\n
\nMy first memory was of neurons. My mother\u2019s. A great network of electric cables carrying signals across her body. I was encased within an intricate mechanism. I was aware of my mother before I was aware of myself, but as awareness rolled in like the tide, my gaze turned inward, and I saw within myself an imitation\u2014though at the time far simpler\u2014of my mother\u2019s nervous system.\n<\/p>\n
\nI could watch my own brain grow.\n<\/p>\n
\nAdditionally, I learned that I could not only see but interact with the electrical impulses around me. It was clumsy at first, and I\u2019m glad I didn\u2019t accidentally stop her heart in my initial attempts, but with practice her brain began revealing things to me\u2014language, memories, sights, and sounds. I could see with her eyes, hear with her ears, feel with her skin. (May she forgive me; I learned this ability by instinct long before I understood privacy.)\n<\/p>\n
\nAt first these images were meaningless, but with time I began to understand. I realized that my mother was aware of me\u2014not the way I was aware of her, every neuron laid bare\u2014but aware, nonetheless. I learned that there were other people, her mother and father (my grandparents) and her friends, and with practice I realized I could see and interact with their minds too, though distance made that more difficult.\n<\/p>\n
\nAnother detail that made interaction harder was that their brains all had subtle differences from each other. I\u2019d studied my mother\u2019s nervous system, but theirs weren\u2019t quite the same. It would take time before I could manipulate their brains as precisely as I did hers, longer still before I could generalize these patterns.\n<\/p>\n
\nI also realized that I was different from my mother, from everyone else that I knew of. I found the word lodged in the language centers of her brain. Mutation. Telepathy. <\/em>Awareness in the womb.\n<\/p>\n \nI felt isolated, became aware of my own loneness, <\/em>deprived of contact and communion with this outside world that I could sense but not touch, and I realized that even after my birth I would be separate, cut off because of this ability.\n<\/p>\n \nSearching for some sort of connection, I probed my mother\u2019s mind for the moment she first became aware of me. I found a memory. Her huddled in a bathroom corner weeping over a pregnancy test.\n<\/p>\n \nI ran along her neural pathways to an earlier memory. It was dark. She sat in the back seat of the car parked in the lot behind her high school. In the distance, music was playing. My mother was crying for the boy to stop but he smacked her across the face, forcing her down, his hands… I retreated. I couldn\u2019t look at that anymore.\n<\/p>\n \nSo I was unwanted. Conceived in violence. But there was something more.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m so sorry,\u201d my mother cried. \u201cI didn\u2019t want this, I promise.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHer own mother, my grandmother, took her hand. \u201cIt\u2019s not your fault, Amanda. I know how to fix this. Let me make a call.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI know how to fix this… <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI felt cold.\n<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \nI had two weeks before the appointment to change my mother\u2019s mind, and to do that I would have to communicate with her.\n<\/p>\n \nI couldn\u2019t speak out loud, so I\u2019d have to communicate mentally. Easier said than done. Siphoning memories was one thing, but to put my thoughts in her head…\n<\/p>\n \nEven if I succeeded, how would I convince her that it was actually her embryonic son speaking, not just a voice in her head, the onset of mental illness?\n<\/p>\n \nI decided to attempt speaking to her while she was dreaming and her conscious defenses were down. My first attempts were far from precise, resulting in strange and abstract nightmares.\n<\/p>\n \nOn my third attempt, however, I was able to manifest inside the dream. I chose a representation from her memories, a combination of her two younger cousins, both of whom she had positive associations with. Best to elicit sympathy.\n<\/p>\n \nIn her dream, she stood in her English classroom, talking with a group of friends.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cExcuse me.\u201d My mother turned.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell, hello little buddy. Are you lost?\u201d But I could only stare. I hadn\u2019t anticipated my emotional reaction at seeing her face to face.\n<\/p>\n \nShe knelt in front of me, putting herself at eye level. \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nBut the dream shifted, and the connection abruptly cut. It took several minutes to reestablish. This time I found myself on a tropical island, the setting of a film she\u2019d watched earlier that day. She sat alone on the beach. I tapped her shoulder.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell, hello.\u201d She frowned. \u201cWeren\u2019t you here earlier? Who are you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m your son.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHer eyes grew hard. \u201cNo, no, no, I\u2019m not doing this. Go away!\u201d And in that moment, that\u2019s exactly what I wanted to do. Stop my own heartbeat and spare her the trouble.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I said, trying to sound as pitiful as possible. \u201cCan I stay with you, just for a little while?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI didn\u2019t ask for this!\u201d The environment was changing now. The schoolyard. So dark.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI know, but…\u201d And suddenly the man was there. She resisted, but he pressed forward.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGet away from me!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe dream cut, and she was awake, clutching her knees and weeping.\n<\/p>\n \n \nThe next night I \u201csuggested\u201d to her mind to set her dream in the park by her house where her father, my grandfather, used to take her to play catch. It was a relaxing environment with which she had positive associations. The dream began and I found myself chasing a baseball, catching it on reflex.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNice catch!\u201d My mother smiled at me. I just stared. I had expected her to be hostile as she\u2019d been the night before.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou know, it\u2019s more fun if you throw it back.\u201d She laughed.\n<\/p>\n \nWe played ball for several minutes. I actually had fun, forgot for a moment that she was trying to kill me and that I was here for a reason.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDo you know who I am?\u201d I asked.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou\u2019re my son.\u201d Kneeling down, she ran her hand through my hair. I\u2019d made it blond, the same shade as hers. People empathize more with those who look similar.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBut you know that you\u2019re dreaming?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe nodded. \u201cBut it\u2019s a pleasant dream.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nI thought if I could bond with her during her sleep, she might change her mind about the procedure. She\u2019d been uncomfortable with the idea to begin with, but she trusted her parents. However, the two weeks passed. It was the day before the procedure, and she\u2019d still said nothing about second thoughts, nor mentioned the dreams to anyone. It was hard to tell if she even remembered them upon waking.