Chapter 10

Were you born to resist or be abused?
Is someone getting the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith?
It’s real, the pain you feel
The hope that starts, the broken hearts
Your trust, you must
Confess
~ ‘Best of You’ by the Foo Fighters

Regan and Robyn locked eyes for a long moment, and then Regan broke it by looking down. She was still clutching Robyn’s shoe. She thrust her hand out holding the shoe to Robyn.
Robyn went to take it, and then hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Regan could float it to the ground, but it felt like a bad time to ask. She realized it took a lot of balls to do what she did and not know how Robyn would react, and she didn’t want to mess with that right now. So she took her shoe and silently slipped it back on her foot.
She couldn’t get over the giddiness of seeing someone do that, though. That was by far the most amazing thing she’d ever seen - well, amazing in a good way. She’d seen a lot of amazing bad things, but this struck her as its opposite - she had a gut feeling that, like Regan said, she wouldn’t harm anyone with it.
But if she had a gift like this, why hadn’t she succeeded in escaping yet? How gifted was she?
Robyn suddenly became aware that she was staring and not speaking to Regan, who in turn was giving her a slightly strange look. Robyn ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry. Just thinking. So, whatever you want to tell me, feel free. I’m as good as listening as I am at talking,” she finished with a smile. Please, trust me enough to tell me. I want to know.
Regan opened her mouth, and then closed it. She rubbed the skin of an arm lightly with her hand. “I came here in October. Near Halloween.” She paused and looked up at Robyn. “What month is it?”
Sadly, because Regan seemed to genuinely not know, Robyn replied, “It’s the middle of June.”
Regan’s face remained blank, but her jaw clenched and she diverted her eyes away. Robyn felt awful for her. She couldn’t imagine being in this place that long.
Regan was looking at her hands again. Her voice was quiet, and Robyn had to lean in to hear her. “You’re the first person to visit me since I got here . . . without wanting something.”
Robyn tried to imagine what that was like, and couldn’t. “Do they . . . make you do things? What do the doctors here do?”
Regan’s eyes became unfocused for a long moment, and then she cleared them. “I didn’t cooperate at first.” Robyn caught a very faint accent in Regan’s voice, since the past twenty minutes was the most she’d heard Regan speak. Since the girl wrote French and could probably speak it, she assumed the trace of accent was French.
“Why?” Robyn asked. “Why are they doing this? What are they trying to learn?”
Regan lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Everything. What makes me tick. They want to see what I showed you.” She paused, for a long moment, looking so miserable that Robyn wanted to hug her.
“Have you? Showed them, I mean.”
“Not at first. Not for months. I didn’t want to give them what they wanted. I didn’t know what would happen to me then. So I didn’t, and they just . . . kept me here. I . . . after four months, I . . . I realized they had no plans on letting me go.” It was hard to talk about, Robyn could see that. Because talking about it made it real, that much she knew. It looked like Regan was realizing that just now. The girl blinked rapidly. “So I started giving them what they wanted.” What looked like shame crossed her pretty features.
“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” Robyn said. “You’ve been here for eight months. If it were me, I would’ve showed them a lot sooner, just to shut them up.”
“It didn’t. They just want more. I knew they would.”
Robyn shook her head in disbelief, still appalled that the doctors and whoever had the gall to lock someone away like this and poke and prod as they pleased. She listened to Regan’s faint accent and asked, “Are you even from the United States? Where did they take you from?”
“I’ve been in America for seven years. Still waiting to be impressed,” Regan said, rather dryly, coaxing a smile out of Robyn.
“Are you from Europe?”
“I lived in France when I was little.”
That would explain the trace of an accent. “How did you end up in America?”
“Like you did. Only, my father died. He wanted me sent to America. My mother didn’t have custody of me, so I went.”
Robyn wanted to know more about that, but Regan didn’t seem inclined to talk about it. “Are you still in high school?” Which meant she would have missed a whole year of it. Assholes.
Regan shook her head no. “I’m eighteen, and I graduated early.” She gestured with her hands. “Like a diploma means something in here.”
Robyn tried to word her next question as gently as possible. “How did the doctors here find out you could do this?”
