*****I let T & B read a little, they said put it out there, so here it is.

****Please read the author note at the bottom.

***Chapters may be short.

**Pyejammies beta'd.

*I claim all stupidity and mistakes.


telepathy:
(n.) The sympathetic affection of one mind by the thoughts, feelings, or emotions of another at a distance, without communication through the ordinary channels of sensation. / communication between minds by some means other than sensory perception.

1882, coined (along with telæsthesia) by Eng. psychologist Frederic Myers(1843-1901), from tele- "far" + -pathy "feeling." Telepathic was first recorded in 1884.


1001 - Chapter 1, An Introduction to Edward Masen

I, Edward Masen, am a loner.

That had been proven one day at the young age of eight when I had confided in my mother that I could hear things, more specifically, I could hear the thoughts inside people's minds without them having speak a word.

The next day she had me committed.

I quickly learned that mind reading wasn't the norm, that it made me a freak, an outcast. So much of one that my only family member didn't want me around. As she walked away—down that long hallway—away from me, as my arms were being restrained by two orderlies, she cried. Through her tears she apologized over and over, sobbing that she was frightened of me.

I'll never forget watching her leave and that feeling of abandonment, that hollowness inside my chest that pulsed and swelled.

So I did what any other eight year old kid would do, I lied.

I swore I had made it all up to gain attention and somehow, that lie, was accepted more than the truth had been.

That fib didn't make things better though, because my mother never came back to that mental hospital for me. Soon I was shipped from foster home to foster home, never in one place for long.

The next ten years of my life I learned how to survive on my own. Yes, I had people who provided me with a roof over my head, clothes to wear, and food to eat. But I never had trust or devotion or the love of a family.

As much as I could, I cut myself off from the world. I read and studied on my telepathy and searched for ways to control it, to turn it off.

I didn't even want it.

Needless to say, mind reading made me loathe people. Their thoughts were ugly and mean, even toward ones they truly loved.

I felt alone.

I felt cursed.

I felt damned.

Then when I was fifteen, I finally fell in love—with music.

I listened to it all—any type of music would do—but classical was my favorite. I considered it a miracle because music could do something for me that nothing else could do—music could block me.

Music somehow cut the sound wave of thoughts from other people that my mind could attune to, severing it before it reached me. The music had to be loud, and it had to be direct, and it had to be confined to me.

I penny pinched and saved to buy some of those expensive headphones, the noise canceling ones. The big, round type that covered your whole ears. When wearing them I could almost feel normal.

I would turn up Debussy loud on my cheap mp3 player and then I could comfortably leave my house. I could actually walk down the street and hear nothing but piano keys and a beautiful melody. No voices, no fears, no worries, no complaints, no lies, no truths.

I still kept from making eye contact with strangers, doing so was a magnifier for me. The thought waves were strong when eye contact was made. Strong enough to be heard over my music. So walking, living, existing with my head held down was how it had to be.

Even through all the dysfunction of my adolescence and my youth, I was a super smart guy, a so-called genius. I graduated with honors and received an academic scholarship to Yale.

With extreme determination I took the scholarship, excelled, and graduated. It was never easy, but I did it all on my own.

Soon after I moved here to Chicago.

Other than that one time when I was eight, I never spoke again about my freak ability, and with my ever changing surroundings, it was soon forgotten by those around me.

Forgotten by everyone but me. I still could read minds. I still couldn't have close friends or a steady girlfriend because I knew—I knew it all. Everything from within the deep recesses of their mind. Even when I didn't want to know.

People were crude and nasty by nature.

I found myself better off without them.


So, I realized the other day whilst sitting and blankly staring at my laptop that some days I needed something a little deeper to write than Losing Game, which is about 2 high school kids all silly and stupid. I need adulthood, depth, maturity, drama, struggles, etc. I think that's what was blocking me, so I watched a movie and presto, this lil' plot bunneh was born. The summary is from a recent movie, double-chocolate Edward points to you if you know it! ;)

As this comes to me, I WILL WRITE IT. I make no promises other than I will finish it. It's not an angst fest, but there will be drama. If you need to know more, please review/PM me. I don't plan for it to be too lengthy.

Twitter: Mrs_Robward

If you are on FB, I have one of those private group page-things, if you want it. We chat frequently there about all sorts of stuff. it's called: MrsRobward's Fanfiction Closet

(insert hearts here) Reviews are love (and here)