#tmatw

My name is Cerys Day, and I have just been kidnapped. How do I know this, you may ask? Well, for starters, I just woke up in an unfamiliar room that looks nothing like my apartment building, sitting in a chair to which my hands and feet are expertly tied. I’m starting to have a hard time believing that I am going to get out of here alive.

I fight hard against the restraints, refusing to give up. “It’s no use.” I hear, and I stop resisting, looking around the room in shock. My eyes land on a girl, but it couldn’t have been her. She can’t speak! I don’t think anyone could when their mouth is sewn shut. “I already tried.” The voice says again. I stare at her, trying to determine where the voice was coming from. She must have been here for a while, I think, studying her. She is covered in blood, her clothes are torn, and her mouth is crudely sewn shut, surrounded by messy scars. It looked painful, and I found myself feeling bad for the girl.

“H-how do you know my name? And how are you talking to me?” I asked, unsure how this whole 'telepath’ thing worked. From across the room, her mouth formed what could only be described as an attempt at a smile, and she did the best she could, although obviously in pain.

“Yes, Cerys, I have been here for a while. My name is Fawke, and I am talking to you because I am what you call a telepath.” The voice, Fawke, says again. A mutant? My whole life I had believed that I was the only one. Surely there couldn't be anyone else in the world who could control fire.

“You see, the beauty of my mutation is that I can read and communicate with minds such as yours. For example, I know that you are scared and confused, as you should be. These people are not the nicest to our kind.” She said although that doesn’t seem like the right word.  

“‘Our kind?’ I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.” I said, playing dumb. I don’t particularly trust this girl, and I wasn’t just going to let her know that I’m a mutant.

“Mutants, I mean. Don’t worry, I didn’t read your mind to know that. You’ve been trying to burn the ropes since you woke up.” She answered, nodding towards my bruised and bloody wrists, raw from struggling. But the ropes didn’t burn. Our captors were obviously smart and made sure that I couldn’t escape.

Deciding that it was useless to resist anymore, I then tried to get to know Fawke a little better, seeing as it was almost impossible to escape by myself. As they always say, two is better than one, right?