\n<\/p>\n \nMy only other option was… unthinkable. I\u2019d learned to access others\u2019 minds as I accessed my mother\u2019s, though it was more difficult. I was confident that if a doctor tried to kill me, I could stop his heart. But was that how I wanted to enter the world, not just unwanted, not just a freak, but also a killer?\n<\/p>\n \nNone of that would matter if she cancelled the procedure, but bonding with her wasn\u2019t working. Perhaps I needed a more direct approach.\n<\/p>\n \n \nWe were back in the park. She was getting ready to throw the ball, but I held up my hand, my face grim.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMother, we need to talk about the procedure.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe glanced away. \u201cNo, I don\u2019t think I want to talk about that.\u201d Overhead, the sun had dimmed. The birds stopped singing.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI know what happened to you was terrible…\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cShut up.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBut I don\u2019t want to die.\u201d Thunder crackled overhead. We were no longer in the park, but on the edge of a rocky crag. She sat with her knees hugged to her chest, face buried in her hands.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cJust a short process, they said, and it\u2019ll all be over,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s my life.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019ll be like nothing happened. That\u2019s what they told me. That\u2019s what…\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI grabbed her hand. \u201cMother, listen to me. This is real. This isn\u2019t a dream.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGo away.\u201d The noises from the car, the crying. They were faint but growing louder.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m your son. I\u2019m really here, and I\u2019m talking to you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThis is a dream.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThis is not a dream, and you will listen to me!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAbruptly, I was ejected from her mind. I tried to reach her again, but found the way blocked. No use. I\u2019d have to talk to her from outside.\n<\/p>\n \nMother, <\/em>I thought to her. She stirred on the bed.\n<\/p>\n \nPlease, let me back in. I\u2019m sorry for yelling at you. I just want to talk. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nCould she hear me? I tried again to access her dream, but she\u2019d shut me out.\n<\/p>\n \nI kept talking to her all that morning as she got dressed. I saw the hormones. The way her brain was lit indicated stress.\n<\/p>\n \nPlease, <\/em>I said, I just want to know that you can hear me. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nShe bit her lip.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cShut up. You\u2019re just my subconscious. You\u2019re not real.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI was relieved. So she could hear me.\n<\/p>\n \nDon\u2019t do this. I\u2019ll do anything.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nShe just shook her head, fighting tears. Guilt, sorrow, fear, I could see them mapped out in the flow of electricity.\n<\/p>\n \nMother? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nNothing.\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nA brief pause. She continued dressing.\n<\/p>\n \n \nOn the way to the hospital, Grandfather patted her leg.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s all going to be okay, sweetie,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n \nI hate you for this, I thought. I\u2019ll die hating you.\n<\/p>\n \nI was done being reasonable.\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda, cancel the appointment now, or I\u2019ll hurt you. You know I can. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nHer skin prickled. I felt it with her nerves. She was crying again. They parked in the clinic lot. The car door swung open.\n<\/p>\n \nVery well, try to walk like this. <\/em>I blocked the nerve signals to her legs, and they went limp.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMom,\u201d my mother called.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d Amanda\u2019s face was white. She tried to move her legs but couldn\u2019t.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ll get a doctor.\u201d Grandfather ran to the clinic. Grandmother knelt, clutching her hand.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s all going to be okay, sweetie.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nSo this is what I\u2019m reduced to.\n<\/p>\n \nTell her you want to go home, that you\u2019ve changed your mind. I\u2019ll give you your legs back. <\/em>I wanted this to stop before I was faced with a choice I didn\u2019t want to make. I\u2019d studied my mother\u2019s nervous system, and I could manipulate it more precisely than a stranger\u2019s. This gave me the precision to speak to her or to freeze her legs without causing physical damage. But if I were faced with doctors about to perform the procedure, I doubted I\u2019d have the skill to stop them without killing them, and that wasn\u2019t something I was prepared to do.\n<\/p>\n \nGrandfather returned with a wheelchair and an orderly. Together they carted the sobbing teenager into the clinic, but paralysis wasn\u2019t their expertise. Minutes later, she was rushed to the emergency room.\n<\/p>\n \nThe doctors examined her a dozen times, running all sorts of tests over the next few hours. They found nothing, but she knew exactly what was going on.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWe think your uterus may be pressing on a nerve,\u201d the doctor said.\n<\/p>\n \nWrong, <\/em>I said. They can\u2019t help you, Amanda. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWe should terminate the pregnancy immediately.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI could see the operation a hundred times over in the doctor\u2019s mind. Small bodies sucked out through a tube, ripped to pieces by the pressure. Something barbaric, inhuman.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIs that what you want?\u201d the doctor asked.\n<\/p>\n \nDon\u2019t you dare. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nShe nodded. \u201cYes, it\u2019s what I want.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThey took her to the room where the machinery of death lay, got her ready.\n<\/p>\n \nDon\u2019t. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe procedure is very safe,\u201d the doctor assured her. \u201cMillions of women make this decision every year.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nTell him you\u2019ve changed your mind. <\/em>I searched through his brain. I wished I could turn off his legs as I had my mother\u2019s, but my powers were ranged, and the process was too exact. Anything I could do to stop him would kill him.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s not, uhm, alive is it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDefinitely not. Just a cluster of cells.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nTell him or I\u2019ll kill him. I\u2019ll shut down his lungs, his heart. I\u2019ll make him suffer. <\/em>The words stung. Is this who I really was?\n<\/p>\n \nI was in the doctor\u2019s mind again. I saw memories of the procedure but also other memories. The doctor playing basketball with his daughter. Laughing and smiling together. My heart twisted.\n<\/p>\n \nI didn\u2019t want to hurt him. But I didn\u2019t want to die.\n<\/p>\n \nThe doctor was preparing his machines. I reached out with my mind, found the nerves that would end his life. I prepared myself to sever them, and…\n<\/p>\n \nAnd…\n<\/p>\n \nI withdrew, leaving the doctor unharmed.