Forbidden Mind (Forbidden #1)

by Kimberly Kinrade

  Her face collapsed, and she ran out of the bathroom, followed by her friends.

  I went to the nearest stall and sat on it, shaking. Out of fear, rage, guilt? Standing up to her didn't feel as good as expected.

  Maybe I felt bad because it felt so good, if that made any sense at all.

  When the day from hell finally ended, I ran to my room and locked myself in. I paced my spacious room, moving picture frames and misplaced CD's around with no real thought. Picked up some dirty clothes and threw them into the hamper in my walk-in closet. Turned the stereo on, then off again. Tried a movie. No help. I gazed at the collage of pictures on my bulletin board: me, smiling brightly at the camera, friends around me at different school events. I looked happy.

  I unmade my bed and threw myself into it.

  All night I tossed and turned, lost in my melancholy, alternating between kicking the covers off and then shivering and pulling them back on, hot and cold all at once. I ran a high fever and eventually passed out.

  I didn't wake up the next morning.

  Chapter 4

  I woke up groggy and in the Clinic. My head screamed at me to chop it off and put it out of its misery. My body clearly had been weighted down with lead.

  "Good morning, sunshine." Dr. Sato, all five feet and ninety pounds of her, leaned in close.

  "How long was I out? What happened to me?" My voice cracked, making me sound like a shipwreck survivor. I tried to lift my head. Bad idea. Sorry head.

  "You not show up for classes yesterday. Your friends worried and found you passed out in bedroom with very high fever. They bring you here. You been unconscious."

  Mistrust tickled the back of my brain, and I instinctively reached for her mind to fill in the missing pieces of the story.

  As always, I could not cut through her language.

  A cramp in my abdomen wrenched me from my thoughts. I rested my hand on my stomach and tried to breathe. It wasn't that time of the month, so why did it hurt so much?

  "Are you all right? You hurting?"

  "Just cramping. What am I sick with?"

  "Likely the flu. You be okay, just rest and fluids. Keep you here until you a little better."

  I noticed the IV in my arm for the first time. "Can I go back to my room now?"

  "Not yet. If you stay better and keep food down, you go to room and rest there."

  "I am pretty hungry. Can I get something to eat?"

  She nodded and left to get me lunch. Or dinner. I wasn't sure of the time.

  After I downed a cold, limp turkey sandwich and green Jell-O, Dr. Sato declared me fit for bed rest in my own room. She unhooked me from the IV and went to sign me out.

  My knees wobbled a bit as I began to dress, checking my body for anything abnormal. Nothing.

  The walls kept me steady as I made my way through the Clinic. Just as the starch had returned to my legs….

  'Stay conscious… alert… must be way out… can't move… light hurts… must find my strength… what happened?... how'd they catch me?... I screwed up… hurt… it hurts.'

  His voice projected itself to me stronger than anyone's ever had. It was him, my mystery boy.

  I started following the sound of his thoughts, but the secure-password/scan-protected door stopped me short. Only certain staff members had clearance into that section of the Clinic.

  But he was in there.

  If anyone found out about this, I would be in trouble. But how would they know? They couldn't read my mind. Or could they? I put my hand on the forbidden door, trying to get closer to him. I needed to know who he was, why he was here.

  Images flashed into my mind, projected there by some other power. A hospital room, locked. A boy… well, a young man… lying in a bed in pants and no shirt. His muscles bulged as he struggled against the restraints on his wrists and ankles. Wires sprang from his chest and temples, and an IV dripped a clear fluid into his body.

  'Help me. They took me. Help me, please.'

  I jumped back, shocked that he actually spoke directly to my mind. That first time hadn't been a fluke.

  I'd never had a mental conversation with anyone before. "Can you hear me?" I projected my thoughts to the young man in my vision.

  'Yes.'

  My legs gave out, and I plopped onto the hallway floor.

  'Are you still there?' He sounded calm despite his situation.

