Scattermind

Chapter 1

"Let me go—!" he yelled, struggling to free from his restraints. The knots wrapped around his hands pulled tight. The chair he sat on almost tipped. Other soldiers came to hold him down.

This always happens. I have seen this sight a dozen times now. The guards behind me ushered me forward, "It's time."

It's time. Of course it is.

I walked forwards with small steps. Everyone's gaze snapped towards me: some with fear, others with interest. I lived with them; broke bread with them, but even now I felt their distrust prick away at me. Many gathered around, and a circle formed around.

With eyes held down, I was brought before the prisoner. I knew what I had to do. It was always the same task, but that didn't make it any easier.

I breathed in as much as my chest allowed me. I needed to steady myself. I needn't let my thoughts astray, else I risked jeopardizing the job.

I gently put my hands around his head. I could feel him struggling.

The guards forced his head straight.
"Stop moving!"

"Wait— What are you doing?!"

This is when they typically begin to fight harder. When they feel my presence in their mind. When I overlap my will with theirs.

Relax.

The prisoner's body seized up.
"You're— you're in my head!"

He started yanking on the restraints. The rope tightened again, biting flesh with ease. I clenched my fists. His emotions slammed back into me. The pain he felt around his wrists echoed as if it was my own.

Stop resisting, please.

One's head is often thought of as a safe haven— barring torture. But even through inhumane cruelty, some manage to resist. For them, their secrets are worth dying for, if it means for them to remain unspoken.

"Get out—!" he screamed again.

Now is when the weight of realisation finally sets in. My presence in their mind becomes overwhelming. They can no longer push me out.

The outer world vanishes before me. It turns to sand, which is soon washed away. The people around melt into the same fine dust.

Tunnels open before me. A dozen– hundred doors, spanning as far as the eye can see. I walk these winding hallways. They shift before me. Doors turn into landscapes. Memories form and vanish. And I search for the needle in the haystack.

For the inexperienced, it would be a futile endeavor. By the time I was to see all the scapes, the mind would rot.

But secrets— the ones you want to keep hidden from the world, are often hidden behind lies. And a lie is a thought. Recently formed, and spoken loud. This often leaves a trail one can pick up and follow.

"Please— get— out..."

These words vibrate heavily throughout the mindscape. His frail mind was unable to keep mine out of their bounds. I continued forthwith, following the trail left by attempts to hide what I searched for.

The floor I tread on shook heavily— a tremor. Fear that turns into pain as they struggle to push against me. His mind was reaching a critical point. The corridors shifted again. My body twisted in impossible ways. And my mind forced it back together.

But his thoughts led me to my needle. He forced himself to think of everything else but what I wanted to find. In doing so, he unknowingly aided me by showing what not to search for.