Unconsciously, my chest is rising and falling. And I only realize that at the quiet expression 'Mike' is looking at me with, and the sudden awareness of the air I'm exhaling again and again through my nostrils.
I don't even have it in me to rue my lack of significant curves. If I had relief bigger than small hills in my chest, the movement of such weights would have made me realize that sooner.
I wish I can panic, have my brain crash down, and blankly walk through the crisis, surviving or dying without crumbling under the torture of the threat, and the uncertain, or rather, almost certain outcome.
Everything I have done to strengthen myself, to not simply be a weak girl seems so hollow now. I force my gaze to not go downward to the dark killing tool with a silencer.
'Mike' let his calm expression melt slightly. He raises his head to the ceiling. I feel a surge of hope. My body coils on itself, my muscles tighten, but then I bite my bottom lip, hard, and restrain myself, my heart suddenly deflated.
Right as I relax, 'Mike' looks at me from the corner of his eyes.
'No reason to punish. Then let's continue for now. The breaking point will come. Or she will keep being smart.'
I let go of my lip and force down the helplessness. 'Mike' looks down to face me again.
"Tyne Turner."
My brain lags slightly, before I react:
"What!?"
"You managed to fool me when I first saw you, but when you played the heroine, you left behind signs that are glaring for anyone who knows what to look for."
My heart starts sinking anew, and my mind seems to swim in a vortex. My head turns, but I focus on 'Mike' to know, to understand.
"You found clues about him too easily while talking with others. You have been too deliberate in some actions, like you foreknew. You guess a complex passcode with no overview of all the information, when you didn't know for certain how many victims he ever had, who they were exactly, and in what order he got to them."
The dizziness turns into a buzzing shaking my brain, but I keep it back with all my strength to remain focused, even as regret, and remorse, work to paint my face pale.
"After that, you hid it well. When I observed you after that, you showed nothing, even at your part-time job. You have a true talent for sales, and you have been very subtle with your actions. If only you had not played the heroine earlier."
Silence. Calm but weighty. 'Mike' remains unhurried, because he is in control, and he knows there is little to no chance for the day to be disturbed, for someone to come and save his victims, us, or maybe soon-to-be dead victims.
My face must have gone wan to show the despair that has settled comfortably over the helplessness in my heart, because 'Mike' suddenly speaks up.
'No need to worry, you won't die.'
No, he doesn't speak. He lets his thoughts float out from behind the restraints that have kept them behind gates. My surprise as I understand that, and also his control over his mind, bleeds through. However, my eyes slowly widen in horror, because if he has such control to keep his thoughts from flying around, why are they being broadcasted now?
I meet his gaze, and I see the thoughtful swirl inside them, and my horror grows. It was intentional.
'No more tests needed. Who would have thought? The scientists have really been wrong. And the Lockdream have created a miracle, an insulator who is not totally insulated. A one-way insulator…'
The awe in those thoughts couldn't have been any clearer, under the veneer of indifference.
"Why?"
Why is he doing that? Why is he letting out the thoughts carrying so much information, if he can keep them locked, or at least discreet?
"To let you know the value of what I have come looking for, and the stakes, so that you can understand how far this can go. That way, you will be able to decide what you are to lose, to sacrifice, to keep me from attaining my goal."
'Your life? Or her life?'
The last part comes as a silent and cold arrow.
I take a deep breath, look at Liz again, as if that action is to give me strength every time I need it, then ask, voice forcibly kept calm, but tremoring:
"What is an insulator?"
'You must have read my mind a few months ago during a moment of carelessness, right?'
I remain silent, as if I didn't read that thought.
'Interesting, isn't it?'
My heart skips a beat, but he continues:
"Mind reading, I mean. It is interesting, and powerful enough. Only a small part of the population is born with that gift, an infinitesimal part. And an even smaller part of the world is born different, wired in a way that keeps their thoughts safe, their minds unassailable, like the saying of only breaking, never bending. Those are the insulators. But like all insulating bodies, the insulation goes both ways. They can't read minds, just as their minds can't be read. And do you know why?"
I shake my head, taken by the explanation that is an illusory blanket of warmth in the chill of the abyss.
'Mike' calmly continues:
"Mind reading, whether you have thought about it or not, is catching brainwaves that are not your own and decrypting them. The strongest minds can do so passively, catching the smallest signal in the air, while the most average has to do it consciously, with focus, with the rest standing somewhere in the middle."
Maybe the abyss is below my heart and elsewhere. I can feel it stop dropping, not since it hit the bottom of my stomach earlier. And I feel like another chilly abyss will soon open under my feet, because hell is coming closer and closer.
My blood slowing, I lose more color on my face as 'Mike' looks at me meaningfully, and drops the hammer:
"And you, a supposed insulator, are also a mind reader. A unique and fine specimen of mind reader. Do you get it now? The reason why I have come for you. And the reason why I am interested in you."