Electric

chapter three

"Tell me, Riley, what makes you tick." Dexter's demand makes me pause. I don't understand. What makes me tick? As in what makes me use my power? Dexter would only ask me a question to better his data, so that means almost all of his questions are revolved around my power. This question is no exception.

    "I don't know." I reply, feeling uninterested in this conversation already.

My eyes wander around the chamber we got stuck in today. My legs are tied to the legs of this cold metal chair, but my wrists are free. There is nothing in the room besides Dexter and I but the white tile on the walls and floor and the cracked white ceiling. While I sit strapped to a chair, Dexter sits with his clipboard and pen, his legs crossed, and his eyes studying my every move. Everything I do is an observation to him; it's just new data to put in my file.

"Well, you must have an idea as to what causes your brain to fire off a circuit of electricity." He presses and I watch the light swing gently form the ceiling. "You cannot possibly believe that there is no pattern, that your power is simply random at best."

There are sixteen cracks in the ceiling and in a year, I bet that number will double and that swinging light will fall to the white tiled floor with a shattering thud. Dexter clears his throat and my eyes snap over to him.

"Riley, I'm sure you are tired of all the questions, but I am very interested in your answers. I would like to hear them if you don't mind." I do mind is what I want to scream at him. I do mind, but he can never know that or else I will get in big trouble.

They'll put a wet washcloth over my face, tip my chair back, and slowly pour water over the cloth. They will drown me until I'm close to death, and then they'll stop pouring the water, take the washcloth off of my face, and leave me all by myself while I'm still gasping for air. They'll torture me yet again.

"I don't have a clue, Dexter." I argue and he scribbles something on his clipboard. I glance at the words ignorance and repudiation. I look back up at the ceiling and count how many times the light swings before he asks yet another question.

"I believe that your emotions trigger the electricity, Riley. When you are angry does your power surface? Or what about when you are very happy? Does your power surface then?" Dexter looks at me eagerly, waiting for answers. I shake my head because the last part makes me want to laugh. Very happy? I'm stuck in an asylum to get tortured day in and day out with no free will, and he thinks I've been happy here?

"I don't know." I repeat impassive, and Dexter gives me a look like he doesn't understand why I'm being so difficult.

There are sixteen cracks in the ceiling and four walls in this room. There are four cracks in the ceiling for each wall. There are sixty seconds in a minute and sixty minutes in an hour. There are an infinite amount of breaths in each day and I take one as Parker enters the room with a blank expression not unlike like my own. His eyes go straight to me and take in the scene laid out before him.

I know he will see an irritated Dexter with his eyes on his clipboard, and across from that agitated scientist, he will see an expressionless Riley. He will see how she sits perfectly still with her eyes looking right at him. He will notice how Dexter has very few notes on his clipboard and he will assume this session has not been very proficient. And he will have assumed right because it really hasn't been.

I watch as he clears his throat and Dexter looks up from his clipboard. I almost laugh as Dexter's whole composure changes. He is no longer a cross scientist, but now an unsatisfied genius determined for answers.

"Parker, she refuses to answer my questions." Dexter informs which causes Parker raises his eyebrows at me. I look at him, and then I look back up at the ceiling. The light sways in the silence and my eyes follow it ever so slowly.

"Answer his questions, Riley." Parker says as if bored and my eyes flicker back to him. He has that no-nonsense expression on his face and I sigh.

"I did. He just didn't like the answer I gave." My eyes move to Dexter and he practically glares at me. "I don't know, Dexter. You're the one with data. I think you can come up with your own answers to your own stupid questions so stop wasting your time." My anger gets the better of me. Parker takes a tactful step in my direction and I purse my lips.

"Riley."

"I'm serious." I press on. "He's the one recording all of this data from his experiments, so he should be able to answer his own questions if he's really as smart as he says he is." Dexter stands and exits the room dramatically. I roll my eyes.

Once he's gone, Parker releases my restraints and takes a seat with a sigh. I've come to the conclusion that Parker doesn't like it when I'm tied up for some reason. He always makes sure I'm free when we're alone together.

"Why do you have to make my job so hard?" He sounds exhausted. I stand up and stretch. He's a General. What's Parker's job here in the asylum? "Can you not just do as you're told, love? This would be so much easier on both of us if you would." I put my hands on my hips and look at him.

"He was asking me questions I didn't have the answers to. When I said I didn't know, he got mad." I explain. It's not like he was asking for an explanation, and he doesn't deserve one, but I feel like I have to. "It's not my fault he can't listen to an answer he doesn't want to hear." The corner of Parker's mouth twitches and I know he wants to smile.

I wish he would.

"Fine." He stands up and is suddenly extremely close to me. "Let's get you back to your cell." He emphasizes because of our argument from yesterday and I almost smile. Almost. He knocks on the wall, and two guards come in and drag me to my cell. I manage to look back at Parker over my shoulder and when I do, I find him shaking his head as he watches me go with a small smile on his lips.

    He meets my eyes for a split second before I'm shoved around the corner and out of view.