  I admired him for that even as my own heart took off like a hummingbird on speed. "Yeah, sorry. Who are you? What happened to you?"

  'I'm Drake. Drake Davis. I don't know what happened. I was kidnapped, and now I'm trapped here. Who are you? How can you hear me?'

  Good question. I had no idea.

  How did he get kidnapped? Did someone here do it? That was hard to believe. There must have been a reason they'd locked him up. Perhaps he was dangerous, couldn't control his powers, and he hurt people. Other kids had been sedated when dangerous powers got out of control.

  "Are you telepathic? Can you read minds like me?" Maybe that would explain this ability, if not the lockup.

  'I don't think so. I've never been able to before.'

  I waited for him to finish, but he appeared to be done. "Do you have a para-power?"

  'Who are you? Where am I?'

  "I'm Sam. You're in the Clinic at Rent-A-Kid. Well, I don't know what it's really called, but you're in a hospital used for the paranormals who live here."

  'So you can read minds.' It wasn't really a question.

  "Yes."

  'I can make people do things with my mind. I'm also really strong.'

  That made him a powerful paranormal. Those powers could get out of control, hurt people. Surely they had him locked up for his own good. But why bring him in at this age? How did they even catch him if he's so powerful?

  I hadn't expected him to answer my private questions. 'I have no idea how they got me. I'm tied to a bed with restraints that I can't break, and they're putting a drug in me that's making me weak. I can't control any of my powers. Can you help me?'

  "I don't know. There's no way of getting into that part of the Clinic." Besides, should I even help? He was dangerous. While I didn't agree with everything Rent-A-Kid did, I wasn't about to start a war over one guy. They'd probably done this to help him control his powers.

  "Sam, what are you doing here?" Dr. Sato stood behind me, fists on slight hips, glaring at me.

  I really needed to learn her dialect.

  "I don't know. I'm sorry. I started feeling dizzy and got disoriented. I was just looking for a place to sit down." A simple lie made possible by a lifetime of acting.

  Her composure softened. "You should have waited for the guard to escort you back to your room. Maybe you stay here is better."

  She helped me up and guided me to her office. I sat down on her loveseat, fighting waves of nausea but trying to hide it.

  "Here. Drink."

  I took the juice and drank greedily. My energy surged as the sugar hit my system.

  I sighed and sat the empty cup on the coffee table in front of me. "I'm feeling better. I just want to get back to my own room. You said it's just the flu, right? My fever broke. There's no reason I can't recover in the comfort of my room."

  "Yes, okay, but come back if you feel dizzy or nauseous, or if any other odd symptoms persist."

  "I will."

  She picked up her phone, and a moment later, a guard came in with a wheelchair. I groaned, just wanting to get home.

  The trip back to my room could only be described as humiliating. Fortunately, not many witnessed it.

  I dressed in my flannel pajamas and crawled into bed before I tried contacting Drake again. He fascinated me, despite the warnings my friends had delivered—stay away, he's no good. They were right, but once again some new part of me had taken over. I just didn't care about the consequences.

  "Drake, can you hear me?"

  'Yes, what happened?' His mental voice came in just as clear and strong as in the Clinic, even though I had a
lready traveled halfway across campus. I could now read from longer distances than ever before.

  I decided to try something new. He had been able to project images to me; maybe I could do the same.

  My tidy room, my closet with the door hanging open, the oak dresser and matching desk, a MacBook sitting on top of it—I imagined my mind as a computer, sending every captured image via email.

  "Can you see what I'm showing you?" I didn't expect it to work.

  'Is that your bedroom?'

  "Yes!"

  'It's nice. Cozy. Are those pictures of your friends on the wall?'

  "Lucy and Luke, my very best friends. And some other kids from class field trips."

  'You're very pretty.'

  "Umm… thank you."

  'Sam, tell me about this place, please.'

