LXXXII

The rest of the morning he locks himself in his office and immerses himself in reading. This proves to be a good way to occupy HIS mind with productive activities—that is, not letting his thoughts wander to Eleven and her stupid friends—at least for the next four or five hours.

However, even he has a limit; at the first signs of hunger and thirst, he decides it's time to take a break, so he gets up and goes to the kitchen. He is barely taking his first sip of water when the clock bells begin to ring.

Eleven will arrive in half an hour.

He grimaces at the intrusive thought: Eleven obviously won't be here in half an hour. He had thought of it out of habit and, right now, the idea that he is here, alone, waiting for her and unable to get her out of his mind, while she is with her dull friends and her mediocre boyfriend and, surely, she doesn't even spare a thought for him…

… it hurts.

Yes, it hurts. It is not difficult to admit it to himself, immersed in this absolute loneliness.

And there is a place, a sanctuary, if you will, where Henry has always taken refuge on occasions like this.

The attic.

The spiders are old friends of his, old friends who have been with him for years before Eleven even existed, but even they can't offer him the solace he needs right now.

So he turns to his only other original source of happiness: his abilities. Standing in the center of the attic, he closes his eyes and extends his hand.

But what am I looking for?

He thinks he could focus on Eleven. But no, he doesn't want that: seeing her having a good time with her friends is the last thing he needs. He could spy on the neighbors, but the idea of using his powers for something so banal disgusts him.

I could, perhaps, do an experiment.

Yes, that's it; how far can he go? He knows Brenner had intended to force them to act as spies—or, at least, that's how the scientist had justified his experiments to the government—so, from his point of view, it should be possible to project his consciousness on the other side of the globe.

Yes, let's try that.

Neither he nor Eleven need isolation tanks at this point; Their minds can fulfill that function without any obstacle.

And so, when he opens his eyes, the wooden floor has disappeared, and his feet are immersed in a puddle of black water. He doesn't have time to examine his surroundings in detail when he hears a voice speaking in an unknown language. Following it, he encounters a uniformed man.

He must be speaking Russian.

Pleased, Henry can't help but smile: his skills do exceed expectations…

And that's when a laugh startles him.

What?

The Russian officer magically vanishes, but Henry is no longer interested. That laugh, on the other hand, has awakened his curiosity…

… which quickly turns into disgust when he realizes where it comes from.

Eleven. Laughing with her friends, hugging Mike while they play silly arcade video games.

If he were calm and in full use of all his mental faculties, Henry would conclude, with good reason, that his mind so easily tunes into Eleven's that he ends up searching for—and finding—her automatically.

However, his mental state right now is not ideal—the scene he witnesses makes him see red.

"ENOUGH!"

He extends his hand without thinking, with the intention of fading the aggravating image and sounds. And he channels his abilities using frustration, disappointment, loneliness, anger, feelings from yesterday and now that oppress his heart.

The image fades.

And, behind it, a vibrant red tear opens.

But what is that…?

Fleshy red vines separate from each other, like a fabric being frayed.

Henry is back in the attic.

And, in front of him, a portal to an unknown dimension invites him to discover it.