A knock rouses me. He doesn't say anything - not aloud or into my head - but I know it's Callahan. I can feel his presence through the door. When I open it, he looks refreshed. I could use more sleep though.

  “You're cleared. Are you hungry?” I nod then follow him down the hall. We don't speak, but I can hear other voices in my head. I try to ignore them, but they continue growing louder, overlapping each other in an indistinguishable roar. I rub my forehead as if I can ease the pressure.

  “Can you shut me out or turn it down a notch? You're giving me a headache.”

  The confusion on his face melts into realization. “You're not in my head. You're mimicking my powers. You need to stop.” We pause in the hall outside the cafeteria.

  “I'm not doing it on purpose. I haven't even touched you.”

  “Is that typically how you do it? Physically touching someone?” I nod, but then I think about those last moments at Headquarters where everyone's powers were like an arsenal I could pull from if I wanted to.

  “I've felt powers before without ever touching, but I've never tried to use them.” My head pulses with a burst of pain. I squeeze my eyes shut. “And I'm not trying to use yours.”

  “You told Medical you don't take daily pills or injections.”

  “The fucking juice,” I mumble. “I drink it every day, but he says it's just…”

  “Get Medical. He's been damping her with something that didn't show up in the tests. Clear the area, especially anyone destructive.” His voice is calm, but people scramble away to follow orders.

  My heart beats in my ears. I drop to my knees, feeling faint. The panic of the crowd grips me. Their thoughts scream into my head. Their powers thrum under my skin.

  He kneels in front of me. His eyes are intense, urgent. His mouth is moving, but his voice is muffled beyond comprehension.

  “Do you think you're mimicking anyone else?” he speaks clearly in my mind, reducing everyone else's thoughts to a low drone. I shake my head.

  “Good. Don't reach for any more power. It'll get easier as they move away.” He's gentle, but firm.

  “I didn't reach for yours,” I counter as unwarranted rage washes over me at the insinuation. Every feeling, every emotion threatens to overwhelm me. “Just make it stop. Sedate me.”

  “No.” I glance up at him, but he doesn't waver. “This is your opportunity to control it. Prove it to yourself, to everyone here. Don't let Frank be right.”

  “I don't want to hurt anyone.”

  “You're giving me a headache, but I'll survive.” He smiles as he hands me two ear buds. “Focus on these sounds. Soon you'll be able to quiet everyone else.”

  After inserting the ear buds, the rest of the noise - the thoughts, fears, feelings of everyone around me - fades quickly. It's not a song, not music exactly, but a series of sounds that are pleasantly distracting. There is still a soft background hum that I fear will never go away.

  “You get used to it, but for me at least, yes it's always there.” I thank him and offer the ear buds back, but he declines. “I'll get another pair. How quickly do the powers fade after you mimic them?”

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  “Some never do, but usually as soon as I'm away from the source. Others for longer or farther. I'm rarely this far away from Headquarters though, so I don't know.”

  “Try something.” His demand is not unkind, but I can tell declining is not an option.

  I place my hand on the floor between us and my hot, sweaty palm cools. Frost forms on the tile, but barely spreads past my fingertips. I smile, feeling connected to Wren. “I've never been able to do much more than that,” I explain to Callahan.

  “Whose power is that?” The rush of homesickness is unexpected.

  “A friend.” A tickling sensation at the back of my skull makes me shiver and an image of Wren appears in my head. She's laying on my bed. “Hey,” I scold.

  He grins and the image is gone. “You're a quick learner. Show me another.”

  I focus on my hand again, which disappears easily. When I mimicked Calvin though, it was translucent, not invisible. When I swipe at the floor, there's a loud smack. “Apparently I can't ghost anymore.” This time, I think about punching Calvin in his gut before he asks about the owner.

  “Now push me out.” His resistance is tangible like a vice on my brain… until I feel it slip.

  “How hard were you trying?”

  “Not hardly at all,” he tells me honestly. The words sting even though I have no reason to be good at something I've never practiced. “You should've been practicing from the moment your powers developed.”

  I can feel his anger. It seeps into my chest, my stomach. I'm too tired to be pissed at my uncle for not preparing me, for damping me instead of training me, for whatever terrible negotiation failures lead to me ending up here. I need to eat something and lay back down. I don't want to feel this right now.