Regan was still looking at Robyn, so she couldn’t miss the sadness creeping in her eyes, onto her face. “I trusted the wrong person.”
I know the feeling, Robyn thought dismally. “You told someone else about what you can do?”
Regan closed her eyes and shook her head. “It wasn’t that simple. It’s . . . hard to keep a secret like this from someone you’re living with.”
“A foster parent?” Regan nodded. Horrified, Robyn asked why. After all, she knew foster parents weren’t the greatest, but there’s just some things you don’t do - like throw your foster child to the dogs.
Regan shook her head slowly. “I’ve asked myself that a lot.”
Robyn had a billion questions for Regan, and was afraid to ask the wrong ones lest Regan not want to answer and stop talking altogether.
“Why did you show me?”
Regan opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. She couldn’t look at Robyn, and her voice shook slightly when she spoke.
“You’ve been more honest with me than anyone I know. It felt wrong not to be honest back. And … you’ve treated me like a person.”
Well, that did it. Robyn gave in to her urge. She reached over and wrapped her arms around Regan, pulling her in tightly for a hug. She felt Regan stiffen in surprise. And then, hesitantly, Robyn felt the other girl’s arms go around her and rest lightly on her back.
“I meant what I said,” Robyn told her, voice slightly muffled by the girl’s shirt. She pulled back, and smiled at Regan’s slightly stunned expression. “About needing a friend. I would like to be your friend. If that’s okay.”
For a long moment, they stared at one another. And then, Regan’s lips curved, fleetingly; a ghost of a smile. It was a start, and it made Robyn feel pretty good.
It also occurred to Robyn that she still didn’t know how Regan knew about Thora. “You never told me how you knew about Thora’s depression.”
“The only reason I know of Thora’s condition,” Regan started out slowly, “is because I felt it. I’m really good at reading emotions. I can sense them.”
Robyn hadn’t been expecting that answer. “So when Thora went from happy to depressed, you . . . felt that? So, are you like a psychic, too?”
“No. It’s called empathy. I’m not a mind reader - I can’t pick up thoughts. Just emotions.”
Robyn was stunned. So Regan knew every emotion Robyn was feeling? Well, that was a little weird. Okay, it was very weird “So you know what I’m feeling right now?”
“To an extent.”
“What am I feeling?”
“Disturbed and fascinated.” Robyn stared at her, and she could see this amused Regan a little. She wasn’t sure if she liked this particular gift of Regan’s.
“So you can pick up the emotions of everyone in this hospital?”
Regan nodded, subdued again. “Within a certain distance.”
Robyn knew she was staring at her like she’d sprouted a second nose, but she couldn’t help it. “Doesn’t that drive you crazy? I can barely handle my own emotions, let alone someone else’s. A lot of someone else’s.”
Regan took a deep breath. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Since she didn’t seem inclined to continue, Robyn left that alone for now. “ So what other tricks can you pull out of your bag?”
Regan shook her head ruefully. “That’s my repertoire. Now you see why I’m here.”
And Robyn did. She understood the research facility’s fascination with Regan, why they were obsessed with her. She understood, but she certainly didn’t agree with it. Now she got why they isolated Regan, too, why she was never around the other girls - these doctors believed Regan was dangerous, and probably with good reason. She had only shown Robyn a little trick with her shoe, but she had a feeling the girl was capable of a lot more.
Regan suddenly turned her head and looked at the door. Puzzled, Robyn followed her gaze, and watched as the door unlocked and swung open. A nurse and an orderly came in, and Robyn felt Regan tense next to her.
“Time for your medicine, Regan.”
Regan was shaking her head, and Robyn didn’t need to be an empath to see that she was dreading this.
“Why does she have to take it?” Robyn asked, feeling irritation and anger towards the nurse. “It’s the middle of the day.”
The nurse didn’t answer her, and instead held out her hand to Regan, holding a small cup of light purple liquid. “Regan, let’s not put up a fuss with your friend here. Dr. Corbett’s orders.” Regan didn’t want to take it. Robyn watched, helpless, as the nurse all but ganged up on the girl, who was scooting herself back on the bed to get away from the vile medicine.