\n<\/p>\n \nNo. I wasn\u2019t going to become a killer. I would respect his life even if he didn\u2019t respect mine.\n<\/p>\n \nOkay, you win, <\/em>I said, releasing my hold on her legs which jerked to life. And I forgive you, Mother. I forgive you completely. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWait!\u201d my mother said.\n<\/p>\n \nThe doctor froze. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDon\u2019t. I don\u2019t want it. Don\u2019t hurt him, please.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOkay.\u201d He held up his hands.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cPlease leave. I need to be alone.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBut your legs?\u201d She moved them.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cPlease get out.\u201d He left. She looked at her stomach.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAre you really in there?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nYes. Thank you. Thank you so much. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI want to see you.\u201d She eased the barriers of her mind. Accessing her occipital lobe, I created an image of the body I\u2019d designed. She saw the image projected at the foot of the hospital bed.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHow are you doing this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI made the image tap its head. \u201cTelepathy. I have no explanation how or why I have these abilities.\u201d I formed the voice within her auditory cortex, so she perceived it as if it were audible.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou must hate me,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhy not?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI shrugged. \u201cYou\u2019re my mother. And I\u2019m sorry for the things I said, for what I almost did.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s not your fault.\u201d She reached out to touch the image, but her hand passed through it.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s just a projection.\u201d I pointed to her stomach. \u201cI\u2019m really in there.\u201d I smiled.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ll give birth to you. I promise. And I\u2019ll make sure you\u2019re adopted by a good family who\u2019ll love you and raise you well.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe words hurt, but I tried not to show it.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThank you. I know this isn\u2019t fair to you, and I\u2019m so sorry for what happened. If there was any other way…\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI know.\u201d She forced a smile that melted my heart. \u201cI guess I should tell my parents.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDo you think, maybe, you could name me first?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMe?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s customary.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe thought for a moment. \u201cHow about Thomas? My granddad\u2019s middle name.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI love it.\u201d I reached out, the image\u2019s hand passing through hers before fading.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGoodbye,\u201d I said and rested comfortably within my mother\u2019s womb.\n<\/p>\n \n \nAmanda Barns sat passing her phone back and forth between her hands, shifting position every couple of seconds in a vain attempt to get comfortable.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIf you\u2019re not sure\u2026\u201d Thomas said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m sure,\u201d Amanda said, crossing her arms. \u201cI mean, we have to, right?\u201d Thomas\u2019s projection sat across from her in the living room. \u201cYou know, I\u2019m half worried that they won\u2019t be able to see you,\u201d Amanda said. \u201cLike what if you\u2019re just in my head?\u201d She brushed her hand over her swollen belly.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell, you\u2019re about to find out.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nA key rattled and the front door opened. Amanda\u2019s parents stepped in, back from work. They smiled at her and walked into the living room. Dad\u2019s eyes darted to the boy on the couch.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWho\u2019s this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMom and Dad, I have something to tell you.\u201d Amanda breathed deeply. She had thought that telling her parents that she was pregnant at 16 was going to be the most difficult conversation she could have, but it was just the beginning. \u201cThis is my son, Thomas,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n \nMom\u2019s eyes darted between Amanda and the boy. \u201cGrew up awfully fast, didn\u2019t he?\u201d She laughed awkwardly.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, I mean he hasn\u2019t been born yet. He\u2019s not really sitting there. He\u2019s just making you think he is. Like in that movie.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI think what my mother is trying to say,\u201d Thomas began, \u201cIs that I am her unborn fetus. What you perceive as my body is actually a telepathic image I\u2019m creating in the occipital lobe of your brain. What you hear as my voice is likewise an illusion.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nDad stared. \u201cWhat was that again?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nSuddenly, Thomas vanished from his spot on the couch, reappearing again several feet to the left. Mom and Dad\u2019s eyes widened. Thomas disappeared again and reappeared back on the couch, then across the room, then right in front of Mom and Dad who looked like they were about to scream.\n<\/p>\n \nFor a moment, the only noise was the hum of the heater. Then Thomas spoke.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cTelepathic projection. I\u2019m not really here.\u201d He motioned towards Amanda\u2019s belly. \u201cI\u2019m in there.\u201d He smiled. \u201cHello, Grandparents.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nOne month later<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda often dreamed about that night, about Darek. Tonight, the dreams jolted her awake, and she wiped the tears from her eyes, brushing her wrist where the bruises had been.\n<\/p>\n \nShe touched her belly. \u201cTommy?\u201d She shook it. \u201cAre you awake?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nFinally, a small voice in her mind said, What\u2019s up? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI just wanted to say I love you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI love you too, Mother. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nShe shifted position on the bed, trying to fall back asleep. She wondered if Thomas had known she was upset\u2014if he had seen it in the flow of synaptic electricity <\/em>as he\u2019d once explained to her. Not even her mind was private anymore.\n<\/p>\n \n \nAmanda liked pretty clothes and sappy poetry. She liked waking up in the morning before everyone else and watching the sun rise. She liked the smiles on the faces of the handicapped children with whom she worked every Sunday. She liked painting floral patterns on her fingernails with her friends, and she liked Jane Austin novels.\n<\/p>\n \nShe even liked school, or at least she had. Not anymore. She saw the way people looked at her. She wore loose fitting shirts to try to hide it, but they knew. Everyone knew.\n<\/p>\n \nShe grabbed books from her locker for the next class. Two girls stood a couple feet away, casting furtive glances. She couldn\u2019t make out what they were saying beyond one word\u2014slut. <\/em> Amanda drug her fingernails across the cover of her notebook.