The Energy Room (The Elementum Trilogy) (7 page)

“Everything alright, Angie?” Paula asked before I could make my way out the door.

“
Everything is always alright, Paula,” I replied with a weak smile.

“
That’s my girl. You want to know a secret?” she asked, leaning over a tray of biscuits, so as not to let anyone else hear.

“
What?” I asked curiously.

“
Boys are dumb,” she said, nudging me gently on the chin with her balled fist.

“
You know… I had my suspicions.” I smiled, actually feeling a bit cheerier.

Lakin’s face found its way into my mind as I trotted toward the elevator. I imagined a growing look of despair in his clouded eyes, as he witnessed my encounter with Eric.
‘No,’
I thought,
‘I’m not going to deal with it yet.’
I cleared my mind with a sigh, as the lift opened to the intensely-lit eleventh floor. I passed sterile, white doors, all identical except for small, black numbers bolted below the peepholes. I came to a halt in front of number twenty-two and was about to knock, when the door opened in front of me.

“
Help!” Al shouted at me, panic saturating every fiber of his being.

“
What? Are you okay?! What is it?” I screamed in terror as he dragged me by the arm into the miniature apartment.

My eyes shifted, expecting to find a fire, or maybe a giant spider. Al leaped to the small kitchen area, struggling with something he had smothered in a towel on the counter. A brownish, grimy-looking liquid had seeped down the cupboards onto the floor, inching its way toward my feet. I tip-toed around the fluid, until I was an arm hair’s length from the frantic therapist.

“It won’t stop!” Al exclaimed.

“
What is it?” I frowned.

I imagined some sort of strange, dying creature lying helplessly under the damp fabric. I reached hesitantly for the towel, sweeping it to the floor in one swift motion.

“You’ve
got
to be kidding me,” I scoffed.

There, in the middle of Al’s countertop, was a mangled coffee-maker, spewing scalding, brown liquid from all the places it wasn’t meant to be spewing from. I looked at Al in amazement, before yanking the cord from the outlet behind it. The machine continued to percolate for a moment, then died out with a pitiful hiss.

“That’s one way to do it,” Al said breathlessly.

I was at a loss for words. The man who was supposed to be evaluating my mental health on a daily basis had just been attacked by a coffee maker. It wasn’t very reassuring.

“Are you a child, posing as an adult?” I asked insultingly.

“
I’m just not used to violent kitchen appliances,” Al explained, smirking as he scooted the towel around on the floor with his foot.

“
Excuses, excuses,” I said.

While I watched Al clean up the bloody remains of the Great Java War of 2012, my thoughts circled in on one, tiny detail I most likely would have missed, had I been any sort of useful in helping to tidy up the mess.

“Hey, how did you know I was outside?” I questioned.

“
What? I heard you knock,” Al said innocently from the floor.

“
You opened the door before I knocked.” My eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“
Oh. I thought I heard it,” Al said pensively, pausing his floor-scrubbing duties for a brief moment.

“
No, I definitely did not knock,” I stated adamantly.

“
Hmm...” Al shrugged, returning his attention to the floor.

Al reminded me of myself, in that instant; he was a very convincing liar. I, however, was not fooled. My eyes flickered up to the small camera in the corner of the room, then back to the man on the floor. I wondered if he was a psychic of some sort, if he had sensed me approaching the door. I knew Lakin would laugh at me later for the idea. He would call me paranoid and obsessed with the unlikely.

Just as the thought of Lakin’s probable response crossed my mind, I noticed Al suppress a chuckle. I had been watching him intently while my mind wandered. Was he actually psychic? Had he been able to see or hear my thoughts about Lakin? Was he still listening?

The glittering, blue eyes connected with mine, showing the same oceans of knowledge I thought I had seen the night before when he wished me sweet dreams. My heart felt as though it was about to migrate up through my throat and land on the newly-polished linoleum. I held my breath, waiting eagerly for Al to give me some hint that I was on the right track.

“How about that tour, then?” he asked, pushing himself to his feet.

A sigh of disappointment escaped me, releasing my entire body from the tight, internal chains of anxiety. Lakin was right, I was paranoid and obsessed with the unlikely.

It had been approximately seventy-two hours since I last slept. I kept myself locked up in my apartment, avoiding everyone in the real world as well as in my dreams. I stared at myself in the mirror, prodding at the dark shadows that had taken up residency beneath my eyes. The first thirty-six hours weren’t too bad, but not long after, a sense of surrealism had begun to consume me. I lived on coffee, even though it seemed to have lost its influence around hour-forty. I spent the majority of my time as a zombie, sitting on the couch watching old British sitcoms, and laughing at jokes I didn’t really understand.

I was terrified at the thought of confronting Lakin about the incident with Eric. I hadn’t spoken to Mr. Smoochy-Face since he stormed out of Caf 1. The last time I could remember having a fight with him, I was around eight years old. He wouldn’t let me play with his new scooter, so I punched him in the face; we didn’t talk for an entire four hours. Our most recent conflict seemed significantly worse.

