Astor sat rigidly on the couch while his parents entertained guests - a married couple who ran some new startup company. Apparently they were interested in purchasing Astor's abilities for their portal exploration ventures.

"He's still learning control, but the psychic potential is immense," Astor's father boasted. "We believe he's at least a level three Psi user."

The wife, Mrs. Fournier, smiled eagerly. "Wonderful. My husband and I are seeking youths with such promising skills for our inaugural expeditions."

"You flatter me," Mr. Fournier demurred. "We hope simply to aid these gifted youngsters in developing their strengths."

Astor studied them both uneasily. Their benign words felt hollow, at odds with the naked greed in their eyes as they looked at him.

"Of course, we would compensate the boy's family fairly," Mr. Fournier added. "Given the sacrifice of losing a beloved child to this dangerous work."

Astor's mother waved her hand. "Oh, don't worry about us. We're simply happy Astor can make himself useful with these peculiar talents of his."

Useful. As if he were a commodity to be traded. Astor stared at the floor, trying to keep his expression blank. Inside, he trembled at the thought of being sold off to these strangers.

"Well, I think we have an agreement then," his father said, shaking Mr. Fournier's hand firmly. They continued chatting amiably about terms and arrangements.

Astor felt the panic rising in his chest. He wanted to plead for mercy, argue anything to avoid being transferred to the ominous research of this cryptic company.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

But he knew well enough by now that such outbursts would only bring punishment. His fate was sealed. He had no say in the matter.

As the Fourniers departed with satisfied smiles, Astor retreated to his room on trembling legs. He sank onto his bed, hugging himself tightly.

All he could do now was hope that wherever his new owners took him, he might find a chance of escape. Perhaps there were better people out there who could help him understand his powers, not just exploit them endlessly.

Until that hope arose, he would steel himself for the unknowable trials ahead under control of those hungry for profit from his gifts. Even the darkest night had to end in dawn eventually. Astor just prayed his breaking point came first.

----------------------------------------

----------------------------------------

Mitch fidgeted restlessly in the therapy room, barely listening as Dr. Kaplan droned on about "adaptive coping mechanisms" and "cognitive restructuring." He knew the doc meant well, but these sessions hardly scratched the surface of the roiling chaos inside Mitch's head.

"What do you think about what we've discussed, Mitch?" Dr. Kaplan asked gently. "Do you believe you can start applying these techniques?"

Mitch shrugged. "I guess. Doesn't seem like they'll really stop me from losing it when I get angry though."

Dr. Kaplan nodded thoughtfully. "It takes time and practice to change ingrained mental patterns. But progress is very possible if you stay committed."

Mitch exhaled, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "Meanwhile I'm supposed to stay zombified on all those pills you've got me on. I hate feeling so out of it and numb all the time."

"The medications are just to help take the edge off while we work through this," the doctor said. "Once you've developed healthier emotional regulation, we can taper them off."

Mitch's leg bounced anxiously. He didn't mention how he was already skipping doses, unable to tolerate the foggy dissociation.

"There is another option we could consider...temporarily reconnecting you with Astor to utilize his abilities," Dr. Kaplan suggested delicately. "Perhaps just small doses under supervision..."

"No!" Mitch erupted, half rising from his chair before getting himself back under control. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. But that's the problem, getting hooked on him manipulating me."

The doctor nodded. "Of course, you're right. Forgive me for proposing it."

An awkward silence fell. Mitch knew the mental health staff just wanted to help him. But nothing so far had come close to the sheer relief he experienced under Astor's psychic influence. The yearning for that feeling consumed his thoughts.

"Well Mitch, I'm afraid our time is up for today," Dr. Kaplan said, glancing at his watch. "I know this is difficult, but don't lose hope. You're stronger than you realize."

Mitch simply nodded, then shuffled out to endure another mind-numbing afternoon in the locked ward. He felt himself unraveling more each day...becoming the monster he feared. But the drugs muffled his panic, leaving just a bleak haze of craving and self-loathing. For now, he simply endured, waiting desperately for something to cut through the despair and change his trajectory.