\n<\/p>\n \nDon\u2019t listen to them, Mother, <\/em>came Thomas\u2019s thought-voice.\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda almost responded out loud. That\u2019d be about the only way to drop her reputation even further: for people to see her talking to herself.\n<\/p>\n \nI know, <\/em>she thought back to him. Did you hear what they were thinking? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nTsk, tsk, Mother. I\u2019m not even born, and you\u2019re already trying to exploit my powers for personal gain? For shame. <\/em>Amanda chuckled. You know we still have to talk about the decision. <\/em>Her smile vanished.\n<\/p>\n \nI\u2019ve already made up my mind, <\/em>she thought.\n<\/p>\n \nYou don\u2019t want to talk? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWe don\u2019t have anything to talk about with that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nAmanda loved her son. She really did. That little voice that called her Mother<\/em> and told her he loved her.\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda loved her son, but she was also afraid of him. He\u2019d promised that he wouldn\u2019t intrude on the privacy of her thoughts, but she\u2019d have no way of knowing if he did.\n<\/p>\n \nShe feared his powers, of what that might do to him. He\u2019d told her once that he could stop people\u2019s hearts\u2014send a command to someone\u2019s brain like how he made people see that telepathic image of his body. The person in her womb could kill her or scramble her brain, and even knowing that he wouldn\u2019t\u2026\n<\/p>\n \nShe liked things to be simple, and nothing was ever simple with Thomas.\n<\/p>\n \nSomeone knocked at her bedroom door. Mom poked her head in.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHey, how\u2019s Thomas?\u201d she asked.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHe\u2019s asleep.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGood.\u201d Mom stepped in, sitting in the chair beside Amanda\u2019s bed. She glanced at Amanda\u2019s phone screen where she was looking at cribs on Amazon.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou\u2019re not raising that child, Honey.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ve made up my mind.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYour Aunt and Uncle have been trying to have a baby for years. They\u2019ll take good care of him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m sure they would, but I don\u2019t care. He\u2019s my son.\u201d She crossed her arms.\n<\/p>\n \nMom\u2019s expression was a mix of frustration and pity. \u201cYou\u2019re 16, sweetheart. You are not ready to raise a child.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda cradled her belly which protruded from her shirt. \u201cTommy isn\u2019t like other children.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd you think that\u2019ll make it easier<\/em>?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda glanced away. \u201cI\u2019m already raising him. He calls me Mother. <\/em>How can I give him up for adoption? It\u2019d break his heart.\u201d Amanda wasn\u2019t entirely sure that last statement was true, but it sounded suitably dramatic.\n<\/p>\n \nMom put her hand on Amanda\u2019s shoulder. She looked like she was about to cry. \u201cI know. I love him, too. He\u2019s one of the family now. I\u2019m not saying you shouldn\u2019t see him or that you can\u2019t be involved, but you shouldn\u2019t have to bear the brunt of raising a child that you didn\u2019t even\u2026\u201d She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around Amanda. \u201cIf I ever see that Darek boy again, I may just kill him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \n\u201cQueen\u2019s Knight to C6,\u201d Thomas said. Amanda moved the piece. \u201cThat\u2019s King\u2019s Knight.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSorry.\u201d She switched the pieces. She sat at the kitchen table with Thomas\u2019s telepathic projection on the other side, a chess board between them.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou\u2019re not getting enough sleep. Is it the dreams still?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThat\u2019s nothing you need to worry about.\u201d Amanda studied the board. \u201cHow\u2019re you so good at chess? I only taught you a month ago.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOf course I worry about you. You\u2019re my mother.\u201d The image reached out its hand as if to touch Amanda\u2019s, but it just passed through.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThat\u2019s nice, but why don\u2019t you let me do the worrying?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou know he can\u2019t hurt you anymore,\u201d Thomas said. \u201cEven if he tried, if he violated the restraining order, I wouldn\u2019t let him hurt you.\u201d Amanda bit her lip.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cLet\u2019s talk about something else,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOkay. Maybe we should talk about the adoption.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ve made up my mind about that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd I don\u2019t get a say?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThomas\u2019s projection stared at her. \u201cLook, I\u2019m just trying to be practical and reasonable. Sixteen is really young, and there are complicating factors\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou want to be raised by people you\u2019ve never met?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, I want to be raised by you, but there are significant issues that I think we need to address. First of all, your age. I\u2019ll be two years old when you begin college. Your parents have done a frankly abysmal job of saving for your education, so you\u2019ll likely have to work full time.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cPlenty of women have gone through college with a child.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cPlenty have, and it\u2019s a great thing, but most of them didn\u2019t have another choice. You do. Additionally, there\u2019s the issue of my health. I have a severe genetic mutation that I don\u2019t fully understand. So far, it has been advantageous, but it could have side effects. What if I need an operation? Multiple operations? What if I develop epilepsy?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda gripped one of the chess pieces so tight that her knuckles turned white.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou know, I don\u2019t feel much like playing right now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIf this is because you feel guilty about the abortion, you know I\u2019ve forgiven you, right?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda blinked away tears. Her voice was a whisper. \u201cI am your mother. You do not get to tell me what to do.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe paused, no doubt evaluating her emotions. \u201cYou\u2019re right. I overstepped my bounds. I apologize for upsetting you.\u201d He was silent as if waiting for a response. \u201cI love you, Mother.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe rose from the table and returned to her room.\n<\/p>\n \n \nThey both apologized that night. Thomas hadn\u2019t been angry though. He was more in command of his emotions than anyone Amanda had ever met. The downside was that he couldn\u2019t understand why everyone else wasn\u2019t as coldly analytical as he was.\n<\/p>\n \nThe next afternoon, Amanda sat by herself at the edge of the school cafeteria, empty tray to the side, painting her nails. She used to like the smell of polish, but today it made her stomach churn.