“There are dogs at the library!!!”
“Garrett Cole said I can stay at the Emerald Bar. That’s where heroes live. Now I live there.” (That one took her by surprise. Parole was a small world indeed.) “I still pinch myself sometimes, because I have to be dreaming. Jenny’s there too, now I can see her every day. I’m so happy.”
And Rose was happy too. Cairus’ inner world was a brighter and more optimistic place than she would have guessed from his silence. Still, he never spoke. At least not out loud.
Something seemed different today, though—anxious instead of unresponsive. He was tense and almost vibrating with nervous energy. But it was a change, and sometimes any change was a good sign.
Cai took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice, just above a whisper. “I ate breakfast naked today.”
She blinked, caught off-guard. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t that. But she felt a flicker of hope along with her surprise. Was this the very first time she’d heard him give a real answer in response to a question? “You did? That must have been nice.”
“It seemed like such a free-spirited thing to do, like something my husband and I would have done before all of this happened. I always told myself I’d make time for it, do what my heart wanted in just a little while, just a few more days. I don’t even know where I got the idea—a music video, I think. I remember, MTV still played music—so it had to have been way back in the 80’s.”
“Husband? When did you and—wait. The 80’s?” Rose frowned. “Cai, aren’t you eighteen?”
“And he was still asleep, but I got up early. Much too early. The sun was just coming up, I think, it’s hard to tell in all the smoke, and the barrier. It’s like living in a fishbowl in this place. Didn’t have any water in the house, of course,” he continued, and now she could see that his pale blue eyes had drifted out of focus. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t her. The entire group was staring at him now, and not with their usual polite or supportive attentiveness. “Or milk. So I just ate my cornflakes dry. I only got through about a half a bowl before I realized Anh Minh was spending the night at home instead of the library, and she might see me. Can you believe that? I almost forgot my own daughter was there.”
“Daughter?” Rose blinked, frantically going back over the details of his file. His was minimal enough to memorize, and she was sure she would have remembered someone his age having children, if nothing else.
“So I got up and put my clothes on. Anh Minh ate the rest of my cornflakes before she left for the library. I worry about her, that place is such a target, but she’s doing some real good, I’m so proud! She learns so fast, she’ll be an outstanding field medic, she’s learning all about disaster search and rescue, and about engines, even building her own bike—and it’s not like I wasn’t doing the same when I was her age. I don’t think she knew a thing was wrong, thank God, she don’t need to know!” He was talking faster now, words tumbling out and eyes misty.
“Cai, maybe we should continue this la—” Rose tried, but he didn’t seem to hear.
“I know she’s not a child anymore, but in a way I wish she was! I wish she had no idea what was happening. I wish she could still be an innocent little girl for a while longer, if that’s even possible in a place like this. Soon as I started to think again I felt so ridiculous—it was a silly teenage fantasy, but I wanted to feel young and innocent and like I had no idea what was happening, just for one day, and all at once I realized it’s too late, because any day now we’re going to fall into the fire, any day now we’re all going to die—”
“Shut up!” There was a loud bang as a small, very pale woman jumped to her feet across the room, shaking as if she’d just been chilled to the bone despite Parole’s heat. Her eyes were so wide the whites stood out all around the irises, and she backed away from Cairus, shaking hands raised as if to ward him off.
“Mrs. Le?” Rose blinked, shocked out of her own baffled reverie. “Are you all right? What’s–-”
“No, you shut up too!” The woman shook her head, short dark hair flying. “I don’t know how he’s doing that—how he’s saying these things, how he knows, but stop it! Stop it right now! If you’ve been spying on me, if you’ve come anywhere near my house, or my family—”
“No, no, I swear,” Cairus protested. “I haven’t been–”
“Wait… I know what this is.” Her eyes dropped to the floor and she pressed a hand to her thin chest, caught her breath. “I could feel it. My head. You were looking around in it.”