In the epitome of my forced insomnia, I imagined possibility after possibility of how Lakin could react when I told him about what had happened between me and Eric. The imaginings started with simple, heated arguments, but as my lack of sleep progressed, I began picturing fantastical things. I visualized Lakin willing a dragon into the Room to eat my face. I imagined him with a greasy, pointed mustache, villainously tying me up to a train track. I pictured him force-feeding me spoonful after spoonful of sauerkraut. I shuddered.

I was brought back from my imagination by a few loud raps at the front door. I wasn’t entirely aware of how my body was still functioning, but my feet managed to carry me through the living room. I glanced quickly to the microwave; four o’clock. I looked at my hologram-window to determine whether it was morning or afternoon. Little, chirping birds told me that I did not have a mysterious, late-night visitor.

I slowly pulled the door open to Al’s annoyingly cheerful face. It probably wasn’t actually annoying, but everything is irritating when you haven’t slept for a billion years. Al’s smile subsided when he noticed how horrendous I looked.

“
Are you okay? I haven’t seen you in a few days ago. You look awful!” Al observed, following me to the sofa.

“
Thanks,” I said sarcastically, burying my face in a mug of coffee that had gone cold.

“
I’m serious. Are you sick?” he asked, pressing the back of his warm hand to my forehead.

“
No, I just haven’t been sleeping well. Or at all,” I said, shoving his hand away from my face.

Al’s expression was unreadable, possibly because I was sleep-deprived.

“Well, you can tell me all about it in our first session,” Al said cheerfully, pulling a shiny new notebook out of his worn messenger bag.

“
Now?” I groaned, eyeing the notebook wearily.

“
Yes, now,” Al said, mocking my tone, “Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

I stopped to think for a moment, trying to decide on a good reason for my insomnia. My delay could have easily been attributed to my sleeplessness, but I was surprised to find that Al saw right through me.

“You’re trying to think of a good lie to tell me, aren’t you?” he said, still smiling as his frosty eyes pierced my soul.

“
No,” I lied, “Eric and I had a fight.”

Inwardly, I nodded to myself with satisfaction. It wasn’t technically a lie, and it was
kind of
the reason I didn’t want to sleep; I didn’t want to confront Lakin about it.

Al took to his notebook with a pen, shaking his head with a grin of disbelief. Even though I could tell he wasn’t buying into my story, he went along with it.

“What did you fight about?” he asked sincerely.

“
I don’t think that’s really any of your business,” I said conclusively.

“
I’m your psychologist. Everything is my business,” Al stated rather matter-of-factly.

“
Fine,” I said, sneering as I made myself comfortable on the couch. “We fought about you.”

“
Me?” he asked, the corners of his mouth curling upward slightly. “Why were you fighting about me?”

“
Eric seems to think William had an ulterior motive when he hired you,” I said plainly, as I rigorously examined my fingernails.

“
And what ulterior motive would that be?” he asked, propping his elbow on his lap to rest his chin in his palm.

“
Something about having me falling head over heels for you, so I inevitably confess everything I’ve never confessed to the raggedy old men and women before you,” I said, waving my hand at the idea.

“
Why does he think that?” Al questioned seriously.

“
I suspect because you’re young and charming,” I admitted. I looked up to study Al’s face. His eyebrows were creased in evident disappointment.

“
Handsome isn’t on the list?” he asked with a joking tone of resentment.

“
Whoa! Cover yourself up, your ego is showing!” I exclaimed, sharing a laugh with the man a few feet from me.

Young, charming, attractive; Al was all of those things, but I still detected something off about him. He was definitely hiding something, and I was determined to find out what.

“So your boyfriend doesn’t trust me. That’s why you were fighting?” Al asked, the reminiscent laughter slowly fading from his face.

I cringed at the word—
boyfriend
. It felt so unnatural. So accusatory. My ears felt as though they had caught fire, while simultaneously being stabbed by a thousand, tiny needles. Eric couldn’t be my boyfriend—he just
couldn’t
be. I forced back a sudden feeling of nausea, and nodded my head in response to Al’s question.

“
Something like that,” I said.

“
Do
you
think that’s why I was hired?” He didn’t seem to be asking just for my opinion; he was honestly curious.

The question flooded through my mind like a plagued river, contaminating every gooey crevasse of my brain. Though Eric’s reasons for distrust were based on jealousy, he did have a good point. Why else would William have hired a fresh, young psychologist who had only been out of school for a year? All of my previous therapists had been established for at least twenty years in the world of using words to prod patients’ brains; most of them had spent decades driving insane people back to sanity—sometimes vice versa. As talented as I was at coming up with off-the-wall theories, I couldn’t comprehend any other reason for Al’s presence in my room at that very moment.

“Yes,” I said blatantly.

Al fervently scribbled in his notebook for a few moments, a thoughtful look on his face. My thoughts returned to the paranoid feelings from a few days before, that the man sitting across from me was psychic. Paranoia combined with insomnia makes for a very dangerous concoction. I wondered if he was still listening to my thoughts—if he knew the real reason I wasn’t sleeping. As Lakin’s face meandered back into my head, Al suspiciously stopped writing. His wintry eyes sent chills down my spine, as a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to stop being so charming,” Al said with a wink.