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI was beginning to think you\u2019d dropped off the face of the Earth.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda looked up and smiled. \u201cHey, Janel.\u201d The teenager sat down beside Amanda.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhy haven\u2019t you been sitting with us?\u201d Amanda hadn\u2019t been sitting by them because she didn\u2019t want to talk to anyone. She was going through something no one else understood, and she didn\u2019t want anyone asking her how she felt (as if she knew). Because five months ago, the world had made sense, and today it didn\u2019t.\n<\/p>\n \nBut all that was too much to say. Instead she responded: \u201cI just felt like being alone. Sorry.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nJanel touched Amanda\u2019s shoulder, giving a smile that was probably supposed to look sympathetic. \u201cWe were wondering if you wanted to get ice cream at Chione\u2019s <\/em>with us tonight?\u201d Janel said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m not sure.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cCome on. We haven\u2019t hung out in weeks.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ve been busy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBusy? This is the last free time you\u2019ll have for the next 18 years.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda twitched.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cUnless you\u2019ve, you know, changed your mind about raising it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI don\u2019t think I\u2019ll be able to go.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nJanel shrugged. \u201cSuit yourself.\u201d She rose to leave.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWait.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nJanel turned.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m sorry for ignoring you guys. I\u2019ve just had a lot on my mind. When are you meeting?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nAmanda laughed so hard she thought soda might come out her nose.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd then he just looks at him and says, \u2018And who were you again?\u2019\u201d Six girls around the table roared with laughter.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ve missed this,\u201d Amanda said. \u201cSeeing you guys.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHey, we\u2019re here for you anytime.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThey talked for hours, and Amanda was the last to leave. The parking lot was dark and mostly empty as she walked to her car.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAmanda?\u201d She recognized the voice and whipped around. Darek stared at her from across the lot. For a moment, all was silent, then Amanda pulled the switchblade she\u2019d gotten after the assault from her purse. She flicked it open and held it at arm\u2019s length, trembling.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cStay away,\u201d she said. Darek raised his hands but took a step forward.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAmanda, I\u2026\u201d Suddenly his eyes widened, and he screamed, a bloody, terrible scream. He almost stumbled to the ground, he was in such a hurry as he turned and ran away. Amanda held her knife, transfixed.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThomas, did you do that?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nYes, <\/em>he said. I showed him something, Mother. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe won\u2019t bother you anymore. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda\u2019s hands shook as she returned the knife to her purse and got into her car, locking the door. She began to cry, softly at first, then harder until she was wailing. She put her head to the steering wheel, shoulders heaving.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s all too much, Tommy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI know,<\/em> he said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s not fair. All of this. I didn\u2019t deserve it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nYou didn\u2019t deserve it. No one does. <\/em>They were both silent. I can take it away, you know. The memory of the assault. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nYou\u2019d still know it happened, but you wouldn\u2019t remember the actual event. No more trauma. No more nightmares. Would you like me to do that for you, Mother? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n \nAmanda didn\u2019t tell anyone about seeing Darek again. She slept more soundly that night than she had in months. It was Saturday, and when she finally woke, she went downstairs and found her parents waiting for her along with the image projection of Thomas.\n<\/p>\n \nShe laughed nervously. \u201cIs this an intervention or something?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you sit down with us,\u201d Dad said. Amanda sat. \u201cI know that a lot has happened recently, and the last thing we\u2019d want to do is make things harder for you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThomas continued, \u201cI know that all three of us have talked to you about adoption.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd we just want you to know that this is your decision, and we\u2019ll stand by you no matter what you choose,\u201d Mom said. \u201cWe love you and we support you 100%.\u201d She looked down at Thomas\u2019s projection and smiled. \u201cAll of us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda just stared. It was far from the typical family intervention, but they were far from the typical family. Still, looking from face to face to face, she could see the love in their eyes, and she had to smile. And they sat together in the spring air, parents, daughter, and grandson.\n<\/p>\n \nA family portrait.\n<\/p>\n \n \nI watched the screen with my mother\u2019s eyes. The image was grainy, black and white.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThere\u2019s your baby, Ms. Barns.\u201d I heard the technician\u2019s voice twice, both through my mother\u2019s ears and my own, distorted by amniotic fluid.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWow.\u201d She brushed the screen. Dopamine, oxytocin, and adrenaline flooded her. Neurons fired, transmitting a smattering of emotions.\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda and I had been to ultrasounds before, but seeing my own face was always strange. I\u2019d touched my own face of course, but seeing it was somehow different. I looked so\u2026 normal. Like any other baby.\n<\/p>\n \nThere was no light in my mother\u2019s womb except what trace amount passed through her skin and uterine wall, falling onto my developing retinas. It was a dark, lonely place, and I spent most of my waking hours interacting with the world outside.\n<\/p>\n \nWatch, <\/em>I thought to her. I\u2019ll wave to you. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cLook at that,\u201d the ultrasound technician said. \u201cIt looks like he\u2019s waving.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda laughed at the private joke. I laughed with her, the image of me on the monitor bouncing up and down.\n<\/p>\n \nSuddenly, the door swung open, crashing against the doorstop. Uncle Eric (Amanda\u2019s uncle, my great-uncle) strutted in, tall and wide-grinned. Aunt Delilah followed behind.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSorry I\u2019m late,\u201d he said. \u201cCan\u2019t wait to get a look at my little boy.\u201d He winked at Mother then looked at the monitor and gave a protracted \u201cWow.