The Empath
"Hello, Raven."
"Good morning, doctor."
"Are we in a good mood today?"
The young woman lifted herself from the stony floor, brushing the rubble from her palm against her clammy thigh. Every day felt the same. Every day was the same. It had been over a week since the incident happened. Apparently one of the nameless had gone against protocol. The alarms had gone off, lights shifting to the brightest whites, blinding her into a corner. The foot of her bed warped in at the start, crunching before she could clap a palm to her eyes, disoriented at the disturbance. Screaming, shrill screaming, and all she could imagine was that she had triggered the event.
But the nameless stomped past her cell in droves, yelling to each other, stun guns and beams in their hands, a disarray of disruption destroying the depths. She hid from the lights, tucking her toes in tight, but she felt with every strand of her being…
The panic.
The alarm.
The anger.
She absorbed it all, sorting which emotions belonged to what side, unable to feel a sense of relief at the bitter disorganization.
"WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT KILL HIM! I REPEAT, DO NOT KILL HIM! ORDERS FROM THE UPSTAIRS! WHATEVER YOU DO-"
"Raven?"
Her eyes clicked up at the doctor's voice, so very barely grazing against her eardrums it nearly triggered an autonomous sensory meridian response, but she refocused, realizing her fingers were stained with charcoal. Had she fallen asleep scripting again? She gazed down at the nonsense doodles.
"Yes?"
"How are you feeling?"
Her fingers grazed along the paper, questioning herself of the very same thing. "I try not to." she answered stoically, her finger drawing out a sooty circle, dotting it within. His brown eyes traced the image, the scratch of his pen scraping along his clipboard. "And what happens when you do?" he asked softly, eying the shift in her shoulders. Her thumb pressed firmly at the bottom of the page, eyes skimming the image before ripping it away, starting anew.
"You know what happens."
He paused his writing for a moment, simply observing as she was well aware. She was well aware of everything. Well aware of his position in the establishment. Well aware of his knowledge on her. Well aware that she could be bitter or gentle or indifferent. Well aware that it wouldn't affect her situation in the least.
"You seem distracted today." the man's voice noted, his silver hair barely gleaming in the amber light. Was she? Perhaps. His expected visit had slipped her mind, traded for more interesting things. Recent things. Things that perked her curiosity.
"The guard is dead."
The doctor peered at the young woman over his glasses, eyes dipping back to his paperwork, "Now, Raven. You know we call them rounds men. They're simply here to assure your safety."
She took the clump of charcoal, scribbling out some wiggles. No meaning whatsoever.
"From who? They can't protect themselves."
The smallest of smirks for her, "You always were an observant one."
"None more than you." she noted quietly, adding a few dots along the edge of the page.
The doctor was a middle aged man with a knack for gentle tones and gentler protocol. To say he managed every aspect of his job performance was an understatement, but even the shiniest pebbles had their cracks. She was well aware.
"I'm simply doing my job." he reasoned, standing tall and firm against the gate that separated them, "I'm required to make sure everything is perfect for your living standards. A creative mind is a beautiful mind."
She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, licking the dry bit of her top lip, "And observing me when I urinate, I suppose that's apart of your job, too."
The pen scratched along the clipboard, echoing into her cell, "Your range has gotten wider. Very impressive." he noted fondly, arching a slight brow at her, "And yet, you do nothing to deter the factor."
She ripped another page out, gently setting it on top of the previous.
"It wouldn't make a difference. It won't alter my condition. It won't change a thing. I'm simply aware of it."
The doctor offered a tiny smile, scanning the young teen before writing in the date at the very top of the page. "And what are these images you continually draw?" he inquired, poking through the bars of the gate with his pen. She drew a line through one of the others, ripping out the final paper. "I see them in my mind...everywhere." she answered.
Lies.
Truth.
She did see symbols everywhere. Symbols she could not read. Could not interpret. But not these. These were nonsense to delay their research. A wrench in the mix. It would buy her time. Somehow. The true symbols, safely tucked away. Close to her heart.
"Fascinating. May I have them?"
She collected the others in her grip, lifting herself with the grim of her charcoal and slipped them between the bars, her vision never leaving the images. He clipped them to his board, skimming through each carving as its own masterpiece before she broke his thoughts, honest curiosity slipping through.
"What killed him?"
The doctor paused his writing, glancing quietly at his watch. Tucking the pen into the clip, he poked his hand into his lab coat, bidding her adieu with a nod of his head,
"His pride."
She listened as the doctor's steps carried him away to where she could no longer see, turning on the faucet to wash the soot from her hands. Her eyes closed for a moment, tapping onto his emotions like a magnet.
Prideful.
Ironic.
Perhaps it would lead him down the same path as the rounds men. She shook her hands, watching the tiny droplets of water fall away into the basin, finding herself attracted to another soul.
A feeling of...stagnant reflection. It shifted after a while into doubt and boredom, before falling into hopelessness.
She dried her hands slowly, eying the stone beneath her toes, and sat across them, closing her eyes once more with a gentle whisper, "Rachel."