Days passed, and my life turned into a never-ending game of shadow tag. Only, the shadows weren't fun—they were my family. Everywhere I went, someone was always there. Watching. Hovering. Breathing down my neck like I was some kind of ticking time bomb.

Yesterday while taking a bath I swear someone was waiting for me at the door.

Today was dad's duty to babysit me. I was hoping he could take me hunting, I have been feeling parched.

"You don't have to go, sweetheart." He answered before I could voice my question.

What do you mean? I asked, half curious if he'll let me drink donated blood from the hospital instead.

He then typed something on his phone and a few moments later Jasper came bringing a doe.

My jaw dropped at the ridiculousness.

I can't believe this. I can't even go hunting.

I refused to drink the doe and went back to my room, slamming the door behind me.

.

.

.

I woke up the next morning to find my family gathering in the living room.

What did I do? I asked my dad, dreading whatever kind of protection they're gonna install next.

"We think it's best to know the extent of your power." He explained. I lit up a little.

"Does it mean you can stop babysitting me if I can control my power?"

"We'll have to see." He said.

I ate breakfast quickly and rubbed my palms together in excitement.

"The first rule," Carlisle began, his voice calm and authoritative, "is to never use your power to touch people without their permission."

I nodded, eager to start. Carlisle pulled out his iPad, showing me a series of commands. The first one read:

"Simple Commands: One Word, Direct Action."

"This is where we'll start," he said, pointing to the chart. "You need to get used to focusing on something simple at first. For example, telling someone to lift a finger, raise an eyebrow, or blink. Try it."

Carlisle offered his hand and nodded at my dad, who no doubt was keeping tabs on our minds. I took a deep breath, standing tall, my hands shaking. I concentrated, channeling everything I had into a single, simple command. Blink.

Carlisle blinked non stop. I gasped and let go of his hand and he stopped at once.

"He's okay." Reassured my dad. "Try to be more specific with the amount of times you want him to blink."

I touched Carlisle's arm again and commanded him to blink three times. Carlisle blinked exactly three times and I sighed in relief.

"Well done," my dad said softly.

I grinned, a rush of pride filling me. I did it!

Carlisle smiled too, his eyes gleaming with approval. He showed the second chart, reading:

"Complex Commands: Multiple Actions, Require Focus and Precision."

He explained, "Now we're going to try to complete a sequence of actions. Now, tell me to walk across the room and pick up the book, and sit down."

He stood across from me, waiting patiently. I took another steadying breath, my mind focused, ready to issue my first complex command. Walk across the room, pick up the book, and sit down.

There was a brief pause before he moved, but his eyes glazed as he stepped across the room with calm deliberation, picking up a book from the table, and then sitting down in the chair opposite me.

I let out a breath, my heart pounding. "It worked."

Carlisle called Emmett to replace him, declaring him as my guinea pig for the next phase of my training. I could see the amusement flickering in Emmett's eyes as he casually strolled into the room. "You ready for this?" he grinned, clearly excited by the idea of being the subject of one of my experiments.

Carlisle and my dad stood off to the side, observing and making notes, while I tried to focus and not get distracted by the thought of Emmett being, well, Emmett.

My dad looked uneasy as he read Carlisle's mind, and he nodded after a long minute. Carlisle showed me another chart: Convince Emmett that his shirt is blue.

I raised an eyebrow as I read it. I now understand my dad's uneasiness, he was worried that I would be able to manipulate.

I sighed, and touched Emmett's outstretched hand. I focused on his deep green shirt, imagining it as blue as I spoke. Emmett, your shirt is blue.

For a moment, nothing happened. Emmett raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a skeptical grin. "No offense, squirt, but I'm pretty sure that's green."

"Try giving it more force." My dad directed reluctantly. I nodded.

I tried again, a little more forcefully this time. No, Emmett. It's blue. You're seeing it wrong.

Emmett looked down at his shirt again, his brow furrowing in confusion. He blinked and then his eyes glazed. My dad sighed, his expression confirming Emmett's altered perception.

I felt a rush of satisfaction wash over me, though it was tempered by the mental effort it took to push the command so deeply.

"You're improving quickly," Carlisle noted, his tone thoughtful. He swiped to the next chart, his calm demeanor betraying a hint of excitement. He typed something and showed me, it read:

Convince Emmett that there's an apple on the table.

I touched Emmett's hand and my dad shook his head, meaning it didn't work. My heart sank.

"Don't be discouraged," dad said gently. "Picture the apple vividly. Imagine its color, its shape, its scent. Push those details outward."

I nodded and closed my eyes. I imagined the table bathed in sunlight, the apple resting there—a perfect red sphere with a glossy sheen, its crisp scent tangling in my thoughts.

"He thinks there's an apple on the table." My dad said disapprovingly.

I gasped, letting go of Emmett's hand. His eyes were focused again. "Whoa!" He exclaimed, slightly disoriented, "what the hell, squirt?" Rose hissed and scowled, not liking what her husband was going through.

I bit my lip, dreading the next step and curious at the same time. If I could make someone see what's not there, or not see what's in front of them… the possibilities are endless. My dad pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Carlisle, I think that's enough for today," he said, his voice tight.

Carlisle and my dad locked eyes, tension crackling in the air until my dad finally relented with a sharp exhale. Carlisle typed something again and showed me:

Convince Emmett he didn't go out with you to the bar.

I nodded. I pictured Emmett sitting in his gaming room, beating humans at Call of Duty while Rosalie watched with bored expression. I then touched his arm and pushed the image.

"Emmett, what did you do last Friday?" My dad asked.

"Gaming as usual." He said casually.

"Did you go out with Renesmee?"

Emmett frowned, his confusion evident. "Going out? No, I don't think so."

Rose's voice cut through the room, sharp and filled with concern. "That's enough. Emmett, come here." She practically rushed toward him, her hands immediately cupping his face as if to ground him.

I let go of his hand and clutched my throbbing head. The effort of making someone forget took far more energy than anything I'd done before. My parents rushed to my side, bringing a chair for me to sit in.

"Are you okay?" Mom asked, her voice thick with worry. I nodded faintly.

Across the room, Rosalie was still fussing over Emmett. Her voice softened, but panic lingered in her tone.

"Do you know me?" Rose's hands trembled slightly as she cupped Emmett's face, her golden eyes darting over him as if searching for cracks in his memory.

Emmett's gaze flickered between clarity and confusion. "Yeah... of course."

"Who am I?" Rose asked with urgency.

"You're Rose, my mate, my wife." Emmett answered. Rose let out a breath and kissed him on his mouth. He reciprocated so enthusiastically and I had to look away.

"I thought you forgot about me." Rose whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

"How could I?" he murmured, pulling her closer.

"Because-" She looked at me sharply. I didn't have to be a mind reader to know what she meant. If I could make him forget a single event, what was stopping me from erasing something far more important? My dad hissed angrily. Without another word, she grabbed Emmett's hand and led him out into the woods.

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