“Would you rather we put this in your dinner?”
Regan stiffened and glared at the nurse. She grabbed the cup from her and, looking much like a child facing the dreaded cough medicine, downed the liquid, making a slight face as it went down. The nurse took the cup, and as fast as they were in the room, the nurse and orderly were gone.
“What did they give you?” Robyn asked.
Regan swallowed and put a hand to her head. “Thorazine.” At Robyn’s blank look, Regan explained. “Antipsychotics. Tranquilizers. Keeps me . . . calm. Relaxed. I don’t want to be,” she said, a fierce tone in her voice. “But it comes anyway. Makes it hard to think. So . . . relaxed that I don’t -“
“That you don’t care,” Robyn supplied quietly, and Regan nodded. That she wouldn’t care enough to try and escape. Robyn suddenly felt very sorry for Regan, and angry at the same time, helpless anger at the bastard doctors who could do this to someone.
“It hits fast. I’ll fall asleep on you.”
“Can’t you . . . can’t you use your powers or something? I mean, you can move anything with your mind, right? Why not use it to keep them and their drugs away from you?”
Regan lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I have tried. I have tried to escape. Robyn, it’s not that simple. I’ve used force. They just bring someone in with a tranquilizing dart.” Robyn winced. “Or they blindfold me. Or they keep me constantly drugged so I care about nothing.” Regan was getting agitated; her accent was a little stronger, and there was frustration in her voice. “Believe me, I have tried. It’s never enough.”
As she finished the last sentence, Robyn became aware of a change in her. Regan stopped talking and slowly closed her eyes and then opened them. She put a hand to her head and shook her head a little. Her pale green eyes were becoming clouded.
“Maybe you should lie down,” Robyn suggested, feeling pathetic for not being able to offer anything else.
Regan closed her eyes again, breathed deeply. “I hate this part.”
Robyn watched as the tranquilizer began to affect Regan, helpless as the girl’s movements became lethargic and all Regan could do was hold on to the bed and breathe shakily.
Feeling sick at heart, Robyn coaxed her to lie down, and Regan did as she was told. Her eyes grew more and more unfocused, and her responses to Robyn’s questions became slow and then, indifferent and monotone. She watched as Regan went from a reserved, slightly odd, and vulnerable girl to a listless, zombie-like vegetable that, near the end, had a hard time comprehending what Robyn was saying. When Regan fell asleep against the onslaught of the drug, Robyn didn’t move from her side.
It took Robyn long minutes to process everything she’d learned within the past half hour or so. Regan was special. So special that a bunch of doctors felt it necessary to lock her away for months upon months to figure out why she could these things, and beat her into submission with drugs and rooms no bigger than prison cells. They were both special for completely different reasons, and not good ones.
In the past month, Robyn had learned that while she knew the world was an ugly place, she didn’t know its ugliness and meanness went as deep as this. It was hard being reminded that people could be as evil as demons themselves. This wasn’t fair. In what world could people do this? Stealing someone’s freedom for the sake of science?
Regan looked as defenseless as Robyn felt as she slept, and without thinking, Robyn brushed a few dark strands away from the girl’s face.
“How do I get you out of here?” Robyn whispered to the sleeping girl.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Robyn couldn’t help but look at the nurses on her floor in a new light when she got back to her floor. Regan was a resident of this floor - how much did they know? Did they condone the captivity of a teenage girl for scientific purposes, or did they just not know? Angelina seemed to know quite a bit, and if she did know what was really going on, Robyn would be disappointed. She liked Angelina. She was starting to get really pissed off at how wrong her assumptions of people had been in the last month or so.
Seriously, though - how did she even hope to get Regan out of here? The thought of knowing about Regan’s situation, and eventually leaving this hospital with Regan still in it upset her. She knew how it felt to feel like there was nothing she could do about her situation, that it was never going to get better, and she’d found someone who was in a similar situation. She still firmly believed they could help each other. She just didn’t know how yet.
“This steak tastes like it came from a diseased cow.”
Pulled from her thoughts, Robyn stared at Jill. Oh, right. Dinner. She couldn’t hide a snicker at that comment, though, and neither could Evan. Robyn saw a shadow of a smile come across Ehrinn’s face, before abruptly disappearing.