  “Please…” I start to ask.

  “Push me out.” At first the anger didn't feel directed at me, but suddenly I'm the target.

  “You've already made your point. I suck at it and I don't want to practice anymore.”

  “I wasn't asking.” Instead of replying or making any attempt at extracting him from my head, I march off down the hall to distance myself.

  “Stop,” he says calmly. I do, but not because I want to. My legs won't move. “We don't have time for you to be acting like a brat,” he says softly, directly into my mind.

  “You're just pissed that I'm not what you thought I'd be.” I manage to lurch one leg forward.

  “You can be though.” I stumble forward when I escape his hold. “I was trying harder that time.”

  I ignore his comment and his patronizing tone. I had been distracted on the way to the cafeteria, but eventually find my way back to my room. Somehow a hot breakfast arrived before I did. I'm famished. I devour the food, unconcerned what could be hidden inside after learning my own uncle had been drugging me for years. Callahan is against damping at least.

  I lay on the bed, but I can't relax. The earbuds don't help. It's not the thoughts and feelings of other residents that are disturbing me - that ability has faded with distance from people, from Callahan - it's their powers.

  Some powers are like thumping bass from large speakers, others like the drone of a vacuum. Some are small like the whine of a mosquito. I'm not hearing them though. I'm feeling them as if I were sitting in a massage chair or holding a vibrator to my temple.

  I chuckle to myself. This is one problem that some alone time with a vibrator won't fix. I bury my head under the pillow, willing it all to stop or at least fade. The powers are too many, too diverse, all clamoring for expression at once.

  It's too hot for that. I'm breaking into a sweat. I consider asking for help. Maybe Callahan has another trick like the earbuds. Maybe quitting Mr. Garner's drugs cold turkey is causing withdrawals. I'm too stubborn though.

  I try a shower - cool at first then scalding. I can't get comfortable. I pull a dull gray t-shirt over my damp body and some underwear before crawling into bed. Knees-to-chest, I will the thrumming and vibrations to stop.

  A knock on the door startles me awake. My body aches, but at least I had fallen asleep. I feel disoriented and strange, but then I remember my guest needs to be invited in.

  “Come in,” I say hoarsely.

  “I brought you lunch,” Callahan says as he enters. My stomach growls in response. But when he gets a closer look at me, “Shit. What's wrong with you?”

  I shrug as I get up to see what he brought to eat. He's visibly torn between examining me further and not lingering on my partially-clothed body.

  “The hospital gown after we barely said a word to each other was fine, but this makes you uncomfortable?” This is the first time I've seen his confidence truly waiver.

  “I should've known something was wrong. You shouldn't be able to keep me completely out.”

  “You shouldn't have free 24/7 access to my mind,” I retort.

  “No… You shouldn't have been capable of it. You've hardly practiced.” he rephrases.

  “You said I'm a quick learner. And I can probably do anything you can do if I try.” I sit on the bed with a sandwich and a bottle of water.

  He sighs and runs his fingers through his dark hair. I notice the light patches at his temples that match the sprinkle of silver in his short, groomed facial hair.

  “So you can mimic the full extent of people's powers? Without training?”

  “Theoretically... I'm not supposed to though,” I tell him between bites. “My uncle gets pissed. People call me a leech… Someone could get hurt.” I don't have to read his mind to see he's disappointed. “You were hoping I practiced more than parlor tricks.”

  “I'm… surprised.”

  “Should've done better research before kidnapping me.”

  “I would've taken you sooner.” He says this with a conviction that makes me uncomfortable. He's been planning this. To him, this was inevitable.

  “What is this really about? What do you want?”

  “Politics. Posturing mostly. Show my backers why they should continue supporting me. Deter any troublemakers. Discredit Mr. Garner.” I bristle at how casually he describes using me as a tool, a pawn.

  “And if I don't cooperate?”

  “I've treated you with kindness and respect. I hope you'll do the same. You'll have more freedom here than you ever would have at Headquarters.” He pauses, but I don't respond. “This could be a beneficial partnership. You're not a prisoner.”

  “You definitely sound like a politician. How about you bribe me with another sandwich? I was starving.” At first he looks unamused, but a small smirk curves his lips.

  “Do you prefer turkey or ham?”