Right. I did tier 2—was there for eight weeks. A lot of individual talk therapy, group therapy, training my ability, medical check-ins, etc. It kind of felt like what I imagine army boot camp would be like, just without the toxic masculinity and trumped-up patriotism.

franklinsteinsmonster

Like the beginning bit of Mulan where they’re all training.

thatsahumanperson

Ha, yeah, exactly. Except you’re surrounded by a bunch of people who can do things like make fire and move objects with their mind.

franklinsteinsmonster

That Place (which still no one will tell me the actual name of!!!!!) sounds like the coolest.

JANUARY 3RD, 2017

Looks like I won’t be doing any group. Talk therapy is still really important, I guess, because I’ve got, like, four therapy sessions every single day, but they won’t be putting me with any other Atypicals. At all. Owen explained it to me when I got here yesterday, sitting me down in the same room we’d met in the first time—that windowless, spa-like room, with soft lighting and squishy pillows. It made me feel a little less freaked out about being back to be sitting in a familiar room, looking at a familiar face. That feeling didn’t really last once he started talking though.

“So, Rose,” he started, his voice gentle, “tell me what’s going on.”

“Um…” I swallowed. “Didn’t Dr. Bright fill you in? I thought I was supposed to do everything through her now, so we had a session last week—”

“Yes, yes, she did,” he said. “And her notes, as always, were extremely thorough.” He smiled a bit at that, like he admired good note-taking.

“But I want to hear it from you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes warm and inviting behind his wire-frame glasses.

“Oh, well, um,” I fumbled, not sure where to begin. I decided it was best to just … rip off the Band-Aid. “I’ve been sleeping … a lot.”

“Define ‘a lot,’” he said.

“Like … most days?” His mouth twisted, in disappointment or sadness, I couldn’t tell. “I haven’t been—I mean, it hasn’t been random. Not really.”

“You mean, you haven’t been falling asleep without meaning to?” he asked and that’s when I noticed that he didn’t have any kind of notebook open, no pen taking notes on my file. It’s like he was asking because he cared.

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I’ve been choosing it.”

“And you’ve been dreamdiving?” he asked.