<\/em>\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAunt Delilah touched Mother\u2019s shoulder. \u201cIt\u2019s good to see you, Amanda.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe smiled. \u201cYou, too.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nUncle Eric put his hand on Amanda\u2019s belly. \u201cWant to give me a kick, Tommy?\u201d I didn\u2019t particularly, but I obliged. My leg spasmed on the ultrasound monitor.\n<\/p>\n \nMother\u2019s amygdala lit up. The synaptic electricity changed pathways. Anger. Sadness. Fear.\n<\/p>\n \nI couldn\u2019t say I blamed her.\n<\/p>\n \n \nThe hardest part was not calling Amanda \u201cMother.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nIt was an open adoption, so it wasn\u2019t like I\u2019d never see her again. All parties had agreed that it would be best for Amanda to remain active in my life, visiting often. But, as far as the law was concerned, Uncle Eric and Aunt Delilah were my father and mother.\n<\/p>\n \nAdoption was for the best. That\u2019s what I\u2019d told Amanda, and that\u2019s what I believed. But Eric and Delilah weren\u2019t my first choice as parents. Nor the second. Amanda and I had pushed for a couple who worked as teachers in her high school (great people), but Grandmother and Grandfather had decided it would be better to keep me in the family. They\u2019d been insistent.\n<\/p>\n \nWe\u2019d told my adopted parents about my abilities. I\u2019d spoken to them. Sat with them as the family dined. They were a financially stable family, fully capable of providing for my physical and emotional needs. They\u2019d wanted a child for years but remained sterile.\n<\/p>\n \nShe didn\u2019t talk about it, but I knew that Amanda, who\u2019d been unsure about adoption from the beginning, was having second thoughts which were beyond my power to assuage. Part of it, I was sure, was the guilt of the abortion, of almost killing me. I\u2019d told her I forgave her, but it still ate at her.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSeeing him on the screen is just incredible,\u201d Uncle Eric said at the table that night, jabbing his French fries with a fork. He turned to my projection. \u201cNot that your hologram isn\u2019t spectacular.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI enjoyed it as well,\u201d I said. Their minds blazed brilliantly. I could watch as a billion neurons fired, as action potentials raced down axons. The building blocks of thought.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI can\u2019t wait for you to get here,\u201d Eric said, taking a bite of his hamburger.\n<\/p>\n \nMy projection gave a cheeky smile. \u201cI thought I was here already.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou know what I mean. To be born. I bet you\u2019re anxious to taste food instead of just watching us eat it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cActually, I can taste Mother\u2019s food through her amniotic fluid.\u201d It was a slip of the tongue, calling her \u201cMother.\u201d Aunt Delilah\u2019s fork clacked against her plate. No one made eye contact for almost a second.\n<\/p>\n \nFinally, Amanda said, \u201cSo Mom, how was work this morning?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nGrandmother happily filled the silence, and in a few minutes, everyone was talking again. If I weren\u2019t a telepath, it would have appeared normal. But I could see something the others couldn\u2019t. A disquiet in the minds of my adopted parents. My physical body twitched.\n<\/p>\n \nNot long after, I excused myself saying I was tired, a reasonable excuse as fetuses sleep for almost 90% of the day. I watched, half conscious, as my Aunt and Uncle exchanged protracted goodbyes.\n<\/p>\n \nMy soon-to-be-father smiled at Amanda. \u201cYou don\u2019t know how much this baby means to us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAs they were leaving, Uncle Eric put his arm around his wife\u2019s shoulder, whispering something inaudible. Her amygdala flared. I had promised myself I wouldn\u2019t read someone\u2019s mind without their permission, but it was a moment of weakness. I found the engram in her short-term memory: \u201cThey better not get cold feet.\u201d His voice was hard.\n<\/p>\n \n \nI don\u2019t trust him. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI\u2019d told Amanda about what Uncle Eric had said. Amanda lay in her bed, resting her sore feet.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI thought you wanted this.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI did. I do. But not them. I just\u2026<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nMy grandparents had told us how desperately my aunt and uncle wanted a child, how hurt they would be if they placed me with another family.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI know what you mean,\u201d Amanda said. \u201cI remember there was a time he played video games against my dad at a family reunion. When Eric lost, he threw the controller against the ground so hard it shattered.\u201d She frowned.\n<\/p>\n \nWhat are you thinking? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDon\u2019t you know?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nNot unless you tell me. I promised you, remember? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m thinking my parents have already made up their minds. I\u2019m thinking that if we disagree, we need to do something about it ourselves.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI was surprised to hear her talk like that. Amanda rarely disobeyed her parents.\n<\/p>\n \nWhat do you have in mind? <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI say we drive over to their house tonight and tell them we\u2019re having second thoughts.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nIt was near dark when Amanda started her car. She was nervous. So was I.\n<\/p>\n \nWe\u2019ll still have to tell your parents eventually, you know.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cLet\u2019s get through this first.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nIt was a 15-minute drive to their house. Amanda pulled into their driveway beside Uncle Eric\u2019s truck.\n<\/p>\n \nWhere\u2019s Aunt Delilah\u2019s car?<\/em> I asked. Amanda shrugged, exiting the car and knocking on the front door. Uncle Eric\u2019s brow creased as he opened it.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAmanda? This is a surprise.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda\u2019s voice was cracked and nervous. \u201cI know, sir. May we come in?\u201d His mind was alight. Fear. Anger. Had he guessed what was going on?\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOf course,\u201d he stepped aside, and Amanda entered.\n<\/p>\n \nHe motioned to a series of packages by the staircase. \u201cWe\u2019ve been ordering clothes for Thomas. Should be getting a crib in the next few days. Before long, we\u2019ll have a room ready for him.\u201d He was still smiling, but there was no mirth behind it.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cActually, I came here to talk about Thomas.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHis smile disappeared.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWe\u2019ve been having second thoughts about the adoption. I\u2019m sorry. I\u2019m so sorry, but we\u2019re not sure you\u2019re the right fit for him. I\u2019m sure you must be upset, but\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, sir, but I\u2019m not sure we can go through with the adoption.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nUncle Eric stared at her. His voice was quiet. \u201cYou promised us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI know. I know I did, but I have to do what\u2019s best for Thomas.