Excerpt from working novel, “Radio”

Breathe Radio. For the love of God, just breathe. Breathe and face Feather, I thought only in my own mind.

Despite, the strong urge to turn and look upon Feather’s handsome and serene face, burying myself against his chest, my feet remained planted right where they were currently on the floor. If I only could just straighten this whirling of emotions in my mind and ground myself without Feather. Though I could still feel his comforting hand on my shoulder, I closed my eyes and tried to remind myself that the twins took every precaution to make sure G-M operatives couldn’t follow us after Surge collected and destroyed all of the bugs installed throughout my childhood home this morning. And like Surge had said earlier in the van, this area was surrounded by granite which would cause the operatives’ tracking equipment to malfunction… although, I reckoned it would only do so to a certain extent anyways but what did I know about electronic devices in comparison to him and his ability to detect and manipulate electrical devices and currents.

I also attempted to grasp for a hope that this place would keep us safe longer than the other houses we had moved to. Allowing me to finally put this constant obsessive and nonsensical paranoia of G-M operatives always being three steps a head of us away for good, though I knew perfectly well they wouldn’t stop coming for all of us. Not as long as I, the abomination of all abominations, with my two abilities instead of just the one was still alive. Nonetheless, my efforts to self-sooth myself without Feather’s assistance became futile, when the sudden wish that my mother was still here overtook my whole being. If she was here, she would have been able to tell me just what I needed to hear because she knew how G-M operatives tended to think and strategized more than my entire unit ever could because of the fact she had been under their control longer. Well, putting the new regulations aside, of course. And if she was still alive, I could be free of my feelings of stupidity and confusion with a single gentle caress along my cheek. While Feather also had the ability to calm my nerves too, it was different— much, much different. And in spite of my longing for her presence and how much I swore I heard her voice in my mind back at my childhood home, she would never be here again. Now if I actually believed I heard her voice in my mind, it would be some major Star Wars, Obi Won Kenobi. Look, I can only imagine you may be think that there is no way a sixteen year old abomination, enslaved for seven years with military training alongside honing my abilities, wouldn’t know a whole lot or anything about popular culture, but you’d be wrong. My parents were still together, more specifically my dad, they made sure I watched the original trilogy. They claimed the films were a classic and a must see. And in my mind are still the only ones to exist, prequels or the others to follow just a figment of someone else’s imagination. Yes, I’m a bit of Star Wars geek. It’s one of more charming and attractive qualities. But I digress.

Nonetheless and in all seriousness communicating telepathically from beyond the grave wasn’t real or possible, as much as I wished it had been. It was also as fictional as clinging to the idea that my mother’s death didn’t happen and that at any moment I would wake up from this nightmare. But unfortunately her death was the one thing I knew wasn’t fictional and it knocked the wind out of me. Had Feather’s hand hadn’t been there to steady me, I would have certainly crumbled to the basement floor into a ball of self pity. Yet, the burning agony and guilt of being the cause of her death residing heavily in my chest. The guilt of not believing her sightings of Grey-M operatives was so suffocating, like tornado storm brewing and rising to form large not in the pit of my throat that I feared I might gasp for any available fresh air causing me to release a sonic boom before I had a chance to clamp both of my hands to prevent it. But falling to the folly of loss, as much of it being a normal reaction, wasn’t going to bring her back. So I wiped away the tears starting to form, hating this feeling of vulnerability in front of another, regardless of it only being Feather— the only one I could be my true self with.

However, my mind drifted unexpectedly on another unrealistic wish that had I been born a normie, the paranoia relating to Grey-M operatives, the guilt in my part leading to my mothers death and for that matter, my father’s strange and mysterious disappearance would being s piece of fiction too. If I had been born a normie and not an abomination, all these things I was working myself up about wouldn’t exist. I also wouldn’t have to worry about such things like causing harm to those I cared about from a single sneeze or whisper. If I was a normie, then maybe my parents would still be together and alive. I would be able to speak aloud and not be forced to communicate telepathically. The only things I would have to worry about were whether a boy liked me, going shopping with my friends or whether I would get into a good college…. You know normal girly stuff. Not whether if I could assemble a weapon in under 15 seconds, be forced to see and perform the atrocities I couldn’t erase from my memories or if operatives had been able to find my unit and me. I know what you might be thinking, if I had been, I would never have met any of the members of my unit— the only family I had left. And I would never have met Feather, my best friend in the whole world.