“They couldn't afford to give us healthy ones,” Aurelie interjected softly, a wisp of a grin stealing across her face.
“It does taste like shit,” Evan agreed. “We should complain.” Despite a few others’ protests at the table, Evan shouted, “HEY! Where are the cooks in this place?”
Jill looked amused, and Ehrinn and Robyn just rolled their eyes. A nurse came quickly over due to Evan's shouting, and immediately tried to shush her.
“I'm not making a scene,"” Evan argued with her, and then lifted her plate. “Have you tasted this stuff?”
The nurse sighed. “And what exactly is wrong with the food?”
“It tastes like shit.”
“Miss Knollys,” the nurse said with a warning tone.
“Well, have you?”
“Have I what?” the woman replied in a tired tone.
“Tasted this stuff? If you had, you wouldn’t want to eat it either. What meat factory was this cow slaughtered at, cause it tastes like they pissed on it before they packaged it out.”
Robyn’s eyebrows raised as her and Aurelie gaped at the extremely blunt teenager. The others didn’t seem too surprised, however - apparently the meat routinely sucked.
“That's enough, Miss Knollys,” the woman countered sternly. “If you keep making vulgar remarks like this, I’m afraid we’ll-“
“Have to upgrade my meds, I know,” Evan replied dully, then sighed and pushed her plate away. “Fine. I'm done. Have fun eating your dirty cows, ladies.” She glared at the nurse who was staring back at her in irritation before pushing away from the table and standing up. She smirked in Robyn’s direction as she strutted off, and the nurse shook her head after her.
“That girl,” Ehrinn sighed before forking a scoop of mashed potatoes and eating.
“Is that Thora’s plate?” Aurelie asked Robyn.
Robyn looked down at the saran wrapped plate of food next to hers, courtesy of the nurses. “Yeah. They think she’ll eat it if I give it to her.”
Jill rolled her eyes. “She’ll just throw it at you. She turns into a supreme bitch when she’s depressed.”
Like you are all the time? Robyn asked silently. She ignored the other redhead, forced a few more bites of dinner down, and proceeded to bring Thora her food. When she reached her room, she opened the door quietly and peered in, unsure of what she would find.
Thora was sitting up in bed, legs dangling off the side. Her blonde hair hung lump around her face and her posture was slouched.
Robyn let herself in. “Thora?” Thora didn’t react. “I brought you your dinner.” She stood there, feeling awkward, and finally walked forward. “I’ll just put it on the dresser.” She slid the plate on the wood. Thora’s back was to her, and she moved around the bed to face her. When she sat, Thora’s eyes slowly met Robyn’s.
“What do you want?” The blonde’s voice was hoarse, as if she had been yelling.
Robyn couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “This is my room, too.”
Thora sighed and pulled her legs up onto the bed. She wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees, looking ten instead of fifteen. It reminded Robyn just how young this girl really was.
“Leave me alone,” she whispered, tone miserable.
Robyn ignored her request. “So this is a depressive episode.” Thora nodded and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “How long will it last?”
Apparently that was the wrong question to ask. Thora’s blue eyes filled with tears, and she began to cry into her knees.
Alarmed, Robyn immediately tried to get her to stop. “I’m sorry, Thora - I shouldn’t have asked. Please stop crying.” At a loss while Thora cried, she frantically searched the room and found a box of Kleenex on the dresser. Snatching it up, she pulled out a few and handed them to Thora.
Robyn awkwardly patted her shoulder while she cried, alternating between that and rubbing her back. I don’t know if I can do a couple weeks of this. This place is so depressing. Somewhere she had read the quote “madness begets madness,” although she couldn’t remember who said it. It fit, though. She swore she felt like she was losing it around these people.
When Thora quieted down, Robyn grabbed one last tissue and wiped the tears off of her face, using maternal instincts she wasn’t aware that she had. “Your food’s getting cold. Come on and eat some.” Thora nodded, and scooted herself back on her bed while Robyn got her food. She ate slowly, and Robyn filled the unnatural quiet of the room with her own chatter. Every time she paused, the silence filled the room again. Robyn found herself missing the old Thora desperately.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The world was unfocused and hazy when Regan opened her eyes again. The room wasn’t bright, but dark. And she was alone. Regan felt an unconscious tightening in her chest, and wondered why. She blinked slowly to bring everything in focus.
