[Mature Content]
Stuck with knowing the emotions of everyone she ever met, Emilia is brought under the wing of one of her professors in her last year of university. She feels alienated by her abilities because she hasn't ever understood them. When H...
After our conversation died down, I stood from the chair and Harry followed me into his bedroom. I felt a little uncomfortable with his presence but pulled the comforter back and sat in his bed.
"This is weird," I expressed while he awkwardly sat on the edge of my, err his, bed like a father would while telling a bedtime story to his child.
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"Phone charger is right there if you need it," he pointed to his bedside table and to the black lightening cord coming from the wall.
"Thanks," I plugged my dead phone into the charger and then pursed my grin at him.
He pulled his brows in and pulled his bottom lip between his fingers while formulating his thoughts into words. I tried to sense his emotions but it was useless. He was back to being very difficult to read for me and I wondered why.
"I want to explain to you what it's like working with Dr. Topalli, or some of us just call him Dr. T..." he looked down at me then back at the ground while choosing his words carefully. "He's extremely rooted in his work. He takes it personally. A lot of who we directly work with, like the criminals and mentally ill, are... They're gifted too. Most of them are locked away because they can't function in daily society. They're likely to scare you, infuriate you, upset you, but they're people like you, people like my sister, people who are gifted but can't function because no one taught them how to control what they're able to do."
"They don't know what they're capable of?"
"Not most of them. I've met a handful that are functioning and aware of their specialties," his face was serious and I stared up at his smooth skin shadowed in the dark room with only the lamp lit up.
"Do you help them?"
"There is no helping them once they pass into that side of incarceration. The world can't know this is real," his hard jaw flexed.
"Why? We're people just like everyone else," I began to grow frustrated, but he explained his reasoning.
"It's more complicated than that," he began.
"So we can't help them?"
"No, what we do is strictly voluntary. You, me, everyone on our team is doing this to find answers on why this happens to people and the effects of it on daily life," he explained our work and a part of me began to grow disinterested about it. This sounded more and more like a science experiment and not an investigation.
"So this is just ethnography. It's not actually determining anything," I frowned realizing that we were all doing the bitch work. Everyone in that office working for Dr. Topalli was doing the detailed precision of explaining the outcomes and factors of people with abilities.
"Yes, but this work is being processed by others. This will help people by the time the world is ready to know about it," he furrowed his brows hoping to be as precise as he could.
