Nonconformity | Henry Creel

Don't Apologize

"Would you rather we try the lamp again?"

"No."

"That's what I thought," He frowned at the troubled look on my face. "Don't be so nervous, Sixteen. You've done this before. Just remember to focus. If it's too much, we'll stop, okay?"

I nodded and closed my eyes.

The soft, electric pulse coiled at the pit of my stomach jumped to attention once it was called upon. It began saturating my entire body with its slow, syrupy waves of warmth. The feeling grew stronger the more I focused on it, and suddenly my eyes were darting back and forth. A moment later, I was standing in suffocating darkness.

At first, I was confused. Was this my subconscious? No matter where I looked, the black stretched on. My entire body felt constrained, like I'd been sealed in an airtight bag. My fingernails left crescent moons in the flesh of my palm as my worry reached new depths.

Something dripped in the distance. It echoed around the blackness, beckoning me closer. With slow, unsure steps, I made my way nearer. A small ball of light formed just a few feet ahead, and the dripping stopped. I swiped at the spot, but my fingers passed through without hindrance. Confusion took hold.

For no apparent reason, the spot began growing. I stepped away, breath caught in my throat. Some aspects of it were solid, some liquid, some gas. They all danced around one another, soundless, brushing together and then separating.

Focus.

My steady, centering breaths echoed from every direction. A harsh, low hiss was the only indicator that something had changed. The spot transformed into two anamorphous figures. With nothing but sheer desperation, I willed the figures into focus.

It was Peter. A girl and Peter, sat at a table. My eyes went wide when I realized that girl was me. She sat straight-backed, inhaling deeply every few moments. Her eyes flitted back and forth beneath her lids.

"Woah," I whispered.

The girl repeated after me.

"Where are you?" Peter's voice was thunderous, echoing around in the emptiness with furious vehemence. Just like the dream. I briefly lost focus, and the entire image began to turn to static. The girl's face, my face, flickered in and out of focus.

"It's... glitching?" I didn't quite know how to describe it, "Like television static."

With achingly slow motions, Peter's blurry figure grasped the girl's hand. As he did, I felt a sudden warmth on my own flesh. I brought my hand up in front of my face and wiggled my fingers.

My gaze shifted from the girl to him. Peter watched her closely, silently analyzing each breath, each twitch of her face, each sigh. "Focus, Sixteen," His voice reverberated all around me, caressing my flesh like his fingertips had only hours before. "You're almost there."

I did as he asked. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the slow, lulling of power that ran through my veins. I coaxed it with my gentle breaths, bending it to my will until I knew my task had been completed. I opened my eyes, and as expected, the figures were back in focus.

"I did it," The girl and I announced simultaneously. Her lips slowly formed into a smile. Peter watched, eyes half shut as though he were in a daze, and then a grin overtook his face. It wasn't his polite, gentle smile. This was an excited, hopeful twisting of his face that made my heart thump against my rib cage until I feared it would burst.

I took a few steps closer to the table, eyes shamelessly glued to Peter. My breaths fell in synch with his, and I was almost convinced we were the very same being. The girl sighed a soft, content sigh. I reached shaking, unsure fingers towards Peter. His hair was styled as it usually was. I did not know what the style was called, but it was my favorite nonetheless.