When had she slept?
Brow furrowed, she desperately tried to remember. What had she been doing? She reached up and clutched her head with her hands. God, if she could just think straight. Think. But it was so hard. Every time she pulled in one thought, it would slip away, and she was left wondering why the room was dark and what she’d done this time to have to come here.
She laid there for a good fifteen minutes, working her mind through the haze and back into reality. It was difficult, but she managed to hold on to her thoughts for longer than a couple of seconds and remember.
Bright red hair. Robyn.
Regan felt her heart lift a little at the mental image of the girl, in a way it hadn’t lifted in almost nine months. She talked - a lot. But she cared. Regan didn’t need to feel for the emotions, but rather, they had come to her.
She’d been curious when Robyn first came in to visit. She didn’t know she’d caught this girl’s attention, but Robyn was as equally fascinated with her. And the girl talked - and talked and talked. And Regan listened, fascinated. Robyn’s emotions rose and fell with her stories, but there were a few constants - bitterness when she spoke of her foster homes, longing when she spoke of Cye, this childhood friend that she seemed to revere above all else. But underneath it all was a constant fear of something, a dread. When she spoke of the thing that happened to her that no one would believe, Regan knew that was it. If it landed her in this hellish place, it had to be a big deal.
She sat up slowly and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. She hated this room. Hated maximum security. Now she remembered why her chest felt tight. No other place on earth made her feel as claustrophobic as this room did, and she swore they knew it. Every time she tried to escape, they’d put her in here for longer. Last time it was over a week, and she dreaded to find out how long they would keep her here this time.
Regan’s thoughts stopped. Someone was coming towards her room. Two people. She contemplated lying back down and pretending to be asleep, but before she made up her mind, the door opened, and light poured in.
The man and woman in the doorway paused at its threshold, staring apprehensively. She recognized the woman as one of the doctor’s nurses, but she couldn’t remember her name. The man, however, she knew; Dr. Rothchild, Dr. Corbett’s assistant. And they obviously hadn’t expected her to be awake. The fact that they were uneasy and a little afraid gave Regan a small amount of pleasure.
“Regan,” the woman spoke. “We need to take you down to the lab.”
She fought the urge to bare her teeth at the woman. “I don’t want to.”
“Dr. Corbett has promised you’ll be able to return to your room sooner.”
Dr. Corbett was a liar. So she told the woman so.
“It’s a small test, Regan,” Dr. Rothchild put in. “And then you can go back to sleep.”
“I’ve been sleeping all day.”
“Miss Mendola.” The doctor’s voice took on an edge, and Regan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re in maximum security, and in no position to negotiate. If you perform these tests, we won’t give you anymore Thorazine for the night. You’re free to roam this room all night if you wish.”
Her instantaneous anger at this man had her blurting out without thinking, “I’m not doing a damn thing until I can go back to my room.”
The two in the doorway were silent. With no other comment, Dr. Rothchild and the nurse stepped back into the hallway and shut the door. Instead of feeling like she’d accomplished something with them, she felt a little ill and deflated. She had a feeling she didn’t do herself any favors by snapping at the doctor.
She used to be able to tell herself that they couldn’t possibly do anything to make her start talking about her empathic abilities and using Psychokinesis, but Jesus, had they proven her wrong. There was plenty they could do, had done.
She finally gave in four months ago because it hurt not to. Not just what they were doing. She didn’t think that alone would have done it, although what they were starting to threaten frightened her. She could handle not being allowed outside, stuck in the room they decorated and placed her in for weeks. She could handle sitting in the same room in front of a metal bowl, being coaxed by the doctors on the other side of the two-way glass to move it, do something with it. They hadn’t appreciated her moving it around with her hands. So they sat her in that room for hours, occasionally turning the heat up or down to persuade her, but Regan could be just as patient. She had gotten very good as a child at allowing her mind to wander for as long as she needed.
