My universe tipped and rebalanced. Everything I knew, everything I'd experienced now needed an entirely new labeling system. Right and wrong had ceased to be black and white. It had balled up into so many shades of gray that I couldn't decipher anything anymore.
Could evil be justified by good intentions? Or was that truly the road to hell, as the saying went? My hand went to my belly. My thoughts went to Ana and the professor and Mary and Drake. No, evil is never justified, no matter the intention.
"I understand what you're telling me, but there has to be a better way. Having the right motives doesn't justify what you're doing. Do you have any idea what kind of violation you are perpetrating on these girls when you impregnate them?" I moved closer to him and held his eyes. "Help me, brother. Help me set this whole business back on course. We can give these kids real freedom, not this tyranny you've created. We can create a new environment for them, one where they won't be beaten and killed and experimented on against their will."
The only way he could see, the only way he could truly know what he had done was to show him, to make him feel what I felt. I had to merge with him the way I had merged with Drake, but to do so I had to become completely vulnerable.
I hesitated. My sweaty hands clenched and unclenched. As much as I wanted it to, time did not stand still for this. It moved inexorably forward, carrying the safety of my friends with it.
Without further thought, I reached for him, opened myself and allowed him to merge completely with me.
Every memory, ever fear, every tear I'd cried and all my broken dreams, even every joy—I poured them all into the light of his consciousness.
The betrayals and the pain, both psychical and emotional, threatened to engulf me, but still I poured. Still I opened.
My first kiss with Drake, the feeling of love between us when finally we met in the flesh.
My terror and fear at discovering I was pregnant.
Drake's hands, covered in the blood of the man the Seeker had sent to hunt us.
My hope and joy when I read my acceptance letter to Sarah Lawrence.
The loss of realizing I would never have any of that life that I'd spent years cultivating in my mind.
Ana, dying in my arms—for me.
I fed him the thoughts and fears and memories of others—of Mary as her mind collapsed, of Luke and Lucy when they lost their mother, of the countless Rent-A-Kids whose lives he'd taken away.
He fell to the floor and curled up into a ball. His pleas were neither mental nor verbal, but I understood nonetheless.
'Please, stop. It hurts. So. Much. Pain. Stop.'
"I'm not trying to hurt you out of spite. I need you to see the real effects of what you and your father have done. I need you to understand it's not worth it, not the way you are doing it."
Being open at this level created a two-way link. Just as he had access to my emotional and mental dump, so too could I feel and see his.
Fear of death colored everything. He had always been valued by his father because of his para-powers, and now those very powers were the cause of his death.
He feared his father's disapproval, his withdrawal of love and pride. He craved family and connection, friendships not driven by fear, greed or compulsion.
In that moment, I saw past the enemy and into the man….
***
A small boy sits alone in a dark, locked closet. He cries and cries, but no one comes. He knows he must perform. He must find the other minds like his—minds with special gifts. "The darkness will force you to focus," his father had said.
Has it been hours? Days? He doesn't know anymore. Filth and urine stick to his cramped legs. He tries to find them, tries to see where the others are.
And one appears, like a star in the night. He sees the other mind. "Father! Father! I did it. I know where one is."
A hand grips him and pulls him out. His eyes can't open in the light, and his legs don't work, but he tries to tell what he saw.
The hand crashes into his face and sends him across the floor. His father's voice fills the room. "That's not enough. Find more. We need more."
And so he does….
The boy is older now, a teenager with a love of his own. She has red hair and freckles he likes to trace with his fingertip.
Myra. Myra who can calm oceans, who can also calm his soul.
They sit at the Hub, eating and laughing and talking. It's her birthday, and they want to sneak off campus to see the real world. The boy knows he can do this; his father has made sure he is powerful enough to do anything, even though he pretends to be a normal paranormal kid at the school, like everyone else. Only Myra knows his true identity.
But the memory is corrupted, and the sky rains down blood as the boy cries and holds the broken, dead body of his love.
A door stands at his side. The door to memory. The door to truth.
He can't open it, but he must.
He walks through the door and sees his father, holding the bloody knife that killed his Myra.
***
The connection broke and both the Seeker and I fell to our knees.