I awoke a while later. The knife in all its serrated beauty resting gently in my palm, hanging lazily to my side. I think back to where I was, and even as it slowly drifts away, I know within it I was happy. I look up, the window above my head, to see not even an inkling of light coming though the window. Its still either very late or very early. I look upon my wrist to see the bright red blood faded to a crimson fate, the knife having done no better. I don't know why I do this any more. I used to be so stable, so happy, now all I see is the darkness closing in from all sides. I see all the horrors, the mines, the traps, the demons, but most importantly the devil. I look within my hand, wondering when I turned it dark red. I suppose it bothers me not, as it merely allows for yet another release... I feel like what I'm doing is futile. As if what I'm doing is worthy of only more self hatred. I guess that's how the world works...
I force her on the table, shoulders pinned and head flat. She isn't struggling, as much as she is wondering what's going on. I rest my hand upon her forehead. I feel the energy of thoughts passing to and fro. After a short while I slowly encapsulate how her mind works and begin to follow her thoughts. Reading minds isn't as people imagine it to be, its a lot like standing on the side of a free way and reading the licence plates of every car that passes. You can see the cars coming, but that doesn't help much in seeing what the licence plate actually is, not to mention the magnitude of cars flying past...Still, if you only concentrate on for example blue cars, it becomes a lot more easier. That's what I'm doing now, I'm listening to her minds ability to comprehend pain to find where her problem is... I see that she's receiving pain from her abdomen. I lift up her shirt a slither and apply the band aid. She looks at me wondering how I knew where her scratch was, as she slowly hands me the $5 bet, and asks how I knew. "I can read minds" I tell her. She asks me to do it again for another scratch she'll make...
I always fear what people think of me. Not only do they have a tendency to keep thoughts to themselves, but more often than not when they are doctored and not pure of form. I often fear I've let people down, that I've done something wrong and they choose not to tell me. You see I think it derives from my bitch of a mother, who upon many a joyous occasion, tells me EVERYTHING I do wrong, and hence I have gained a habit of searching for every tiny, insignificant thing that I might disappoint her with. Still, it has allowed me to be there for many people, as I often find the thing they didn't think of, and therefore solve many a problem for people, but not many for myself. If only I could see what people were thinking, not only would I know who to trust, avoid, and love, but I'd know the truth. Because I know they think I'm pathetic, there just to nice to say it.
I go looking through her mind again. I slowly read the thoughts, becoming more and more accurate. She hasn't cut herself, but she's pinching her fingertip. I tell her of my discovery, and she does nothing but stare. I tell her I'm just awesome like that. She asks it of me one more time. Already it's becoming old to me, but I suppose once more to conclude her testing of my abilities. I giver her a minute, rest my hand upon her head, and read her thoughts. After a few seconds I realise that there is nothing to do with pain, but there are many thoughts I'm not paying attention to that are somehow, flagged, in a sense. I divert my attention and after another few seconds realise its her asking if I can hear her. The bitch figured it out. I stop chasing after those thoughts and look though her feelings of pain one more time to see if I can find something I missed. I feel a sensation, not from her, but from within me. I builds upwards. I'm going to sneeze... I sneeze to the side, away from her. I feel my head come alive with the few moments stress. As I do, I discover something I didn't know I could do, I create thoughts. I see her mind come alive with activity, and distracted by this I watch what I have created unfold, before seeing the new thoughts for what they are. Thoughts of pain flood her mind. I hear her scream.
I smile. A gentle smile, but none the less I do. I'm scared of myself sometimes. I take pleasure in things I really shouldn't, but the ability to both read and implant thoughts would be of great used to me. I pull myself together, I really need to get some sleep, else tomorrow will be horrible and I'll just wind up doing this whole thing again anyway. I pull my hands together and rest my forehead upon them. I feel a headache brewing. I slide the knife into the usual spot and lie down. I'm already falling asleep, but that doesn't mean my mums any less of a bitch.
I arrive home, troubled by what I had created. I hear yelling from the other room. I was hoping mum would be asleep. I walk to my room, thankfully undetected, before going to tell her I'm home. She looks at me with a nice, sincere smile. Everything's ok... The TV's on, the suns shining, mum's smiling, and my brother is slowly walking out of the room with more than a tear or two in his eye. I hope he's ok. Her smile disappears as she recognises me. I listen to what she says with a keen ear, knowing that one mistake could be fatal... I look at her, no longer being mean, but extremely instructive and aggravating... I slap her forehead mustering all the hatred I have, pushing it all into her thoughts. I hear her scream. I smile. I love it when shit just works out...
