Twisted Inside

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Peter's telekinetic/psychic powers are a combination of Eleven's from Stranger Things and Nico Di Angelo's from Rick Riordan's Heroes of Olympus series. There's also a few Harry Potter references in this chapter.

I'm such a nerd. Lol

Song for this chapter is Scars by Boy Epic
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Crickets chirped in a steady rhythm, and a nearby owl hooted as they came to life with the dying twilight. The black canvas above was speckled with bright white stars and the smallest traces of a waning crescent moon. A single campfire illuminated the circle of campers below, casting shadows that reached out to the otherwise dark forest.

A soft hum fell from Rose's lips as she closed her eyes. Breathing deeply, she pulled herself into a meditative state. She rested her hands on her knees and slowed her breathing as the external background noises faded into nothing. The wind that tugged her hair only seconds ago settled, removing the chill from the night air. Using the energies around herself to sift through the universe, this is her element. With her third eye wide open, she allowed her consciousness to drift.

She floated above the massive forest that stretched for hundreds of miles in every direction. Lakes, mountains, and fields masked in darkness passed below her. Eventually, suburban towns filled with cookie-cutter homes and bustling cities passed below as she grew closer and closer to her destination. She could feel it. Or rather, him. Her entire body practically vibrated from the pure energy radiating off of the teen she desired.

An old, rundown apartment building in the low-end of Queens, New York, ended up being her destination. The once red bricks were now brown, verging on black, tarnished from years of pollution. Most of the windows were barred off in a feeble attempt to fend off any potential criminals and provide the inhabitants' peace of mind. The majority of the surrounding buildings showed similar signs of decay, all of them past their prime.

Unsurprisingly, the front entrance was locked, a rusted deadbolt serving as the metalloid gatekeeper. The locked door proved to be more of a minor inconvenience rather than an obstacle. Rose didn't have a key, but there was no need for one in the dream realm. She took to the sky once again, drifting counterclockwise around the building until she found the source of power she set out to find. She found her destination seven floors up, and with minimal effort, she phased through the wall.

"So," Rose looked around the tiny room, unimpressed by its simplicity and lack of decoration, "this is your room."

A small wooden desk stood along the far wall, its scuffed surface covered in highlighted papers, pens of varying colors, and books. The thin spindle-like legs looked as if they'd snap under the weight of the various textbooks piled on top of it. A little woodblock was placed underneath one of the legs, presumably in an attempt to level them and prevent future spills. The chair nearby didn't match the stained oak desk but was equally worn, its green paint chipping off every time someone touched it. A backpack with a broken strap and fraying edges was thrown haphazardly beside the yard sale antique.

Besides the chipping paint and occasional crack in the plaster, the bedroom's blue-heather walls were bare. A small closet the night and width of a standard refrigerator sat in one corner, and a single twin bed stood against the right wall opposite it. The only other piece of furniture was a compact bedside table at the head of the bed below the window.

Quietly, Rose approached the bed and the slumbering teen inside it. She picked up the picture frame off the bedside table out of interest. In the picture, a well-known billionaire stood beside a young teenager, the same one she needed. Lightly, she ghosted her fingers over the people in the photo then turned to the bed, glancing between the photograph and the boy asleep in bed.

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