Hey guys! I know I haven't posted in a while, but I've been looking at the next few chapters I've written and I'm starting to see a little bit of a plot hole. I'll probably get going and try to fix it, but anyway, chapter 4! I think it's a good one.

That feeling didn't last for very long. It had only taken me a single night to realize something: Mom, Dad, Chubs, Zu, Vida, and Cate wanted to remember the past, when their relationship was strongest. The past where I didn't even exist. There's only room for one telepath in this house.

I felt less like a part of this. I am the reason we're here. I am the reason why we have to hide. There is only room for one telepath in this house, and I was not going to be the telepath that stayed.

I changed clothes and packed up my things. It was too early for anyone to be up.

I was wrong with that last fact.

Mom was in the gym on the treadmill, running. The way I had the previous evening. She didn't see me, so I went into an old office in a hallway and grabbed a sheet of paper. I wrote my note and taped it to the steel door at the end of the tunnel that led into the garage.

There is only room for one telepath in this house.

I opened the door, aware that I would leave it unlocked, but at least they would be better. They could do whatever they wanted without having to fear that I could see or hear them from around the corner. I went into the garage and got on Lovely Rita. Dad would be furious, but I didn't really care. I flipped up the kickstand, making sure to give the crescent moon the finger as I drove away into the early morning.

I didn't regret my decision, at least not entirely.

Sure, I was giving up my parents, food, shelter, but I had increased their safety.

I rode and rode along the country roads, making sure my new orange identification button was well hidden under my jacket. I finally found an abandoned house with a crescent moon painted on the door.

Seriously though. How many times am I going to see this stupid thing?

A safe place, with no one in it. I'm glad my parents taught me the road code around here. I parked Lovely Rita in the driveway and rammed the door open with my shoulder. It was empty, well furnished, working water and electricity, it was just a little dusty. Not bad. Well done Emma.

I set my backpack down and locked the door behind me. I found a few things around the house. A few handguns, ammunition, a few cans of fruit. I could get supplies tomorrow. I went up the stairs, which were a little creaky, not enough to the point where it was concerning, but it was still frightening on the first couple of steps. Upstairs were two bedrooms, a linen closet, a loft with bookshelves, and a bathroom. There were a few towels and sheets in the closet, but other than that it was stripped down. A clue that no one lived here at the present moment. I went downstairs to grab my backpack, and then I brought it up to one of the bedrooms and pinned my sloth calendar to the wall, along with the picture Mom gave me of her, Dad, Chubs, and Zu in front of Black Betty. By then it was nighttime, so I headed downstairs and opened one of the cans of fruit and started to eat it. I just realized there was a refrigerator, but it didn't work. I'd fix that eventually. I grabbed one of the guns and a few bullets on my way out of the kitchen, just in case. I went upstairs and plopped on the bed, completely worn out. I stared up at the ceiling and listened to the rain hit the roof and then turned to the window to see the droplets race down the glass.

I had never been alone for this long before. Even though I was the only physical person within a ten mile radius, I still had my monster. I would truly never be alone again.

I don't know when I dozed off, but I woke up at the asscrack of dawn. I did my usual morning preparations in peace, for once, and I started to miss Mom right as I started to pull my hair back into her signature braid. I shrugged off the feeling of homesickness because I was home. This place is my home. Truly, when living alone, nobody has time for this kind of shit, especially when you are only fourteen.

I headed downstairs to head out for a supply run. I wasn't hungry, so I just grabbed my jacket and my backpack on the way out. I got on Lovely Rita, the seat was a little wet from the rain, but again so was I. The engine started up nicely and I flicked up the kickstand with my heel; I once again rode off into the early morning.

This area was never reconstructed. The stores had probably only been restocked once, so it appeared that no one was in the gas station I managed to find earlier. However, this one wasn't empty.

"Get that bag of chips. Oh! That box of candy too, and the Gatorade."

The voice was familiar, but I couldn't identify it nonetheless. I hid behind a shelf in the corner, just for extra precaution. The corner, where I belong.

"Where the hell is she?" The same voice, a woman's.

"Just give her a couple days, we'll find her." Another familiar voice. This time a man's.

It wasn't Mom or Dad's, I would have recognized them right away. They left, the door whining as it returned to its frame.

They had cleaned out the joint, but forgot to check the back where there were a few bags of chips, a can of pineapple, and a case of water. I grabbed the chips and pineapple, stuffing them into my bag. I returned to the stockpile for a few bottles of water. I closed my backpack and started to head out, noting I could return if I needed supplies.

Just as I was beginning to leave, there was a click. The click of the safety switching off on a handgun. It was leveled at my heart before I even had a chance to get mine from my bag.

"What a sweet little girl. Such a shame for you to be alone at this time of day." He looked at my jacked and moved the fabric out of the way. "An Orange. You look just like your mother you know."

I scoffed. He clicked his tongue and reached down to grab the bag at his feet, but the gun was still pointed in my direction. Inside was a bit of rope, a rag, metal handcuffs, and a plastic white muzzle all chained together.

He's going to take me.

I let him put the handcuffs on my wrist, but I struggled with all of my might to keep that muzzle from going on my face.

He's taking me.

He grunted with annoyance and pulled out a small device from his bag. I knew what it was, but I didn't know its impact until he switched it on. White Noise. Calm Control. Don't let the name fool you, it's the exact opposite of what it sounds like it is.

The sound was excruciating. Black dots appeared at the corner of my vision, and I eventually collapsed onto the ground next to the gun he'd left on the floor.

I was helpless. He's taking me.

He hauled me into the trunk and all I could see was black. I tasted bile in my mouth, it was burning my throat. My salty tears were the only thing to coax it back down, but it wasn't enough.

That man sped down the road for what seemed like hours, blasting ZZ goddamn Top the entire way. The one time I need my abilities, I swear.

We eventually turned into a gravel road and came to a stop. A black pillowcase was slipped over my head and the man took off the handcuffs. I was picked up and carried, or should I say thrown, into a cold metal chair. Velcro restraints were strapped around my wrists.

The pillowcase was taken off as well as the muzzle, by none other than former President Gray himself.

Shit.