Devour

Chapter 29 - Cora

Why did I immediately adopt the sad burnt hobo that knew my name and what type of bar soap I use? That is a question I ask myself often. But you see, it looks very sweet in that too large sweatshirt and it gave me a weapon like ten minutes after we met and damn that was a high bar I set and he passed it with flying colors. Being sweet, polite, considerate, and giving me a powerful weapon as a present. Very high unique bar. However, here he is, on my sofa, levitating things to himself when he needs them so as not to use his mostly disfigured hands.

"Here, I've done some research," I say, turning my laptop to him.

"It's going to be quicker if you explain I'll take your word for it---I can't read quickly at all," he confesses, slowly lowering a mug of tea to my coffee table. Without using his hands. I got used to that like five minutes ago and now I'm going with it.

"All right," I say, taking the laptop back, and closing it.

"What---you've got it memorized?" he asks, amused but not surprised.

"Obviously---so like I said, there are many theories that we live in a multiverse—"

"What does that mean?"

"That means that there are multiple histories existing at once, meaning that in one history psychics exist, in another they don't, and so on," I explain, "But, since you're here instead of where you're supposed to be, that means that it is possible to move between these realities---and it must have something to do with your abilities."

"I can manipulate electricity---and obviously move stuff," he says, "But I don't think I even did it---I think Pasch, one of the kids---did-- almost by mistake maybe?"

"You'd know if you did it?" I confirm.

"Yeah, I was worn out---we were having a fight with him and I was already bleeding," he explains, "Once we start bleeding we can only keep going so long before permanent damage is done."

"Brain damage?"

"Yeah, or blood vessels breaking in other important places----point being I doubt if I'm even strong enough to do that---I certainly wasn't then after struggling against Pasch," he says.

"Why were you struggling with him?" I ask, "Where were the other children?"

"In bed----Pasch based off of his DNA has something like thirty times more mutations than I do, and I'm not bad---yet throughout his childhood he'd never displayed any psychic abilities. Last evening---for me—you and I thought he might've been manipulating electricity. We were on our way to ask him if he had been when he confronted us, angry, started using telepathy with at least me, trying to slam us into the walls. I resisted him mostly but it took all my effort, then somehow he had the means to set us on fire and he did---the last thing I remember before waking up here is that you were dying and I was trying to put the flames out," he says.

"Not the first time you'd been burned?" I ask, it feels insensitive but I do need to know if these healed burns are from that incident or a previous one.

"No---all this happened years ago, I've got first degree burns on my arms and legs and chest now but nothing serious-----oh don't get up and get something," he sighs as I certainly do get up to get ointment and wash my hands. He's lucky I keep burn ointment and things around.

"You're at risk for infection we can talk just as well while I look, pull up your shirt," I instruct, making him lie down.

"I just took the sweatshirt from  a shop and the pants, it's all fine are fine-----see fine," he says, taking off the sweatshirt despite the protests.

"Those are second degree, idiot," I mutter, checking the wounds, "That one already looks infected. If you weren't an undocumented citizen I'd take you to the hospital."

"I hate bloody hospitals, all dark and miserable everybody sick," he mutters, as I wash the wounds which it looks like he didn't do.

"Yeah, that's the general idea of hospitals----anyway why would this—Pasch? Have been so angry with you—us—over our finding out he's psychic I mean we sort of knew he was psychic you said?" I ask.

"That's the thing there was no real reason for him to be that upset---we weren't even angry we just wanted to know. I don't know if he lashed out by mistake or---he always had, I don't know, tantrums, and he never really meant what he said or did----I just have to get back and find him," Errol sighs, wiggling a little.

"Well we're going to figure it out, it's not like you can stay here forever," I say with every intention of keeping him forever.