Sophie let the words sink in for the moment, telling herself she was waiting for Fitz's reaction. Really she was just scared of how he'd react. Everything he had told her was true and Sophie hated thinking about it. She hadn't let herself think about Edaline and Grady and their pain at losing another daughter. She hadn't let herself think about their friends, or how much they missed her. Sophie knew they would, even if a small part of her would always tell her she was worthless and not worthy of her friends.
Of course Fitz would be angry: he had every right to be. But he wouldn't understand why she left. No one would. Sophie had always been dangerous, with her stronger-than-normal telepathic and inflictor abilities, not to mention she was created in a lab and was a personified punch against nature. But with the ability to set fires and kill people, just as Brant had killed Jolie... just as Fintan had killed Kenric. She was firm in her belief that what she did was right.
But she knew Fitz wouldn't see it that way, and he might never see it that way.
When Fitz kept staring at her with those empty and confused eyes, Sophie repeated, "I manifested as a pyrokinetic." Damn, if only she was an empath and could know what Fitz was feeling. Fitz's eyes lowered to the ground slowly as he processed the information. Sophie thought about taking a step forward, maybe holding his hand, but that would have made the conversation harder.
Sophie wiped her clammy hands on her dress and tried to build on her explanation, "I don't know how I did it Fitz, I wasn't in any situation that could have explained how or why I manifested. I just did."
Fitz spoke again, not meeting Sophie's eyes and keeping his head down, "But... Mr. Forkle told you that the Black Swan didn't make it possible for you to manifest as a... Sophie, it isn't possible!" He raised his head again, finally looking straight into Sophie's eyes. She couldn't stand it, the teal color that had made butterflies erupt in her stomach in the past just made her stomach clench now. She swallowed twice, trying to keep the fruit punch from the dance down.
"Again, I don't know how or why it happened. It just did." Sophie turned away from Fitz, unable to look at him anymore. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if she was trying to hold herself together. "But I took care of it."
Sophie clenched her eyes shut as another wave of pain hit her head, as if speaking about her ability made it want to burst from her head.
"What do you mean, 'you took care of it?'" Fitz asked her. If he had noticed Sophie's wince from her headache, he said nothing.
"Livvy's the one who helped me and-"
"Livvy helped you?" Fitz interrupted her, pure wrath evident in his voice. "She's been helping us search! She's comforted your parents! She's the one who helped Keefe when he-"
"What happened to Keefe?" Sophie said sharply, turned around and dropping her hands. If Keefe did one more reckless action, it was on Sophie. And god knows Sophie wasn't worth it.
Fitz shook his head, though his jaw clenched. "The point is she could have said something, said anything! Instead she... what did she do?"
"She borrowed books from Quinlin's office on mental suppression."
"Mental suppression!?" Fitz yelled this so loud that he winced and looked behind him to make sure no one heard him. "Sophie, that's awful. You know what Tiergan said about using those methods!"
Sophie didn't even know what to say to that. Yes, she had listened to Tiergan's lecture on mental suppression and even had written an essay showing she understood the concept. It was dangerous and unhealthy, and her paper had reflected those same themes. But there wasn't any other way for Sophie to keep the humans around her safe.
Mental suppression was the act of suppressing abilities. It wasn't healthy for any elf to undertake it, as it put a great strain on the mental balance of the brain, and could even threaten to break a mind, as if it would have been by guilt. It wasn't common. It was actually very rare, only done by those who were trying to hide an ability or forced upon young children who manifested an ability that their parents didn't wish for them to have.
It could be done by those who didn't have the ability of a telepath, but having the ability definitely helped Sophie do hers.
The process wasn't long, nor was it difficult, but it was very painful. During the process and after, and Sophie wasn't counting on the pain going away anytime soon.
"I'm being careful, Fitz," Sophie told him softly. "I'm monitoring it, and my mind's not about to break."
Fitz shook his head so violently, Sophie wouldn't be surprised if it flew off his shoulders. "You don't know that Sophie, you know how it works. It can happen slowly, you might not even notice. Let me take a look," he said, reaching his hands out and taking a step towards Sophie. His fingertips barely grazed Sophie's temples before she staggered back, hitting the lockers.
"No!" She cried out. "No, you'll just undo everything!" If he had the chance to, his mind was strong enough to break through the chains that was holding every single one of her abilities down. And though the throbbing in her head that had now reached her brain stem begged her to just let him do it, to let him free her of the pain, she knew she couldn't.
Fitz's eyes flashed and he stalked back across the hallway, pacing. "Sophie, I'm going to have to come back with someone." He stopped, and looked straight at Sophie, his eyes melting into more of a pleading look. "Please Sophie, just come back with me now. It'll make everything so much easier."
"Fitz, I don't think you understand," Sophie told him, her hands now shaking from anxiety and adrenaline. "I can't. Go. Back. I've always been a dangerous freak, and now I'm an even more dangerous freak. I know you don't get it, but you'll see someday how right I am. This is for your own good, Fitz."
Fitz glared at Sophie with such an intensity that it made her take a step back. Fitz would never hurt her... would he? Instead he said, "You're so selfish Sophie. I can't even stand to look at you." Without another beat he spun on his heel and stalked out the hallway, leaving Sophie alone.
Again.
She didn't even have time to process all the things she could cry about before an ugly and twisted sob burst out of her. And once it started, she couldn't stop.
She cried for her parents and her friends who missed her and were overextending themselves to try and find her. She cried for Nick and Andrew and Meredith, all of whom she was lying to. She cried for the pain she was feeling, both the pulsing in her skull and the emotional mess she was inside.
But most of all, she cried for the life she left behind. Not just her family and friends, but the sense of belonging she felt in the Lost Cities. She might have been a freak, but she always had belonged there more than she had belonged anywhere else.
She stood crying in the hallway, backed up against a locker with her hands over her face for what seemed like hours. And after a while, she lost track of why she was crying, and just kept sobbing because she wanted to. She needed to.
A pair of soft footsteps interrupted Sophie sobs and she looked up through tear-stained eyelashes and runny mascara to see her best friend standing in front of her.
Dex.
And they stood there for a moment, just staring at each other. Sophie's lungs felt like they had the wind knocked out of them.
But after only 13 seconds of just staring at each other, Sophie let another sob burst from her throat and she held out her arms, a silent request.
Dex didn't hesitate before he complied, wrapping his arms around his friend like he would never let go again.
Hope everyone's quarantine is going good! I know everybody feels differently about our current situation, but I am personally thriving.
Not wasting time with apologies this time because frankly I don't care to write them yet again and I'm sure you don't want to hear them again.
However, thank you everyone who has stuck with the story! And thanks for everyone who asks me to update; I'm not annoyed by it, it actually makes me really happy.
Anyway onto something more serious.
I turned 17 today, but Breonna Taylor didn't get to turn 27 yesterday. George Floyd will never turn 47. Tamir Rice will never turn 13. The list goes on and on, and is filled with so many black men and women and children that have been killed by law enforcement in our country. Change has to happen.
I have white privilege, and I will never be able to fully understand what African Americans have to go through on a daily basis. My job is not to lead, but instead to listen to and support the voices of POC. I encourage you all to do what you can: to march and protest, to donate, to send emails to politicians, or even sign petitions.
Just a reminder that black lives matter, and silence is compliance.
Love you all, and stay safe.
Jannie