At the ER

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"Sophie, wake up."

Is she OK? What can I do to help?

"Sophie, can you hear me? Are you OK? What can I do to help?"

It was an echo of what I'd heard before. I had never been more confused.

Suddenly, lots of things were echoed in real life. 

From her mom: Oh no. Oh no. How did this happen?  echoed into "Mr. Forkle, how did this happen?"

From her dad: Sophie, oh Sophie. Is she going to be okay? What's happening, why does she look pained? echoed into "Doctor, will Sophie be alright? She looks pained."

I couldn't bear it anymore. The extra voices, what were they? Was I dead? Was I hearing... I had absolutely no idea what I was hearing. There was no logical explanation. I began crying. 

Surprisingly, it was Mr. Forkle who came to calm me down. He came over to my bedside and stroked my hair, his hand lingering on my temples. 

I hiccupped when a strange sensation came over me. It was like I just placed the last piece of a puzzle in place. 

It was thoughts I was hearing. What everyone was thinking!

Mr. Forkle smiled at me. From him, I heard: Ah, Sophie. So strong. She understands.

I didn't understand. How did I hear thoughts? Telepathy wasn't a thing. Humans can't read minds! I shouldn't be able to read minds? What had happened? Did my fall cause this? But that's impossible, there's no way —

I had to ask. I still wasn't trained in medicine or science, but I knew humans can't read minds. So I thought asking a doctor would help. He should know, at least. So when my doctor, Dr. Brown, came in, I tried to convince him. 

He ignored me at first. He turned to my parents and listed off my injuries — a twisted ankle, a concussion and some nasty bruises and scratches. Nothing too bad. 

It was when he came over to check on me and my concussion that I asked him, "Dr. Brown, I think something is wrong with me." 

He looked appalled. "What is it? A headache? We have some pain medicine. Oh, no, is it a throbbing? I hope the pain medicine works for that too. Is something damaged? Your brain? Can you hear me? See me? Do we need to undergo surgery? Now? it's not too late to do it now. just say so." 

"No, no," I said quickly. 

"Please tell us if something is wrong, Sophie," my mother said, worry lines etching her face. "It's best to find out that something bad has happened now before it worsens." 

"No!" I cried. "It's just... I think that... Is it possible that humans can... read minds?" I asked.

"...Read minds?" Dr. Brown asked. 

"Yes," I clarified. 

"No, we can't. Why?" he asked.

"It's just..." I stammered. Should I tell them? "I think I can,"

Dr. Brown just stared at me. "You... think you can read minds," he said.

"Yes?" I said uncertainly.

"Are you sure nothing is damaged? I can take an X-Ray now..." he said worriedly.

"No, no," I knew the rays were bad for me, and I wasn't sure you could even see telepathy in an X-Ray. "I'm sorry, the concussion must be taking its toll on me," 

Dr. Brown visibly relaxed. "I see, then. You'll just have to spend a few nights here. I assume one of you will stay with her?" he turned to my parents.

"Yes, I will," my mother volunteered. "Thank you so much, Dr. Brown."

He nodded and said something else, but I tuned him out. 

I was human, and humans don't read minds, Dr. Brown had said. He seemed to think — no, wait, he was thinking — that I was delusional. But I was pretty sure it was thoughts I was hearing... so what does this mean?

And if I could read minds... then my life will be changed forever.

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