  "Hmm… I've grown up here. It's nice enough, though not as perfect as it looks. We go to school to learn things like math and English, and learn to control our powers, whatever they may be. Kids with dangerous ones are given special lessons in private. Once we're old enough, around thirteen or so, and have enough control, they start sending us on assignments. Basically rich people rent us for a specific job, usually to spy for them."

  I paused. Should I be telling him so much? I flipped my pillow over to the cooler side, and continued.

  "My friend Lucy can always tell if people are lying, and her brother walks through walls, so they get sent to places where those powers are useful. They choose us for each job based on our power, personality, and skill level. We get paid, some in cash, but most in a bank account, and attend classes the rest of the time. Other than the assignments and para-powers, as we call them, it's basically like a high-end prep school. Some teachers are good, some not. Some kids are great, some not."

  'So what do they want me for?' he asked. 'You've all been raised here. I haven't. They can't control me like they can you. No offense. I just….'

  "They don't control us. Many of the kids here have powers that could hurt others. Some, like me, have powers that could get us hurt if people knew about them. This place saved us. But I don't know why they brought you here. It is unusual."

  'Do you like it here? Are you happy?'

  Hmm… I didn't know. I thought so, once upon a time, but things were changing, like all these urges to break the rules. Why? A new life waited for me after years of being a model student. To stir up trouble would only result in a bitter meal for me and everyone else. I needed to stay focused on what was important.

  "That's tricky to answer. It's hard to miss what you never had, but when I read books, see TV shows or visit other families, I wonder what my life would have been like raised in a family. I guess I've always done my job knowing that when I turn eighteen, I'll be free to do what I want. I now have enough control not to put myself or others at risk."

  'Do you seriously think they will let you go?'

  What? Of course they would let me go. I'd been to other kids' going-away parties. We got postcards from some of them talking about how great life was on the outside. Why wouldn't they let us go?

  I opened the bottom drawer of my nightstand and shuffled through some papers until I found what I needed. The Eifel Tower stood proud and glowing on the postcard, thousands of lights in the night. On the back, a postage stamp from Paris. Hey, Sam, wish you were here. You'd love the Sorbonne. Stay good and enjoy your time in New York. Love, Rebekah. She'd been one of us. Now she was free. What more did I need?

  "Of course, they'll let us go. They've already let others out." I projected the image of my postcard.

  'Sam, you know too much. Did all your parents give you up willingly? Why weren't they involved in your lives at all? Have any ever come to visit or interact with their kids? You don't think those postcards can be forged?'

  "Our parents gave us up because they couldn't handle kids like us. They did what was best for us." It was true. It had to be true. I needed it to be true.

  'Then why couldn't they at least stay in touch? Visit? Call?'

  "I don't know. Probably for safety. We get to meet our families when we leave. Once we are safe."

  'You keep talking about being safe, but they have rented you out since you were thirteen. You've been safe enough for clients for a long time, so why not let your family back into your life? Come on, Sam, you're a smart girl, but they've got you brainwashed to believe they are the good guys. They are not the good guys. They tracked me down, attacked me, and brought me here against my will. Does that sound like something a good organization would do?'

  My head pounded, the pain coming back full force, and I didn't want to deal with these questions. There had to be a reason they treated him that way—something he wasn't telling me.

  I would figure it out later. "Drake, I've been sick, and I'm crashing. Can we talk later?"

  'Okay. Hey Sam….'

  "Hmm?"

  'Be careful.'

  That night, stolen kids and heartbroken parents filled my dreams. I woke up more exhausted than when I'd fallen asleep, drenched in sweat, my heart racing.

  Chapter 5

  Two days of forced bed rest left little room for fun.

  After reading the first three chapters of every book in my possession, I needed reinforcements. As soon as class got out, Lucy and Luke came over bearing gifts—flowers, a get well card, chicken soup, and a new DVD.

  "You guys, I'm not dying. It's just a bad flu." I acted annoyed but appreciated the kindness.

