Thursday
There was a dark place inside her mind into which she sank as the hours passed.
For almost half her life, her head had been filled with others’ thoughts, so much so that she sometimes wondered if she possessed a single original thought of her own, if her views were hers, if her feelings were her own. Her defence mechanism was to be reactive, to trust her first instinct, rather than try to over analyse things – because if she overthought it, could she trust that the thoughts were her own?
Perhaps, she thought, if her grandmother had lived until Aislen was fully trained in her gift, her life would have worked out differently. Maybe she would have learnt to block others out with more control earlier. Perhaps she would have found a purpose for her gift. Perhaps she would have not
