When I look at the white clouds outside, the past and the present… They seem to come together. It is like there is not much difference in the end. But…
I lose myself in the fluffy white and the ground far below, thinking about my… gift.
I'm certain I woke up from my coma with it. I did not have it before that. And am I the only one to have it? That is where my uncertainty is coming from. And it is growing into dread faintly at the very back.
This world is different after all. But is it man-made, or is it how it has always been, a natural evolution that is different from the normal past life that I remember?
'An insulator. Confirmed.'
Those words are like a sword above my head, or even on my neck, breathing its coldness onto my skin.
An insulator.
That single word said as a confirmation now brings me more fear than I expected. My hands feel cold, but the tremor that ran through them makes me snap out of the hypnosis of the fluffy clouds. I turn my phone's screen up and search for the word.
I recognize it, but my trembling brain demands a clearer understanding of it. I try to not make my cold sweat noticeable to Liz.
I find the word, and I clutch my phone more tightly.
An insulator is something non-conductive, something that does not transmit heat, sound, or electricity.
In short, an insulator isolates and keeps locked. And what can I be locking that makes that man from the border police…
No, is he even really with the police?
And what can I be keeping isolated to make him call me an insulator? I am not cold and devoid of eternal temperature, so not heat. He did not even use a thermometer at that time. Not sound either.
I have been to the hospital more than once. I have had the sounds inside me listened to by doctors with stethoscopes. So what? Electricity? I want to scoff, not for any other reason than my own escapism.
I already have the answer for the wave I am an insulator for, and I just don't dare to face the implications, that is all. Because that would mean not only have that man who, now that I think about it never gave me his name, has a gift of mind-reading like me. And he came to our home just to check me, to confirm if I'm indeed an insulator.
And that means, for everything that happened…
My heart hurts. It is clenching and making me feel suffocated. I can feel the blood leaving my face.
"Max, are you alright?"
"Huh?"
I snap my head toward Liz. I blink at her concerned appearance, and I nod.
"Hm. I'm fine sis."
"But, you…"
She points at my face, and I discover that I am actually crying. I wipe my tears, but they keep falling down. Liz sighs and smiles with sadness. She helps me wipe my tears before she pulls me to lean onto her shoulder, holding my hand to share her warmth with me.
I don't resist, because I need some support. As I look outside through the window, I ask myself something I asked Liz before. I wonder if the accidents that changed our lives… if they were indeed bad luck.
Just that question exhausts me. My eyelids suddenly feel like coming down for a bit, and I have no energy to resist.
I blink, each time slower than before, and before I know it, the plane shakes.
I wake up to my security belt secure around me. I look outside, but I don't think we have arrived. The airport outside does not have the style of a seaside city like I have seen online.
"We are making a stop. We will leave again soon."
Liz's soft voice makes me turn to find her leaning toward me, and she smiles.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Hm."
My answer comes slowly, but that is enough for her smile to grow deeper, more affectionate.
"Then let's go. We can buy some snacks before leaving again."
"Alright."
Liz helps me up. I think she attributes my earlier tears to our parents and our grandparents whose ashes we are traveling with, and she is not wrong, not totally.
"Sit down, and wait for me."
I nod at her, and she lets me in the waiting area. I ignore the gazes that fall on me. I'm a woman, well, a girl, and I'm beautiful. So long as I don't meet any pervert, my mind cannot think about paying any mind to the passers-by.
I have rested, but I'm still lacking energy because I don't know who the man who came to our home about a week ago is. I don't know if he really is a mind-reader or not, if he is naturally gifted or if he acquired the gift, or even if it is a device he used to confirm what he came to our place for.
Will he come again? Will he hound me now, hound Liz? Will our interactions always be without direct contact, or will there be an escalation, will there be violence?
Are we in danger? Is that what caused the two accidents? Were they truly accidents? Does Liz know something?
"An insulator. Confirmed."
The word crawls back to my mind, and I feel its importance now that I have an idea of how I heard it.
There has been no surprise in the tone. So, are there many like me? Is it normal to be like me or is it abnormal? And if there are others like me, how many others can read people's minds? How many supernatural, pseudo-scientific, things or beings exist in this world?
But I still have to come back to the man who turned my world upside down. Is he alone, or does he have a group of interest behind him? And more importantly, what could be the interest?
This world, I suddenly don't know how to live through it.