“Oh, God,” Cairus whispered, face going slack as the color drained from it until he was as pale as the woman staring at him from across the room. “I did it again. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re a telepath, aren’t you?” She stared directly at him, eyes clearing of any fear. What remained was absolute certainty and an unyielding line in the sand. “You read my thoughts. Those are mine.”
“I didn’t mean to!” Cai yelped. “It was an accident! This is a new thing, it started happening, and it’s scaring me, I can’t control it—”
“Then learn.”
“I think that’s enough for today,” Rose cut in, voice as calm and level as she could make it. “Everyone, if you would excuse us for a—”
“You had no right.” Chair legs scraped across the floor, loud and harsh, as the woman shoved it out of her way. Shaking her head, she moved toward the door. “Powers or no powers.”
“Listen, I’d never—It wasn’t like I—”
She whirled around to face him, eyes wide and piercing, and he immediately drew back. “But you did! My mind still belongs to me, do you hear me? Nobody else, me! I don’t care what you can do, I don’t care where we are, or what happens, some things still—”
POP.
A mass of vines erupted behind Rose’s shoulders like wings. Blossoms sprang out from under her hair and collar, out of her sleeves. In an instant she was draped in foliage and curling tendrils—and thorns. She closed her eyes for a moment against the familiar sting, the prickle of the multitude of tiny cuts and scratches as they burst through her skin.
“Oh, no…” Rose clapped her hands against her mouth, eyes round and wide. There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then the woman in the long coat bolted for the door.
“Mrs. Le, wait, I didn’t mean—” Rose started, but stopped herself. The door slammed shut, loud and sudden in the still room. She was gone. “I’m so sorry.”
Cai didn’t say a word or look away from the door, just slowly closed his mouth. After a few seconds, he sank back down into his seat amid a complete, horrified, and increasingly awkward quiet.
Finally, after all her thorns were retracted and her vines had fallen to drape neatly across her shoulders like a hanging shawl, Rose broke it.
“Like I said, that’s enough for today,” she said faintly, the only one in the room left standing tall, like a survivor among the fallen on a battlefield. “We’ll meet back here on Thursday. Until then,” she said, raising her voice a little. She was trying to inject some upbeat hope, but it just came out strained. “Try to find one thing that you’re thankful for, something that makes you happy. Next week, we’ll put them all up again… Cairus, if you—”
“Yeah,” he nodded, staring at a spot between his shoes. “I’ll stay.”
The group filtered out in a low rustle of clothes and bags, muttered conversation and tense silence. All but one.
The young man stood, awkward and lanky and too tall for his jeans, in the center of the circle of empty chairs. He had his arms not folded, but hugging his upper body, as if against a blizzard’s chill. Looking at his dirty, ill-fitting clothes and unruly head of springy yellow curls, Rose was struck by just how young he was—and how the dark circles under his eyes made him look so much older. He’d pulled the sleeves of his grimy sweatshirt down, holding onto them tight, and she could hazard several guesses at what lay under them.
“Cai...” she said quietly, taking a slow step forward
, out of the small pile of leaves that littered the floor and chair, shed in her frustration that now drained away. “Thank you for staying. I’ve...got some questions.”
He nodded again, still looking at the floor. “Me too.”
“Oh, well you first then.” When he hesitated, she lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, Cai. I’m not angry.”
“Bet she is.”
“Mrs. Le is scared. Everybody is. It comes out in different ways.”
“You’re gonna talk to her, right? Just tell her I’m sorry? I know that doesn’t mean anything, and there’s nothing I can do to make it better, but… I am, and I hope she’s okay, that’s all. You’ll say the right thing, not me.”
“I’ll talk to her, but it’s her choice whether to come back or not.” Rose shook her head. “And it’s not for you to worry about.”
“Yeah, but I’m gonna. I’m sorry, about—what just hap—what I just did.” Cai mumbled, words running together. “I...I shouldn’t have...”