I exhaled loudly, realizing I had been holding my breath during the short, unreasonable adventure in my mind. I chuckled nervously at Al’s words, attempting to feign normalcy.

“Honestly, Angie, I understand that we’re still strangers. I wouldn’t expect you to trust me right away. I certainly wouldn’t trust me if I were in your shoes. I don’t know exactly how your previous psychologists treated you, but from their notes I’m guessing less like a human being and more like a research project,” Al said sympathetically.

I was shaken. Nobody had ever called me a human being before. I was never entirely sure that I
was
one.

“
A lot of what I see in your file is that you were unwilling to answer certain questions. Now, if there’s something I’m supposed to be weaseling out of you, it wasn’t in my job description. As far as I’m concerned, I’m here to listen to whatever you need to talk about. Of course I want you to feel like you can trust me, but I know that I need to earn it,” Al said reassuringly.

It was the first time a therapist had actually spoken to me like a peer, as opposed to an inferior being. I realized that it could have all been part of William’s scheme, but Al seemed sincere. I could tell that he wasn’t lying; he truly wanted to earn my trust, and was unaware that there was information his predecessors had failed to get out of me.

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” I said honestly.

Al smiled with a nod, eyes sparkling with a type of friendliness that was uncommon within the walls of The Facility.

“So what would you feel comfortable talking about?” Al asked, leaning back in his seat.

“
What do you want to know?” I responded, unsure of where to start.

“
Let’s start with how you feel about being here. You’re obviously aware that this isn’t a normal life,” he noted, a touch of empathy in his voice.

Another question I had never been asked. None of my previous shrinks really seemed to care about my thoughts on the subject of being imprisoned my entire life. I was surprised to the point that I was uncertain how to answer.

“I don’t know. I’m just used to it, I guess. It’s not really something I think about. This is my life,” I said with a shrug.

“
Fair enough,” Al said, not pushing the matter. “Can you tell me about these amazing abilities you have?”

“
What about them?” I asked confusedly.

“
Have you had them your entire life? How do you manipulate elements?” Al questioned, taking to his notebook.

I sat up rigidly, my eyes narrowing as his words stabbed at my paranoia. The only people who ever described my abilities as ‘manipulating elements’ were the people I socialized with in my dreams. On top of that, how did he know I was only capable of manipulating elements? He had seen me turn water into a giant fortress of ice, but how did he know I wasn’t capable of doing more than just manipulating water, fire, air, and earth? Perhaps William, or one of the scientists told him.

“Well, I’ve been here my whole life – and my abilities are why I’m here, so I’m assuming I’ve had them since I was born,” I explained, shaking my apprehensions out of my mind. “And I’m not really sure how I do these things. It’s kind of like asking with my entire body. Then it just… happens.”

Al nodded, writing frantically as I spoke. I wondered if he was actually taking notes on the session, or if he was doodling something obscene and amusing. Just as that thought crossed my mind, Al stopped writing. A small grin spread temporarily over his lips, but it only lasted for a moment, before he returned to his scribbling. Suspicious.

“Tell me about those things on your wrists. Why do you have to wear them?” Al continued.

“
Because William doesn’t trust me,” I said with a sigh. “I tried to escape by using my abilities when I was younger—I flooded his office. He said they’re for everyone’s protection, including my own—he’s probably just upset that I ruined his favorite desk. If I start to use my powers, the Electro-Cuffs shock me.”

“
That’s what happened when I met you. What were you trying to do then?” Al inquired.

“
I…” I paused, looking for the words to best explain what happens when I go into someone’s mind. “When I touch someone, I can see things.”

“
Their thoughts?” Al asked, raising an eyebrow.

“
No, not exactly. It’s like... I can see and feel what they’ve experienced, but I see it and feel it from their point of view,” I said, wondering if I had explained in a way that could be understood.

Al stared silently at me, his eyes shifting slightly as he appeared to think over my words. I could see a look of determination plaguing his face, but I was unable to decipher what the determination was for. We sat there in the quiet for what seemed like an eternity, watching each other.

“I think that’ll do for today,” Al said finally, rising to his feet. “I was told it’s not customary for your therapist to attend your lab-runs, but I would like to come watch tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”

“
That should be fine,” I stated, standing to walk Al the short distance to the door.

My head spun slightly as slumber did its best to tear through me like a vulture. My limbs felt too heavy to be attached, and attempted to drag me downward. Al was quick to catch me, holding me up by a strong grip on my arm. He lowered me back down to the sofa with one hand, eyes inspecting me with worry.

“I’ll let myself out,” he said softly, making his way to the door. “And Angie… Get some sleep. It has to happen eventually.”

I stared blankly at the door as Al closed it behind him. My thoughts would have been racing, if I hadn’t been so incredibly tired. Still, pushing through my sleepiness, I felt my suspicions had been confirmed. Al could tell that I wasn’t just having troubles sleeping; he knew that I was actively keeping myself from sleep. How could he know that? As my body forced itself into a horizontal position on the couch, I continued to think. How could he possibly—