Once Brandt learned control of her power it made those times when it overwhelmed her all the more excruciating. When she couldn’t focus. When she couldn’t whittle the strings of sentience down to only the threads she wanted to see. They morphed quickly from spider strands into spider plants, each end giving life to a spring of new leaves which repeated the process over and over in agonizing succession. There was no way to stop it without help at that point.
She dug her hands into the thick curls of her hair, screaming as if her mind was being cut open by a broken mirror, reflecting each searing thought. Iain and Garrett grabbed her beneath both arms, locked as if in rigor and got her back to the center as fast as they could. The doctor would kill them if she was harmed.
The medical staff knew the routine as well as her bodyguards, and she was stripped and sprayed clean with purified water. All the handling made it worse, as the breathing tube was forced down her throat and the mask secured.
Brandt thrashed and fought, the pain in her skull, her mind, her very soul threatened to tear her apart on a molecular level. She was pushed into the containment unit, and the viscous fluid pumped in around her. She always fought it, her body and mind not in unison and fighting against one another. It enveloped her, suspending her as if she was a beautiful betta fish, her hair spread like fins.
Slowly, the struggling stopped as the temperature rose to that perfect degree leaving her unable to feel where the liquid ended and she began. The threads of memory faded. Her mind cleared. Everything went quiet.
©b.r. hill-mann 2019