  Lucy handed me the soup and a spoon. "I know, chica, but we figured you were bored out of your mind, and this might cheer you up."

  I smiled. "It has."

  Luke sat in my favorite chair, his long legs spread out before him. Lucy sat at the edge of my bed. Neither of them wanted to get sick. I didn't blame them. The vomiting had passed, mostly, but not the stomachaches.

  "So spill it, what's going on with you and mystery boy?" Lucy asked.

  "Nothing." I tried to look innocent as I sipped my soup.

  "Nope. Try again."

  I put the soup down and switched to our made-up language. "Do either of you wonder about our parents?"

  Luke's face hardened. He and Lucy had been left by their parents at a hospital as babies. Rent-A-Kid somehow got to them before Social Services could intervene. "Not really. It's better that way."

  "But if my parents were just doing what was best for me, then why haven't they been allowed to visit? Why don't any of us have contact with them? What if… what if they didn't give us up willingly?"

  Lucy stiffened. "Where is this coming from, Sam? Is that boy trying to convince you that this place is bad? Granted, it's not the ideal family, but they've taken care of us." She looked desperate to believe this.

  I suppose we all were, because to doubt the truth of this place meant questioning everything our futures might hold. Exploring the alternatives made my stomach clench worse than this flu. We were nearly eighteen, and though I had done my best to ignore Drake the last few days, I couldn't get his words out of my head.

  "You guys, Drake made some good points, things we'd have thought of already if we weren't too scared to face the truth. Why have they taken him and locked him up? Why don't we have any contact with the outside world except on assignment?"

  "It's for our protection," Luke straightened in the chair, his muscles tense. "If they knew what we could do, we would be locked up and tested like a bunch of lab rats."

  "I don't buy it. By the time we were old enough for assignments, we were old enough to keep our own secrets and control our powers. So what secret are they keeping from us?"

  "I can tell when people are lying," said Lucy. "Don't you think I would know if there was a big conspiracy?"

  True. We called Lucy our human lie detector. And I could read minds, so how could they keep the truth from us? What would be the easiest way—

  Of course. "They aren't lying!"

  "That's what we're saying." Luke slumped back in the chair, a smirk on his face.

  "
No! I mean, what if they only tell the people we have contact with the cover story, not the truth? So those people aren't actually lying. After all, this organization is bigger than we know. We've never even met the people at the top. Maybe our teachers and the staff really believe we'll leave to our new life when we turn eighteen."

  Their crestfallen faces evaporated my enthusiasm.

  "Oh, my God, Sam," Lucy said. "What if you're right? What if we don't really get to leave? What do they do with us then?"

  Luke's fist balled. "Lucy, don't encourage her. This is all bullshit."

  I ignored him. "Drake was right about one thing: we know too many secrets. We'd be too dangerous in the world on our own. Even if we don't know the location of this property, we know where our assignments have been. We know the dirty secrets of some of the richest, most powerful people in the world. How could they take the chance of letting us go free? Think about it!"

  We sat there, staring at nothing, lost in our own dark thoughts of what this could mean.

  "So what do we do?" Luke asked. "If you're right, or if your boyfriend is right—"

  "He's not my boyfriend!"

  "Whatever. What do we do? We don't know what happens when kids leave here. We don't know anyone on the outside, and we've no way of contacting them if we did. This place is impossible to escape from. I'm not saying we just give up, but we need a plan."

  "Does that mean you believe me?" If I had to face the truth, I wanted my best friends with me, as selfish as that sounded.

  "I'm not sure, but you have a point. We'd be stupid not to think about it. But without any outside connections, we're dead in the water." He stared out my window, lost in his own thoughts.

  "We may not know anyone, but I bet Drake does."

  I linked minds with Drake, not sure if he'd want to speak to me. "Hey."

  'I'm glad you're talking to me again. This place is boring as hell without you.'