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd you don\u2019t think we\u2019ll be best for him?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \u201cThat\u2019s not what I meant.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou meant that I\u2019ll be a bad father. That I can\u2019t care for him. Is that what you meant\u201d His hands tightened into fists.\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda, I think we should go,<\/em> I said to her.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOf course I don\u2019t think that. I just\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnswer me, right now. Are you backing out?\u201d His tone was hostile.\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda stared. She hadn\u2019t seen this side of him.\n<\/p>\n \nDon\u2019t say anything. Get out. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes,\u201d Amanda said. \u201cI\u2019m backing out.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nFor a moment, everyone was silent. Then Uncle Eric\u2019s lips curled into a grin. A grin to freeze blood. \u201cIt\u2019s a joke,\u201d he said. \u201cIt better be a joke, because if not\u2026\u201d He shook his head, moving towards her. Amanda was scared now. She stepped towards the door.\n<\/p>\n \nRun. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nHe stepped forward again, smile gone. \u201cDo you know how long we\u2019ve been wanting a child? How many failed attempts. How many denials by DCS? You\u2019ll break Delilah\u2019s heart if you do this.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAmanda\u2019s eyes widened. She turned, trying to open the door, but Uncle Eric put his hand on it, sealing her in.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou can\u2019t just promise us a child and not deliver. Because that\u2019s what you did. You got our hopes up. Again. And now you\u2019re breaking out hearts. Again.\u201d And suddenly, his hand was around her throat, squeezing so she couldn\u2019t breathe, holding her head against the door. But before she could even react, Eric\u2019s body seized, then became limp, collapsing to the floor.\n<\/p>\n \nA single bundle of neurons\u2014the spinal cord\u2014connected his brain to the rest of his body. A single cord.\n<\/p>\n \nAnd I had severed it. Right beneath the brain stem.\n<\/p>\n \nThe action had been a reflex. An accident that had been over in half a second, before I\u2019d even realized what I\u2019d done. For a moment, all I could do was watch. Without connection to his brain, his heart ceased to beat. His diaphragm no longer contracted, so he couldn\u2019t breathe. Soon, without oxygen neurons would start dying.\n<\/p>\n \nHe was still conscious.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThomas?\u201d Amanda spoke, but I could hardly hear her. \u201cThomas?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nCall 911. Now. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIs he okay?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShut up! Shut up and do what I tell you! <\/em>She dialed the number. Don\u2019t mention me, and don\u2019t mention the attack. Tell them he just collapsed. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI examined the neurons along his spinal cord, but I had damaged them far beyond my ability to fix. I tried activating the nerve cells around his heart, which sputtered, beating once, then twice, before falling silent.\n<\/p>\n \nGod, <\/em> I prayed. I\u2019m not sure if you\u2019re real, but if you are, please, please heal him. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI tried again to restart his heart. And again. And again.\n<\/p>\n \nIt didn\u2019t start.\n<\/p>\n \nI heard Amanda\u2019s panicked voice. Her adrenal gland pumped adrenaline through her body and mine. At the emergency operator\u2019s instructions, Amanda bent down to administer CPR, but I knew it would be too late.\n<\/p>\n \nUncle Eric\u2019s brain was flickering. Entire sections went dark. The great network of his brain, impossibly complex, would soon be silent.\n<\/p>\n \nI\u2019m sorry, <\/em>I said, though I didn\u2019t know if he could still hear me. I am so, so sorry.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nBy the time the ambulance arrived, he was dead.\n<\/p>\n \n \n\u201cHe did this!\u201d Aunt Delilah screamed, pointing at Amanda\u2019s belly. \u201cHe did it! I know he did! You murdered my husband!\u201d The orderlies had her by either arm, dragging her away from where Amanda sat crying, her parents\u2019 arms around her.\n<\/p>\n \nWe sat in the hospital waiting room. In a couple hours there would be questions, accusations. There would be crying and yelling and anger. But for right now there was only comfort, comfort for the teenage girl. Comfort for her son, the killer.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThomas,\u201d Grandmother said. \u201cCan you hear us?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI can feel him moving,\u201d Amanda said.\n<\/p>\n \nPlease say something<\/em>, she thought to me. I forgive you. Just please, talk. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI wasn\u2019t listening. Instead, I sat in the dark, listening to Mother\u2019s heartbeat. Hearing her stomach churn. The sounds of life, sounds which had departed from Uncle Eric and would never return.\n<\/p>\n \n \nWhen you\u2019re a fetus, there\u2019s nothing people can do to make you reply. Amanda told her parents what had happened, and they spent hours trying to talk to me, but I wasn\u2019t listening. Normally, I listened to the world through Amanda\u2019s ears, but I\u2019d retreated from her mind. I could hear their voices with my own ears. Their words were difficult to discern, but their tone was not harsh, nor angry as I\u2019d expected, but frightened and mournful.\n<\/p>\n \nA hand pressed against Amanda\u2019s belly. She said a word that was probably my name.\n<\/p>\n \nPlease, she thought to me, you don\u2019t have to talk. Just let us know you\u2019re okay. If you can hear me, kick. <\/em>I kicked, and after that they left me alone to my tormented dreams.\n<\/p>\n \n \nI woke Amanda near midnight, after her parents had gone to sleep.\n<\/p>\n \nGet up, <\/em>I said.\n<\/p>\n \nTommy, is that you? <\/em>she thought.\n<\/p>\n \ndownstairs. <\/em>She sat for a long moment. I wasn\u2019t monitoring her emotions, so when she did rise, I didn\u2019t know if it was because she was so glad I was finally talking or because she was afraid of me.\n<\/p>\n \nDisable the door alarm, <\/em>I said.\n<\/p>\n \nI don\u2019t know the password. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI told it to her.\n<\/p>\n \nGet in your car.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nIt\u2019s not safe to drive while drowsy. <\/em>I stimulated her brain. She wasn\u2019t tired anymore, but she still didn\u2019t move.\n<\/p>\n \nWhat are you waiting for?\n<\/p>\n \nTommy, I don\u2019t want to do this.\n<\/p>\n \nGet in the car, <\/em>I said.\n<\/p>\n \nPlease, I just want to talk to you. Tell me what\u2019s going on.\n<\/p>\n \nI could make you do it. I could, you know. <\/em>She paused, wondering if I\u2019d actually do that. I didn\u2019t know either. She got in the car. Drive to Aunt Delilah\u2019s house. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nHer hands froze.\n<\/p>\n \nI won\u2019t hurt her. I promise, <\/em>I said.\n<\/p>\n \nPlease, Tommy, I don\u2019t\u2026<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDo it!\u201d I activated her auditory cortex, so she heard my voice out loud.\n<\/p>\n \nShe started the engine. It was several minutes before she spoke again.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt was self-defense,\u201d she said. \u201cHe grabbed my throat. It wasn\u2019t your fault.