She even handled it when they brought her to the sensory-deprivation tank. She had no idea what the hell it was when she first saw it - a large gray tank with steps leading up to a hatch on one side, inside a gray room with gray carpet and gray doors. They explained to her that there was water in there, and that she would float - for hours - to work on her empathic abilities and shields.
That hadn’t been so bad. It had even been relaxing. And in a way, it had even helped her.
But she still refused to move things, and that was what they really wanted. Regan became truly afraid of these people for the first time when one of the doctors had sat her down and told her they could keep her constantly drugged on Thorazine - constantly unaware of where she was, disoriented, indifferent; almost vegetable-like. She would’ve rather died. And then they mentioned something called ‘aversion therapy’ devices. She had no idea what that was until Dr. Corbett showed her.
Shock therapy.
So she gave in. But not just for their sake. Not only because they had the power to render her a step above mentally disabled with their drugs. But because she was curious. The doctors had spent so much time the first four months ensuring that she could use her ability without harming herself - or inadvertently others - by building up shields and the like . . . and then she became curious as to what she could do with her shields in place.
It wasn’t just that, either, if she was honest with herself. She’d gotten restless. She loathed this place, sitting in rooms, not doing anything - but another part of her loathed it even more. Her mind felt useless and restless. She’d never gone so long without doing the slightest bit with her ability, and it was wearing on her. Not using her mind was starting to hurt.
The moment she had done something, had used all that pent-up energy, she felt such relief that it nearly frightened her.
As it had frightened the doctors. They had placed that metal bowl in front of her, a camera on the other side of the mirror, and Dr. Corbett had smiled the smile that made her want to eviscerate him with anything handy, and told her he would stay in the room.
She had told him differently. “I think you’d better leave. I can’t promise something won’t happen.” The light went out in the man’s eyes and he had left the room rather quickly.
She remembered staring at that bowl, feeling the unused energy gathering up in her, and it almost physically hurt to keep it all in. She hadn’t just pushed at the bowl - she shoved at it.
It had exploded off the table, cracking in half and hurling towards the opposite wall, where it hit with such force that both halves were embedded deep in the steel.
They were afraid of her after that. No one could really look her in the face, let alone touch her anymore. But Dr. Corbett and Dr. Rothchild had been so elated, had just gushed about it, and they demanded more immediately.
Now it was a control issue. ‘You do this and we’ll give you this’, ‘I’ll only move that if you let me do this.’ She hated it.
Almost as much as she hated this damn room. Regan swung her legs over to the floor, hissing at the freezing tiles under her bare feet. She stood up and stretched, her body still feeling lethargic from the medicine. Maybe if she walked this off she’d be more alert.
So Regan paced the small room. She already knew how many of her footsteps it would take to get from one end to the other. If she walked normally, it took her eight steps to go the length of the room, and five steps to go the width. If she went heel to toe, it was twelve steps by nine steps. She couldn’t pace for very long, though. The lack of space was starting to drive her crazy, like it always did. And she wanted some light.
Regan paused by her bed and looked up at the unlit fluorescent lights. She felt the slight rush go through her body, hum down into her hands. Reaching, feeling, she found the spark it would take to turn them on, and gave a very gentle push.
Light flooded the room, and Regan continued her pace, although much slower and letting her thoughts drift away from this stupid, small room that drove her slowly crazy.
She wanted to talk to Robyn. She wanted the girl’s company.
Regan paused, surprised at herself. This was new. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone in almost a year. It had never occurred to her to try and be friendly with the girls on her floor that she rarely got to see, anyway. It had hurt too badly to even try - those girls weren’t here permanently and she, it seemed, was. Why make friends with people she’d eventually lose? But now, she surprised herself by really wanting to be friends with this girl. Robyn made her realize how lonely she was.
She felt a rush of gratitude for Robyn. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had simply talked to her because they wanted to. It was nice, and she wanted more of it. She wished Robyn would come visit her sometime soon. Having her in this room made it a lot more bearable, and the emotions coming off in waves from the girl were confusing and refreshing.
Regan sat down, unaware of the small smile forming.
And Robyn had hugged her.