Chapter Three: 10:00 AM 07/23/2004 {Summer of 2004- Lincoln}
It had been close to two weeks, at least, that's what had been told to me. From what I could see on the cheap, old T.V in my hospital bed, the others had been "brought to the foster home as the PRT, and CPS joined together to disband a dangerous gang of runaways, and had taken in the parahuman "ringleaders" into the open, reforming arms of the Wards."
But from what little came through from the random bits of static, I failed to hear my name. There hadn't been any mention of me.
I had trouble feeling anything other than anger nowadays, like everything else was muted. But even that was a stretch.
The doctors called it "Disassociation". I called it "I had nothing left, so thinking about everything that was lost was more painful than simply ignoring it."
The police and doctors didn't let me out of their sight, as they tried to pry any information from what had been done to me from what they could observe.
But I didn't bother explaining myself. The face of Patty still haunted my dreams, the sight of a hand near my face paralyzed me.
It was CPS and the PRT. Nobody would do shit.
I had hated cursing before, it was a bad example for the younger kids in my group, but I couldn't bring myself to care anymore.
I didn't feel the slightest hope for what was beyond these walls. I would be tossed into the foster system, and the scars the doctors no doubt had found were proof of how flawed the system was.
But I didn't care. It was just a fact. I would get thrown back in, and best-case scenario, I would be taken in, and be treated slightly better than a breathing paycheck.
Maybe I would be able to go to school, but given my track record of "disappearing", most would have me under lock and key. I wheezed out a flat laugh.
I winced, as the stitch on my lip was particularly sensitive. The one on my eyebrow was less so, but maybe it was because I didn't really have more than one expression lately.
Worst case scenario, I would be thrown back into the foster home, left in the presence of everyone I had sworn on my life to protect.
Their eyes followed me into my nightmares, as a crowd of green eyes looked down on me, reflecting the emptiness in mine.
The hospital given me drugs, which helped the weight in my chest and throat lift, for a while. It was then that the doctors would make me do tests, but for what, I couldn't know.
The sounds of footsteps echoed near my door, and I realized that Ms. Perry must be here.
She always seemed to come right as my thoughts began to wander.
What would she say if she could see my nightmares?
Would she scream, like they said I'd been doing each morning?
My door opened, and I couldn't help but notice how her white uniform seemed to match the dull white of the hospital walls.
"Hello, Lincoln. How are you feeling today?" She asked, and I noticed the slight wrinkle in between her eyebrows.
She seemed worried.
I didn't respond immediately, still angry that they'd managed to find a medical file on me, and from that, learned my name, ruining any thoughts of lying to them about who I was. That meant that soon enough, they'd find out about the foster home, and, well, everything.
"I'm doing better, I think. I stated blandly, as my mind wandered back to Kate, and Tanner, the two young triggers that had been taken. Kate had been even smaller than me.
I had tried my absolute best to protect those two more than anyone. I knew how the PRT would react to two parent-less parahumans.
I had promised the they'd be safe. They'd trusted me.
Now they were just another three pairs of glowing eyes in my nightmares.
I looked up, and noticed how Ms. Perry's eyes were beginning to get red, and misty.
I think she was a parahuman. Maybe she was reading my mind.
I didn't care, though. It couldn't change anything. I would still be thrown to foster care, or to the foster home.
And nobody gave a fuck. Not about me, not about Kate, or Tanner, or any other of the fucking kids that had been abandoned.
The only thing I could be glad about in this mess was that, at the very least I wasn't a parahuman orphan, like Tanner or Kate- as heartless as it sounded, it was a strange comfort.
I sighed, and sunk into my bed, feeling drained. These two weeks had been heaven in hell, I think was what Patty used to sa-
I felt a stab of pain, and the lump in my throat seemed to get worse, something that started to become normal for me.
Some days, I wished I'd died. But that wish was dwarfed by the sheer size of my rage- only dulled, like the battered edge of a knife- especially with whatever drugs I'd been placed on.
The crystal-clear memories overwhelmed me most days, and they weren't going anywhere.
They replayed in my mind, and I was trapped in there with them.
I heard Ms. Perry clear her throat.
"Lincoln, I have something to tell you." She said softly.
"You're a parahuman?" I asked, my thoughts fading as I focused on the way her eyes opened a slight bit wider.
"Well, yes. I'm classified as a level two Empath." She said, and I nodded. It made sense, I think. Perhaps it'd been the reason she chose to be a doctor.
"But that's not what I wanted to tell you." She said, waiting for a sign to go on. Seeing my frown as one, she moved on.
"After some observation and some small tests I ran, I have reason to believe you may have triggered into a level one Thinker." She said, her voice softening as I felt fear begin to set in.
No. No no no no no no no.
Please.
"Ms. Perry, please. Is there way you can hide it? Shred everything with my name on it." I pled, feeling my heart thump as I felt the world shrink and twist around me. She had to know, right? What the PRT would do?
They were worse than the foster home.
The shell of apathy I had so carefully built was threatening to tear apart. I couldn't even have this one thing.
I felt the headache return, throbbing, as I looked at Ms. Perry.
She froze, feeling my fear, and desperation, no doubt. I couldn't bring myself to feel bad. Anything to stay out of the PRT.
I'd heard horror stories- kids being used as tools, stuck in the gray area of needing some sort of corporate or state surveillance- and once kids were in- especially without a parent to set limits to what they were allowed to become involved in- that's when the state organizations or companies like the PRT would step in, and say that the kids were at risk of leaking information, secrets- which could make them the targets of villains, but it was all horse-shit.
It was just another way for them to hide away the kids, change their names, have them fill out non disclosure contracts and disappear- I'd read about some of theories in the older, early-cape era of books, where the skeptics pointed out these darker happenings, and pushed for more transparency and movement for the rights of young triggers-
And now I was one.
My head was hit with another wave of pain as I felt my vision shrink in focus, with only her face making up my view.
She was the judge, jury and executioner of how my life was going to go.
She had to help me.
She sighed, and looked into my eyes, hesitating as the thought on what I said.
"I can't hide what you ar-"
"Pleas-" I cut in.
"-But there's no reason why I can't tell some of my... patients about a young trigger that needs a family." She trailed off, and I couldn't respond, as I tried process the huge implication of what she said.
"Of course, that would mean that maybe, in my rush, I'd forgotten to write down the young parahuman's name onto paperwork, that I would only remember to file in about, a week?" She said, and I felt something I hadn't felt in these past two weeks, at least without medication.
Hope.
"I- i..." I couldn't find the words.
"Thank you." I lamely said, but her smile hinted that she could feel how much I meant it.
I relaxed into bed, feeling exhausted after what I had learned.
Having parents was the best form of protection against the unmitigated power the PRT would have over me if I was alone.
But what mattered most was- that the newly triggered parahuman that had been diagnosed around a 'week' after I had been admitted had nothing to do with me.
A faceless boy found and lost, in the chaos of Brockton.