New York is nothing like what she thought it was going to be. For someone so small, so young, the city is larger than life. Loud, congested. It's all so much. She's never understood what it's like to drown, but she wonders if this might be something similar.
There's so much pain. None of it belongs to her. The landlady's bird is sick ––– probably dying. Some woman on the second floor's heart's been broken. A man on the street has lost his job and his family all in one day. Tina's thinking about their parents and how much she's dreading leaving for Ilvermorny. Auntie is panicking over how to care for two girls when she has minimal experience actually raising children.
The thoughts all flood into her head at once, voices mixing and mashing together until she can't tell what's being thought and what's being said. Who is it that's dealing with a potential eviction? Too much, too much, too much.
She thinks her head might actually explode and there's no relief granted once inside her aunt's apartment. Perching on the end of her new bed –– it's awfully stiff –– she rests her elbows on her knees and cradles her head in her hands. It's all she can do not to curl up into a ball.
Crying doesn't relieve the pressure. If anything, it makes her headache worse. Makes her eyes burn and amplifies the pain she feels. She can't distinguish what's her pain and what belongs to the people outside the small apartment.
Queenie figures she just needs time. She's in a new place, surrounded by people she's never met, and dealing with her own pain that's entirely new to her. In a couple days, she'll adjust. This will pass.
But in three days, she's still overstimulated. Other people's pain confuses her ––– it's so much stronger than her own. Her sadness over mama and papa passing had hurt, but not as much as this. This is more than just pain ––– this is agony. Even nighttime brings no relief ––– if anything, it's worse. New York doesn't stop for anything, not even an eight year old laying in bed trying to process more than she should even be exposed to.
Auntie doesn't understand. She panics more hearing about Queenie's headaches and calls in the healers. Queenie begs Tina not to tell Auntie what's happening. She sobs and begs her sister not to tell their aunt that she'd heard their parents thoughts just moments before they'd passed. That she'd had to listen as their thoughts trailed off before going silent. That she heard thoughts and feelings from everyone nearby ––– especially the pain. Almost exclusively the pain.
"What is wrong with me?"
She clings to her sister, tears streaming down her cheeks as her head continues to pound away. Teenie's convinced she has to tell Auntie. Auntie's convinced the healers need to know. Queenie's convinced that not even the healers can help ( they hadn't been able to help her parents, had they? )
Auntie buys a book about something called Legilimency and tries to explain. It doesn't sound quite right though. The book talks about studying and learning and a complicated skill ––– nothing like what Queenie is experiencing ––– that just showed up one day uninvited and decided to stay. But soon Auntie's thoughts get quieter. Calmer. Not so overwhelming.
And Queenie starts to learn how to tune it out. It doesn't work completely ––– she can still hear most people's thoughts and it's hard to tune out people that are hurting, but it's not so overpowering. She can't control everything, but she's finally starting to feel like maybe ––– just maybe ––– she can manage.