Lost Mind

seventeen

"Who the hell are you?" The small confused voice sliced through the silence.

Dread filled my insides as I realized I couldn't feel Malcolm's ability covering me. I turned around slowly, Malcolm mirroring my movements. A short boy stood a few yards away from us, a loose pair of aviator goggles hanging over his messy head. He seemed a few years younger than me, freckles sprinkling over his tanned skin. Not much of a threat. A quick problem to fix.

I licked my dry lips, raising my hands slowly. "Malcolm..." I murmured tersely. The little boy took a tentative step back as he eyes trailed down to Malcolm's waistband, where his gun was resting. My heartbeat pounded faster. We needed to fix this little hiccup now. The kid seemed as if he was two seconds from screaming and putting us in a deeper mess.

"Hey now, there's nothing to worry about." I said as I took a small step closer. My voice immediately turned soft and sugary. It was a tactic I had studied back home. The brain would stimulate less of that flight or fight adrenaline at the sound of calming sounds. It bought us a few more seconds. The boy's eyes widened in fear, flickering around in panic. "You got a weird accent..." He whispered with a frown. I dared to take another step closer.

The boy screamed.

I lunged toward him, shoving him back. He stumbled, his legs tangling with mine. We tumbled to the floor. The figurine hit the floor soundlessly. Instead of breaking into a million pieces, it expanded and grew into a thin packet of papers in a blur.

My eyes widened at the sight in bafflement a few inches before me. How curious, an object changing figurine. Perhaps it was some of parlor trick? Or connected to the boy's powers, if he had any. The boy crawled away from me and screamed more, jarring my thoughts. Malcolm dove to grab him but the kid let out another loose scream.

The door behind me flew open, a lanky boy stepping out. He was the exact replica of the younger boy, only his hair was less messier. He seemed around my age, only taller. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. "Let go of Jackson!" He yelled as he marched forward. I pushed myself to my feet, standing in his way. I removed a glove. "Go back to your room. You don't want to make things worse." I ordered, raising a hand.

The older boy's — Jace's — face tightened in determination. "Leave my brother alone." He growled, his fingers curling to fists at his sides. I frowned, why did American boys not listen? The younger boy screamed again, shortly met with a few thuds. Malcolm grunted in effort behind me, and I didn't need to turn around to know what he was doing. 

"Mom! Dad!" Jace screamed, panic stretching over his face. I lunged forward toward the boy. Jace was too slow, dodging just as my hands enclosed around his wrists. His flailing mind was wide open, bumping with mine as I latched control. I flinched, his loud thoughts bouncing off everywhere. Jace's body slackened, slumping to the ground and bringing me down with it. Another door flew open, snatching my attention.

A short Asian woman stumbled throughout the doorway, her wide eyes darting around the living in fear. A rather tall man was right behind her, his long hair rustled up. "Jace? Was that you, honey?" The mother called out. My eyes went over to Malcolm. My brother was crouched over the younger boy, eyes squinting in hard concentration.

The parents couldn't see us.

"Leah... quick." Malcolm muttered through clenched teeth. I looked back at Jace on the floor. His eyes were glassy, a sign he was still under my dominion. Sweat trickled down my back as I tried to concentrate. The boy's consciousness tried to fight back, little nudges that made me wince. I recalled the many lessons I had with Eddie, teaching how to infiltrate someone's mind.