Second Degree

‘Do it again,' they commanded.
'Are you sure?' I asked. My head swam.
'Yes, yes. We're sure.'
Giving it no further thought, I reached out towards the strange power again, reaching through the woman tied to the chair. She threw her head back and screamed in agony, even as my knees went weak with the wondrous feeling that flooded into me again. It was a feeling not dissimilar to the one you get when the answer to a long-pondered problem just pops into your head. It felt like the answers to all the unanswered questions I had ever had were blossoming in my mind all at once. They were not, but the sensation was the same. The feeling of dawning realisation was ecstasy. There was a tinge of frustration however, like I was on the cusp of understanding something truly great, but when my mind tried to make sense of the feeling it fell apart and unravelled into nothing.
I looked at the woman writhing and throwing herself against her bonds. Somewhere deep within me, a feeling that this was wrong tried to surface, but before it could take hold the voices spoke again.
'She could spare herself from this if she would only come to us willingly.'
I spoke then. Not aloud, but to the voices. 'Why does she not submit willingly?'
'There are some who believe their ability is like some evil incarnate within them,' the voices shook their heads sadly as the woman rattled the chair around. 'But you are not so ignorant.'
'It is rare, what I can do?'
'Not exactly, but you will be better at it than most.’
'And the others, do they hear you too?'
This time the head shaking was emphatic. 'The talent of most does not stretch to this.’
Tentatively, I tried to draw more of the power and mould it into something tangible that I could use. The voices spoke again at this. ‘Have a care, you have not yet learned how to control it.’ I ignored them, drawing more. The power was highly addictive. The woman’s thrashing grew more intense, and the volume of her screams went up several notches, although it had not seemed possible. A few thoughts began to swim up lazily. ‘Who is she? How am I doing this? Why am I doing this?’ Each thought was a difficult thing to grasp. I tried to hold on to the thoughts, but it felt like trying to remember the feelings from a pleasant dream and hold onto them beyond waking.
I remembered the power, and drew more of it hungrily. As it grew within me, I could feel it surging through my blood, building under my skin, ready to unleash.
‘Stop it!’, the voices hissed. ‘The link is poor, much too weak. We are too weak. Enough!’
The woman had stopped straining now, instead just letting out a continuous moan. She was beginning to lose consciousness.
‘Stop it!’
Without warning, the power vanished. I felt as though something inside me had just shattered. I tried reaching for the power again, but I could not summon it. The voices had left me and they had taken the power with them, leaving a hollow pit in my stomach as if something physical had been wrenched away at their parting. My head felt clear, however, and I was suddenly more aware of my surroundings. I was in some kind of farmhouse. The room was relatively empty, but for the chair on which a young woman was slumped. Ropes bound her tightly to the framework of the wooden chair. I stood frozen, staring at the woman who had been screaming and thrashing just a few moments ago. Why hadn’t that bothered me? She was so still and silent now. She appeared to be unconscious, and I shuffled closer to examine her. There was no rise or fall to her chest. My own breath caught. I felt for a pulse and my skin started to prickle as an uncomfortable heat kindled in my flesh. She was not unconscious, she was dead.
It felt like being hit in the face by a fist with the weight of a horse behind it. I staggered under the crushing blow and held to the arm of the chair for support. My arms gave way and I landed sitting on the floor. I had done this. A person, a living and breathing person, was now dead because of me. ‘Not because of me! Because of the voices!’ I told myself. Another voice in my mind, one of my own this time, argued ‘It was by your hand that she died, even if you did not give order.’ Another voice chimed in ‘They told you to stop it. You could have stopped, but you wanted to draw more...’
I had to get out of the building and away. Shakily, I hauled myself to my feet. Vomit rose from my stomach unbidden to splatter on the floor. I half walked, half fell across the room and scrambled at the door handle, flinging it open to collapse onto the grass. Picking myself up again, I shot one backward glance at the farmhouse before tearing down the hillside towards the sanctity of the city.