After The Trials

Chapter 3

I continued to talk to Thomas the next days, exercising my new power. It was wonderful, but I wish I could tell other people too. Especially to those girls who keep gossiping about me. I should give them a good subject to talk about. But they aren't worth my time, why am I occupying my mind with it? At least this way I can help Thomas easier and, when we will finally find a cure, no one will think he's a lunatic anymore. It breaks my heart to hear the way they're calling him and, even if I try to do something, it never turns out good. I don't know why they're bothered by the fact that he chose to live a secluded life, it was his choice and he had his reasons. Why am I the only one who can understand him? Not even his ex best friends seem to care about his mental health. If I didn't take care of him all these years, he'd have killed himself by now at least 5 times.

I have an idea. I told him one night.

Really? Surprise me. I could feel him shifting on his back and listening more carefully.

We can't find the cure staying here. We have to go in the real world.

What could we find?

I don't know, something. Anything is useful.

First, tell me how to get out of this damned island. Second, how will no one notice your absence?

The Flat Trans still works and they don't even notice my presence, I assure you they won't miss me. I let out a sad laugh and I know he heard it.

Let me make the plan in the next few days and then I'll tell you if it's worth it. Goodnight, Tessa.

I thought we weren't supposed to sleep.

No, we can't sleep at the same time. One night you sleep and the other one I do.

Makes sense. Goodnight, Thomas. I finish and cut the connection. As I felt Thomas' soul leaving, it was like a part of me was missing. I got so used to him being with me all the time that now I can't imagine how I lived my life without telepathy. Before I fall asleep, I have to think about the plan that accidentally slipped out of my mouth. What will we do after we leave this island? Where do we go? Is this actually going to help us to find the cure? I don't get to answer these question as the inviting mist of sleep envelops me, making me fall into the darkness of the unconscious.

The first thing I feel in the morning is a heavy migraine, like I'm hungover. I don't know how it feels, but everyone described it like that. I surely didn't drink, so only one option is left. Did you fucking drink? I ask Thomas, pissed that he gave me this feeling without the pleasure of the warm alcohol running down my throat.

He doesn't answer immediately, making me think I woke him up. Probably, why?

Well, I guess dreams and thoughts aren't the only things we share. I told you too much wine is bad for you, especially when you're sad. I don't think I have to remember about your suicidal years. he just groaned in response, so I continue lecturing him. How much did you drink and why?

Just a bottle. Don't worry, it'll go away soon, just drink pickle juice. And I don't need a reason to drink, it has a good taste and it makes me feel good. I think that's enough.

I feel his heart starting to pound faster and him scratching his arm like he does when he lies. You know you can't lie to me anymore, right? I ask him amused.

Crap. Then, I just won't tell you anything. Come on, I think we're already late to breakfast.

I want to insist, but something tells me to let it go and forget about it. I don't like it when Thomas locks himself in. He knows I can help him, so why doesn't he want my help? I know he doesn't think I'm a child, like everyone else does. He treats me like an equal. He has his rights to do so. I may be failing arithmetic, but I know more electroencephalography than they could possibly imagine. I don't even think they know how to spell that word or what it means. I need to focus on what will help me in life. Working to find a cure is more important than knowing how to solve an inequation.