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It was a government facility, she was pretty sure. She was equally sure that most of the government had no idea what was going on there. If they did, someone would have shut this place down a long time ago.
It wasn’t quite torture, per se. They never laid a hand on them physically. They never quite crossed the line outwardly. If any typical person walked in, they wouldn’t even bat an eye. But the constant psychological pressure, constant noise, was maddening to the telepaths they were ‘housing’ there.
According to their captors, they weren’t imprisoned. They could leave any time they wanted to. But then the psychological games started. They were helping the world by staying and participating in the tests. They would never be accepted into society if people knew what they could do. This was the only place they would be safe. Accepted. Trusted.
Loved.
It was all lies, of course. They all knew it was nothing more than a carefully crafted illusion. But those little seeds of doubt had been sown for far too long. The guards knew what they were doing, combining their spoken words, and calculated leaked thoughts to ensure that no one would ever leave. As far as she knew, no one had ever tried.
It had been years since she had last seen the sun. It had been years since she’d had an actual conversation with another human being that didn’t consist of barked orders or brusque commands.
Her days were always the same. Wake up to the same boring mush for breakfast. Someone came into her ‘room’ and escorted her to her ‘office’, a sterile white room where she spent hours every day working on puzzles, science experiments or math equations, all with a variety of psychological attacks while working.
She had thought she was pretty good at shielding before she had been brought here, but those early attacks had often brought her to her knees, incapacitating her for hours. It was better now, long experience making her able to function through most of their attempts, only seriously affected when they got particularly creative.
They had come up with quite a few new ideas recently, and she was feeling particularly raw, shields cracked and crumbling. But still she pushed through. She knew the consequences if she failed.
The math they had laid in front of her today would have been easy for her on a good day. She used to love math, the consistency of the numbers a comforting refuge. But years spent forced to continue working through the mild headaches of a weak test, or the blinding, mind-numbing pain of a new, creative attempt had drained the joy.
Today was no exception. She tried to shut everything else out and focus solely on the equations in front of her. For a few minutes, the math came easily, left alone as she was. Then they started their ‘tests’.
First, it was simple things. A random mental shout to try to distract her. A sensation of creeping dread that always made her feel slightly on edge, but wasn’t enough of a distraction to pull her from her work.
Then they escalated. The sensation of bugs crawling all over her skin. The nagging feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong. She tried to shore up her mental shields, but they were too worn to be effective. A headache started to bloom, centered behind her left eye.
She doggedly continued to work, but they continued to escalate until she started to falter. After thirty minutes of the same song over and over, the headache had grown to a stabbing pain, and she was forced to close her eyes, shoving her hands against her closed lids to try to alleviate the pain.
She knew it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t truly in pain. It was all an illusion. Nothing was wrong with her body, it was only psychological. But no one could endure that level of pain without attempting something, however futile, to help.
The pain spread throughout her skull, sending tension down her neck and back. Nausea turned in her stomach. They hadn’t pushed her this far in a long time, and she was rapidly losing control. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she screamed against the pain.
Suddenly, everything went quiet. The pain didn’t leave, that would take days, but at least it was no longer growing. She didn’t move, trying to take advantage of every moment of her reprieve, however brief.
But it stayed quiet. There were people there. She could feel their shields. But their minds were locked down tightly, not allowing even a whisper of their thoughts to escape. Not even the guards had that kind of iron control. What was happening out there?
It was a long time before anyone entered the room, and the blinding pain had lessened somewhat, to the point she could at least function. She gathered the tattered remnants of her shields into an approximation of the control she once had. Forcing herself to her feet, she grabbed the pencil from the desk and gripped it tightly in her hand, peeking cautiously though the door. She didn’t know what was happening, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.
The hallway was clear, and she tiptoed through the doorway. She didn’t know which way was out, but picked a direction at random. Any way was better than sitting there wondering.
It was quiet, more quiet than she had ever seen the facility, more empty. She moved through silent corridors for what felt like ages, hesitating at each corner to check that the hallway was clear. She was so focused on what was in front of her that she forget to pay attention behind, until the slight scuff of a boot caught her attention.
She spun around, pencil already stabbing down threateningly. The man in front of her deflected the blow easily, knocking the pencil from her hands and grabbing her wrists in one smooth motion, while still being careful not to hurt her.
“I’m here to help.” He promised gently. His voice sounded sincere, but she couldn’t be sure. Her trust had been shattered long ago, and she refused to fall for their illusion of safety ever again.
She reached out towards his mind, which was still blessedly quiet. He wasn’t lying. Which meant that maybe he was actually here to help.
“I’m with the United States government. Major Jeff Tracy. We’re shutting down this whole operation, and erasing all of the records. As soon as you have a clean bill of health from our doctors, you’re free to go.”
“Go where? The world will never accept me.”
“Maybe, if they knew what you could do, some people wouldn’t trust you. But most people are better than you give them credit for. Besides, all records from this place are being wiped. As far as the world knows, there are no such thing as telepaths. Your powers don’t exist.”
“Is it possible? Could I truly be free?”
“I promise. Now let’s get you to medical, miss-“
“Lucille. Lucille Evans.” She took his hand, following him out of the building into the sun. The light nearly blinded her, combining with her headache to bring her to her knees.
He lifted her up, looping her arm over his shoulders and leading her out of the light into the medical tent they had set up just outside the entrance. Inside, a number of doctors and nurses in white coats bustled around, their minds all carefully shielded.
Her fellow prisoners were scattered about on beds, some of them looking almost normal, while others were hunched over in pain. Jeff led her over to an empty bed, staying with her while he flagged down a doctor to help.
One glance at her and the doctor was already readying an IV line, fixing the needle with practiced hands. The relief of whatever medicine he had given her was almost instantaneous, and she let the wave of peace roll over her. The last thing she remembered was Jeff’s hand in hers, and the world faded away.
*******************************************
On her wedding day, Lucille looked straight into the eyes of the man who had saved her and promised to love him forever. She had been told for years that love was an illusion. That people like her would never be worthy of happiness. It had taken time for Jeff to tear down those walls she had built around her heart. His love was true. Jeff had finally convinced her of that.
And she couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life loving and being loved.
For real.