“It’s all right,” Rose said gently. “It’s my job to make this a safe place for everyone. It doesn’t always work out like that.” Her eyes dropped to her knuckles, where the skin was still raw from where there had once been thorns. “We try our best and prepare for the bad days, but no matter how prepared you are, you’re going to make a mistake.”
“I know—God, I’m so scared of that! Hurting someone, like today, I think about it and I can’t even move.” Cai scratched the back of his own hand, pulled the sleeve down a little more. “This is why I don’t talk,” his voice rose, but not into a more conversational tone, or anything more confident. It was tight, desperate, sounded like it might break. “Whenever I talk, I end up saying the wrong thing, and I can’t stop, and people get hurt or mad, and…”
“I’m glad you spoke up today,” Rose said, and meant it. “That’s how you start healing. Everybody makes mistakes Cai. I sure did today, you saw it.”
“That’s the problem! If somebody amazing and smart who knows what they’re doing can mess up like that, what hope do I have? If I talk, I’ll just start messing up constantly and never stop!”
“No. Take that thought—that extreme, huge thought—and look at it for a second. What does it feel like?”
“Like a claw monster. It’s attached to my whole brain, just latched around it. Squeezing every other thought out. I’m so scared all the time.”
“I feel that. I really do.” Rose nodded. She had a claw that clamped down on her own brain from time to time; virtually everyone she knew did. All from different sources, all different kinds, but the same paralyzing fear. “And today you felt that claw?”
“It’s when I feel things that aren’t…” he stopped, eyes slipping out of focus. He didn’t speak for a full second, then another.
Rose opened her mouth to say his name, but stopped herself. Waited for another moment.
When Cai spoke again, his voice was much calmer than it had been, more thoughtful. Not tremulous and anxious, but sad. Tired. “We’re here to heal in this place that needs it most,” he said, words slow and much more regular than his anxious, staccato tone. “I took an oath to first, do no harm. It’s getting harder and harder to follow that promise in this damned city. When I look around, there’s so much pain that some days, I don’t know where to start. But I have to start somewhere.”
Rose shivered. He’d taken the words right out of her mouth… or maybe out of her head. She stared at him, searching, but got no answers from the mop of blonde hair. “Cai...look at me.”
He did, slowly and ashamed and not at all trusting. She kept her eyes soft and nonjudgmental, even as she tried to evaluate any potential threat. Even accidental violations were what Rose was here to prevent. In this room she was the first and last line of defense, and today she’d failed. Never again.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Don’t be sorry. This is what you meant, isn’t it?”
He tried to smile and didn’t quite succeed. “It’s not just the weird telepathy stuff. I still mess up and say the wrong things even when this thing doesn’t happen. It just kind of...blends with what I’m already dealing with.”
“How do you mean?” Rose couldn’t help but notice her heart beating faster. This was the most he’d spoken to her since they’d met.
“I mean…I still have the depression, and PTSD, and the normal hallucinations, I’ll always have those, and I know how to handle them. But I think I’m...”
Rose waited. Let him say it on his own.
“I think I’m picking up other peoples’ thoughts and feelings. From outside of me, not inside.” He looked up quickly to check her reaction, speaking faster and faster. “Listen, I know how it sounds, but I also know myself. I know my mind. I know my body, I know it better than anyone. And I don’t need any more–”
“Cai, it’s okay,” Rose gently held up her hands. “I’m not going to do anything to you without your consent. I can’t, but I wouldn’t anyway, I promise. I’m just here to listen.”
“I didn’t mean to scare her,” he said, chest rising and falling fast as he took rapid breaths to go with his accelerating words. “I scare myself sometimes, I never know what’s gonna come out of my mouth. It’s always things I shouldn’t know. Things other people know or feel—and then they get scared. Or sad. Or mad at me. And I don’t know how to stop, and I want to stop, and… I was hoping you could. Y’know… help me? With it? But I didn’t know how to ask, or even explain. So I just started talking. And instead, this happened. I’m so sorry.”
