memories I’d spent the last few weeks suppressing to surface.
Starting from the very first encounter I’d had with Penny in the Hunters’ Village, I showed him how she’d used my own powers of Mind Manipulation against me. I recounted the times I was sure she persuaded me into telling her things I hadn’t originally wanted to, and the times she cajoled me into decisions I wouldn’t have otherwise made. I recalled the times that, in hindsight, I knew she’d accidentally mimicked other Talents. Like the time she used Ursula Bane’s telekinesis to catch a glass in mid-air. And the time she was helping me train Kenly for her placement exams and mimicked Kenly’s abilities to keep me from breaking my ankle.
Erik knew about my interrogations of the four other Cryptos, but not wanting to leave out any detail, I replayed each in my head so that Erik could see and feel what I’d experienced first-hand. I reminded him of Penny’s intake evaluation that was seared into my brain, the final clue that had cinched Penny’s guilt for me: the indication that she was a Light Manipulator, which contradicted what I thought I knew to be true: She was a Higher Reasoning Talent.
I jumped to the confrontation with Penny in the Crypto Bank. I heard Penny’s words in my head as she urged me to believe that Mac wasn’t who I thought he was; that Donavon wasn’t the only person lying to me; that I knew what she was saying was true; and that I just needed to look inside myself for the answers, whatever that meant. Erik was there when she was actually arrested, so he probably knew better than I did what actually transpired. I’d been too distraught to process most of it.
Finally, I relived Penny’s sentencing day. I was too caught up in the memory to bypass the reading of the evidence I’d provided for the formal record. Erik gently rubbed his thumbs across my palms. His touch was a salve to the reopened wounds of Penny’s betrayal.
My parent’s faces swam through my mind, swirling into undefined shapes. I wanted to hold on to the memory, remember the way they appeared in the vision, but I couldn’t. A tear leaked from the corner of one closed eye and trailed down my cheek. Why couldn’t I bring up the exact vision? Why couldn’t I remember the way my parent’s looked? What had my parents been doing with Crane? Where had we been?
The harder I concentrated, the fuzzier the images became. It was like there were mental blocks in my brain, keeping me from the memories. The pain reached a tipping point, my heart ripped in two, and suddenly I didn’t want to remember anymore. I tore my hands from Erik’s grasp, covered my face with sweaty palms, and sobbed.
Erik drew me closer, wrapping his arms protectively around my body, a shield against the torment and confusion of the outside world. He held me so tightly that air had trouble reaching my lungs. I’d been waiting three long, agonizing weeks for this moment. The moment when Erik would hold me and tell me that everything was okay. The moment that I could stop pretending I was happy that the girl I once called my best friend was going to die. The moment when I could tell someone I trusted that I believed Crane knew my parents, just like Penny said. Just like Crane said.
Dr. Wythe and Mac had tried to convince me that everything Penny told and showed me was a lie; that she’d fabricated the memories; that none of it had actually happened. They said she was one of the few people who knew how precarious my mental state was since Nevada, and she concocted the images of my family to unhinge me further. Dr. Wythe told me that she was a sociopath and took pleasure in watching me unravel. Mac argued that Penny was trying to lure me back to Crane by dangling the temptation of his alleged friendship with my parents like a carrot.
In the beginning, I actually bought into their convoluted theories. I was so mad and hurt by her lies that I was vulnerable to the suggestions. During my
Starting from the very first encounter I’d had with Penny in the Hunters’ Village, I showed him how she’d used my own powers of Mind Manipulation against me. I recounted the times I was sure she persuaded me into telling her things I hadn’t originally wanted to, and the times she cajoled me into decisions I wouldn’t have otherwise made. I recalled the times that, in hindsight, I knew she’d accidentally mimicked other Talents. Like the time she used Ursula Bane’s telekinesis to catch a glass in mid-air. And the time she was helping me train Kenly for her placement exams and mimicked Kenly’s abilities to keep me from breaking my ankle.
Erik knew about my interrogations of the four other Cryptos, but not wanting to leave out any detail, I replayed each in my head so that Erik could see and feel what I’d experienced first-hand. I reminded him of Penny’s intake evaluation that was seared into my brain, the final clue that had cinched Penny’s guilt for me: the indication that she was a Light Manipulator, which contradicted what I thought I knew to be true: She was a Higher Reasoning Talent.
I jumped to the confrontation with Penny in the Crypto Bank. I heard Penny’s words in my head as she urged me to believe that Mac wasn’t who I thought he was; that Donavon wasn’t the only person lying to me; that I knew what she was saying was true; and that I just needed to look inside myself for the answers, whatever that meant. Erik was there when she was actually arrested, so he probably knew better than I did what actually transpired. I’d been too distraught to process most of it.
Finally, I relived Penny’s sentencing day. I was too caught up in the memory to bypass the reading of the evidence I’d provided for the formal record. Erik gently rubbed his thumbs across my palms. His touch was a salve to the reopened wounds of Penny’s betrayal.
My parent’s faces swam through my mind, swirling into undefined shapes. I wanted to hold on to the memory, remember the way they appeared in the vision, but I couldn’t. A tear leaked from the corner of one closed eye and trailed down my cheek. Why couldn’t I bring up the exact vision? Why couldn’t I remember the way my parent’s looked? What had my parents been doing with Crane? Where had we been?
The harder I concentrated, the fuzzier the images became. It was like there were mental blocks in my brain, keeping me from the memories. The pain reached a tipping point, my heart ripped in two, and suddenly I didn’t want to remember anymore. I tore my hands from Erik’s grasp, covered my face with sweaty palms, and sobbed.
Erik drew me closer, wrapping his arms protectively around my body, a shield against the torment and confusion of the outside world. He held me so tightly that air had trouble reaching my lungs. I’d been waiting three long, agonizing weeks for this moment. The moment when Erik would hold me and tell me that everything was okay. The moment that I could stop pretending I was happy that the girl I once called my best friend was going to die. The moment when I could tell someone I trusted that I believed Crane knew my parents, just like Penny said. Just like Crane said.
Dr. Wythe and Mac had tried to convince me that everything Penny told and showed me was a lie; that she’d fabricated the memories; that none of it had actually happened. They said she was one of the few people who knew how precarious my mental state was since Nevada, and she concocted the images of my family to unhinge me further. Dr. Wythe told me that she was a sociopath and took pleasure in watching me unravel. Mac argued that Penny was trying to lure me back to Crane by dangling the temptation of his alleged friendship with my parents like a carrot.
In the beginning, I actually bought into their convoluted theories. I was so mad and hurt by her lies that I was vulnerable to the suggestions. During my
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