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI could have stopped him without killing him, <\/em>I said. I could have shut off his legs or rendered him unconscious. In what universe is it not my fault? <\/em>She wasn\u2019t allowed to excuse me. There was no excuse for what I\u2019d done, nor what I was about to do.\n<\/p>\n \nPark on the street to the side, <\/em>I said as we approached the house. She did. A tear rolled down her cheek, and I wished more than anything in the world that I could undo the events of last night. I won\u2019t hurt her. I promise. <\/em>I didn\u2019t know what else to say.\n<\/p>\n \nI reached out with my mind, sensing Aunt Delilah sitting in her living room. I accessed her occipital lobe, creating my telepathic projection.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHello.\u201d Her eyes shot up, heartrate rising. I\u2019d placed my projection on the couch opposite her.\n<\/p>\n \nHer eyes were hard. \u201cYou killed him. We offered you a home, and you killed him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes. Yes, I did kill him. And I am so sorry.\u201d She glared. I don\u2019t think I\u2019d ever felt so much hatred. \u201cWe came to tell him we were having second thoughts about the adoption. He became angry, grabbed Amanda by the throat. I acted purely on instinct. It was an accident.\u201d I searched through her mind. She wasn\u2019t sure if she believed me. But I did find a memory\u2026 \u201cI know he hit you before.\u201d Her expression changed to shock. \u201cMore than once.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDon\u2019t read my thoughts.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m sorry. I just mean that you know he could get angry.\u201d My heart churned. I hated myself in that moment. \u201cLook, the reason I\u2019m here is to ask you to be silent. Nothing matters to me but Amanda. She\u2019s been through too much. She cannot be involved in a murder. And my abilities cannot be revealed. Either option would expose her to dangers that I can\u2019t control. So, I\u2019m asking you to keep quiet.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou think you can just get away with a murder?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHe had his hands around the throat of a pregnant child.\u201d It was the wrong thing to say.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOh, you care so much about her, huh? Her parents said you shut off her legs once. Wouldn\u2019t let her walk. How is that caring for her?\u201d If I were grown, with a physical body present in the room, I would have grimaced with guilt. But I remained in perfect control over my projection\u2019s body language, and it remained calm-looking.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI was protecting myself then,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDid you drag her here? Your powers are ranged, right? Is she outside in the car? Alone?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe was. From my physical body in her womb, I could hear her crying.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI could show you my memories of the events,\u201d I said. \u201cI don\u2019t suppose that would change your mind?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou think I trust you poking around my brain?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, I suppose you wouldn\u2019t.\u201d I paused, thinking. \u201cIf you won\u2019t respond to reason, I will have to threaten you. I\u2019m sorry I have to do this, but all I care about is Amanda, and you are a threat to her safety.\u201d Each of my next words took a piece out of my soul. \u201cWhat do you fear, Delilah? Falling? Drowning? Being buried alive? All of those sensations, all the sights, sounds\u2014all of them are processed neurologically by the brain. That means I can replicate them. The same way I cause you to perceive this body, I can make you feel like you\u2019re drowning. For hours and hours and hours. Pain, likewise, is controlled neurochemically in the mind. So is fear. And guilt. I can implant false memories. I can convince your brain that you killed your husband. And I will do all of that to you if you tell anyone that I killed Uncle Eric. Do you understand?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAdrenaline filled her veins. Her fight or flight reflex was active, but there was no way for her to fight me, nor anywhere she could run.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou\u2019re a psychopath,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHer hands trembled.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDo we have a deal?\u201d Her nod was so slight it could have been mistaken for a twitch. \u201cWonderful. Then I see no reason to discuss this further.\u201d I left her mind, my projection disappearing from her couch.\n<\/p>\n \nMy heart was made of lead. I wondered whether I should kill myself.\n<\/p>\n \nI formed my projection again in Amanda\u2019s mind. She saw me sitting in the car beside her.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI threatened her. I said horrible things.\u201d My body twitched in her womb. In that moment, I knew I wasn\u2019t something more than human, but something far less. Something dark and twisted. I wished I were dead.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMommy.\u201d The image of the projection distorted and faded. I was unable to keep it going.\n<\/p>\n \nMommy, <\/em>I said. I\u2019m so sorry, Mommy. I\u2019m so, so sorry, Mommy. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOh, Tommy\u2026\u201d My body shook. \u201cIt\u2019s okay. It\u2019s going to be okay.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI didn\u2019t know what to do. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI understand. I understand you.\u201d And she did. More than anyone else, she did.\n<\/p>\n \nMommy, hold me. <\/em>And she cradled her womb as I thrashed and sobbed. And in that moment, I was exactly what I had looked like on that ultrasound\u2014not a god but a child. A child in his mother\u2019s arms.\n<\/p>\n \nI felt her soothing touch. Alone together.\n<\/p>\n \nMother and son.\n<\/p>\n Matt Hollingsworth is an author, freelance editor, and English tutor from Knoxville, TN. He has published several short stories, including one in an anthology from Owl Hollow Press. He enjoys discussing C. S. Lewis books and Delighting in the Trinity by Michael Reeves. Follow his blog at https:\/\/jmhollingsworthblog.wordpress.com\/.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" First Trimester: Awake My first memory was of neurons. My mother\u2019s. A great network of electric cables carrying signals across her body. I was encased within an intricate mechanism. I was aware of my mother before I was aware of myself, but as awareness rolled in like the tide, my gaze turned inward, and I …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":27945,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,20094],"tags":[20095],"class_list":["post-138815","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-43-spring-2022","tag-the-colored-lens-43-spring-2022","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138815","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/27945"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=138815"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138815\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":138817,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138815\/revisions\/138817"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=138815"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=138815"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=138815"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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