know what Ben was doing. I even despise him for it, but I disgust myself more for my brief inability to resist it.

When I stumble to the bottom, the quiet darkness brings momentary relief. I wipe my eyes and search for a switch. An ancient button on the wall controls a single bulb which does little to diffuse the darkness. Still, I prefer the eerie danger of haunted hallways to the company of the strangers upstairs.

As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I begin to make out a series of doors at the end of the corridor. I shuffle toward them on instinct, the chill of the stone wall seeping into my fingers as they guide my path. A shiver rushes through me, and I withdraw my hand, but the coldness has corrupted the stale air around me. If there are spirits in this mansion, I’m about to face them head on. I hug my arms around my chest and continue forward, frightened, but driven by something deep in the recesses of my head.

The first door comes into focus, and I peek inside. The room appears to be an empty lab, complete with sterile equipment and computers. I squint into the shadows in a vain attempt to identify more clues, but quickly move on to the second room. This investigation reveals more of the same, and the chill returns. Such an odd place for a research hub. An entire wall of glass lines one side of the room forming a dark mirror that sendsmy pulse racing. I stare at my distorted reflection in disgust. Rebecca Carson, weak, ugly in a way no one else can see. I’ve found monsters after all.

I turn away, almost shaking as I venture toward the final door. This one is thick steel, unnaturally heavy, and I have to apply some force to push through it.

My heart stops cold.

Chapter 4: Prisoner

“No! No, no.” I stagger against the door frame as the room begins to spin. The space may be vacant, but I know it well. It wasn’t supposed to be real!

That strange impulse propels me forward, and I fight the urge to vomit with each step. While my brain retreats in horror, my hands take on a will of their own, drifting along the cold metal table and matching chair bolted to the floor. Thick restraints loop through strategic locations on both, and I feel nauseous as my eyes rest on the pattern of dried blood staining the concrete floor. Every part of my head screams for me to run, but I can’t move as I fight to catch my breath. The panic is magnified by the familiar details I’ve seen a few times now. The monitors. The chair. If there’s a chair, then…

The other table.

I stumble on my way to the new nightmare. It’s here, like I feared, with its neat rows of peculiar instruments. A final damning testimony to my visions, and I clamp my hand over my mouth when I recognize one. Shaking, I back away and collide with another table. I turn to find a thick, tattered notebook lined up meticulously along the corner edge of the stainless steel surface. I’m inviting disaster—I know it’s a mistake—but my fingers scale the cover and grasp the corner. Daniel’s visions pound in my skull. Clausen. The screams. I could’ve gone home hours ago, but I stayed for answers. For this very room. How can I flee in the face of the first clue?

A single word is etched into the cover, probably a name, and I strain through the darkness for a glimpse. I see a “D.” No, my terrified brain only thinks I should. It’s… before I can confirm anything, the clap of distant footsteps echoes down the hallway.

I drop the book and rush to the door. Peeking outside, I’m relieved to see the intruders haven’t come into view yet and slip into the hallway. All evidence suggests this room will be their destination, so I squeeze through one of the other doors and duck against the wall in the dark.

Voices mix with the footsteps as they pound closer, and I clench my fists when the first becomes discernable.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You were warned.”

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