feet. With my eyes still closed, I try to take in my surroundings. I don’t know where I am, but it feels like I am laying on something soft. A couch maybe?
Groaning, I grab my head—the remnant of my previous headache still lingering. I attempt to sit up, but my body refuses to cooperate. Someone puts their hand on my back and helps me. I blindly thank them.
“Ryanne, can you open your eyes?” a woman asks me.
“I’m afraid to. It hurts. The voices are too loud.” I whisper.
“I’m going to help you, but I need you to look at me first.”
I take a deep breath and mentally prepare myself for the onslaught of voices. I slowly open my eyes and see three worried faces looking back at me. Colton and his aunt are sitting on the coffee table directly in front of me, while another guy stands quietly behind them. He looks just like Colton facially, but isn’t as tall, has shorter hair, and broader shoulders.
I wince as the voices get slightly louder, but it isn’t nearly as loud as before. “Ryanne, look at me. Concentrate on my voice.”
Turning towards her, I focus only on her. “My head hurts.”
“I know and it will. I’m going to try and help you,” she tells me. “Think only about me. Forget about what you are hearing. Focus on my voice.”
I try to only listen to her, but I can’t. It is too hard. Too many voices are trying to get my attention. I’m not able to hold onto just one. I hope she’s okay. She’s looks so pale. Hopefully, she can get a handle on this.
In frustration, I slam my eyes shut. “I can’t do it. They’re too loud. I can’t concentrate.”
“Aunt Claire, can I try?” asks Colton. “I’m the one who woke her magic up, maybe I can help her control it.”
“I guess it can’t hurt anything.”
“Ryanne, open your eyes.”
I hear the sounds of shuffling and someone touches my leg. Hesitantly, I open my eyes and stare into an abyss of green.
“I’m going to try and walk you through this. Concentrate on me. Block out all background noise. Don’t listen to any of the voices. Focus on my voice and my voice only. Now, think of somewhere that you feel safe. The gazebo maybe,” he suggests. “Imagine yourself there. Think about the scene. Forget the voices. What color are the trees? What season is it? Who are you with? Think about that.”
I close my eyes and think back to the time where my mother and I went to the park and ate under the gazebo. It was during the summer when I was eight years old. We set up a picnic. I remember being really happy. It was sunny. I ran around in the grass around the gazebo chasing insects. While we were eating, a blue butterfly landed on my arm. My mother said that the butterfly meant that I was special. That someone was watching over me.
“Keep that thought in mind. I want you to think about the voices, but don’t concentrate fully on them. I want you to push them aside. Push them to the background—push them into the corner and lock them there. You are the only one with a key. Only you can unlock the thoughts.”
I try to follow everything that he said. It is a little difficult to push them to the side. It’s like trying to hold a wet bar of soap. Right when I think I have them in my grasp, they slip away. However, after what feels like hours, though it is probably only a couple minutes, I finally get a hold of them. I push the key in and mentally lock them to the side. It is finally quiet. I can think again.
I open my eyes and look around the room. I don’t hear anything. I smile up at Colton with tears in my eyes. “Thank you.” He stands up moves to the side, so his aunt can sit back in front on me.
“It worked? You can’t hear our thoughts anymore?”
My eyes widen, shocked at her question. “I can hear your thoughts? That’s what those voices were?” I scoot more towards the right, away from her. There’s no humanly way possible that I can read minds.
“Yes, you have the power to read minds. The change was supposed to be gradual. We aren’t sure why yours appeared so fast.” She pauses and looks at the two guys in the room, “If my intuition is