“Okay.” Rose sighed, shifted her thoughts towards analysis, away from shame and pain. “These thoughts. Do you have them all the time?”
He paused, then shook his head.
“So they’re episodic?”
“I...”
“I mean, do they come and go? Or is it all the time?”
“I know what you mean. I just don’t know how to explain them.” He looked at the floor.
Rose was quiet for a moment. “You were injected with Chrysedrine when you were younger, right?”
“Mmm.” Cai nodded, rubbed his mouth. “Schizoaffective disorder. Depressive. So yeah, parents tried it. Before they figured out it doesn’t really do much for mental stuff. And, you know, before anyone knew how dangerous it was.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “Wasn’t like they were trying to mess me up or anything. Took me a while to stop thinking they were. For the longest time, I…”
“You were angry?”
“Angry?” He frowned, looking deep in thought and almost confused.
“It’s more than understandable. It’s okay if you still are.”
“‘Angry’ doesn’t begin to cover it, that’s all. I hated them for making me get the shot. For thinking I needed it in the first place. For leaving me here. Even though…” he stopped, swallowing hard and staring into the middle distance for a moment. “I know it wasn’t their choice.”
“They were evacuated?” Rose asked softly.
He nodded. “Early. Fast. Didn’t matter if the drug didn’t do anything to me. I got the super-shot, so SkEye kept me in here while…”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s fine. They’re safe outside, and that’s a good thought, right?” Cai blinked away his tears and tried to smile, but it was so shaky it collapsed easily as any of Parole’s brittle sidewalks.
“But no, until now, no super-anything. I’ve seen and heard things that weren’t there for years, but that’s not this,” he said quickly, eyes clear and focused right on hers. “What’s happening now, it’s different from before, my own stuff I know how to deal with. When I’m seeing or hearing things like usual, they’re all shadowy and weird and I know they’re not real. Also, that happens when I’m alone, so I know it’s just me. But this, what I just did to Mrs. Le, it only happens when someone’s with me. And I say something of theirs, that I shouldn’t know, and it’s real. They’re full words and clear sentences and these—
these intense feelings, and they’re true, every time. Does that make sense?”
Rose nodded slowly. “I think I’m following.”
“I know my own brain, okay?” He said again, as if it was the most important thing in the world, so neither of them would ever forget. “I can tell the difference. When stuff comes from inside, I know it’s not real. When it comes from outside, it’s real…” His hands closed, opened again. “But I don’t want to know. I have enough nightmares. I don’t want to see anybody else’s. And I don’t want to yell them out for everyone to hear.”
“I understand,” she said, heart feeling heavy for several reasons. She spent every day listening to others’ problems and trying to help lighten their burdens, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt sometimes. Any therapist—any friend, even, who deeply cared and wanted to ease suffering—would. The difference between the two of them was that Rose was trained and prepared for the responsibility. She’d volunteered. Cai hadn’t.
“Thanks. I… I was hoping you’d get it.” Now he met her eyes, looking more relieved than she’d ever seen him. “Thought you would. I didn’t think the drug did anything, you know? Guess it did after all.”
“Sometimes Chrysedrine’s effects can be delayed,” Rose reflected. “They can lie dormant for months. Years. And then latent abilities can develop without warning. There’s still so much we don’t know.”
“So this is, what—some kind of adult onset superpower?” He flashed a smile. “That was a joke. Bad joke.”
“If it helps to think about it that way,” Rose had to smile. “You said before that you knew your own mind better than anyone, and you’re right. Nobody knows how to live with non-typical bodies and brains better than the ones living with them. I’m sure you’ve thought of this, but if this new ability seems more like a curse than a gift right now, then maybe using some of the coping skills you’ve learned over the years can only help.”
“I’m trying.” His face darkened. “I know that this thing ever going away is… unrealistic. But it’d be nice if I didn’t yell out strangers’ innermost thoughts whenever I opened my mouth.”
Life Within Parole Page 10