“I would trade all those things to just go back to my old life,” I replied, “Also, I’m not saying I don’t care about anyone here. I don’t dislike Caleb. “
“You don’t dislike Caleb?” Law repeated, laughing, “That’s the best you can give me?”
“So far.”
“Okay, well, that’s a good place to start, because it is important for this gift to manifest that you embrace that compassion. I’m sure Caleb would be more than happy to volunteer. Caleb!” Law shouted up the stairs. Moments later, Caleb came bouncing down the steps. “Caleb, how do you feel about giving Danielle a hand with her training?”
A nervousness rushed through me that he might decline, considering our last encounter. He was the only person I had any connection with here and I did not want to be alone.
“Oh, of course,” Caleb said and sat himself down next to me on my mat without hesitation, “What are we doing?”
“Well, it appears that of all the people in the house Danielle finds you the most tolerable,” Law said.
“Oh,” Caleb said with a small laugh, “I’m honored.”
“Okay, give me your arm,” Law said with his hand out. Caleb obliged. Law reached to his left side and produced a knife. He flipped it open as he drew it close to Caleb. Caleb didn’t flinch. Grabbing Caleb’s wrist, he turned his arm over so the inside of his wrist was facing downward. He drug the knife slowly, and gently over Caleb’s arm. producing a two inch long, barely skin deep cut. Blood did not even drip from it. “We’ll start slow. Danielle, do you feel anything?”
“Do I feel anything?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“No am I supposed to?”
“Search your emotions. Think about how you feel for Caleb, try to establish an emotional connection with him in your mind. How you wouldn’t like anything bad to happen to him. Let that thought and emotion fill you.”
I tried to focus on what Law was saying but the words were not registering to the effect they were intended to have.
“Okay,” I said, focusing on Caleb’s arm intently as if telekinesis might heal him.
“Okay, try using your hands, touch him if need be, to transfer that emotion. Use it to extract his pain,” Law continued.
I placed a hand over Caleb’s arm, inches away. I felt nothing. I focused harder on the cut. I put my hand on his shoulder. Still nothing.
Law waved his hand over Caleb’s arm, and the wound was immediately gone. Just like that. He did not seem to exhaust any resource or effort to do so. He then grabbed Caleb’s other arm and cut him in the same area, slightly deeper this time.
“Again,” Law said.
I attempted to use all my brain power to make something happen. I focused, I imagined it healing, I think I made a million blood vessels in my brain explode with all the thinking and concentrating I was attempting.
“It’s not working,” I said, sitting back.
“Keep trying,” Law replied.
We practiced for hours. He gave a thousand suggestions, attempted to enlighten and educate me. As time went on with no progress, I became frustrated. We stopped after three hours. Law seemed almost as frustrated as me. Caleb remained encouraging and in good spirits about wasting three hours of his life getting sliced, poked, and prodded with Law’s knife. Every time I could not perform, Law healed Caleb with the wave of a hand or blink of an eye. He made it look so easy. These sessions went on every night for two weeks. Nothing changed.
Every weekday I woke up at five thirty. I showered, and then joined the tail-end of breakfast with the remainder of the group, even though they avoided me. They were civilized and polite, but seemed to avoid me out of fear. I would do my chores around the house, which consisted of cleaning the dishes after breakfast and cleaning the outside windows. Why the windows needed to be cleaned every day, I had no idea. After my chores, when it was approaching 7:30, we would pile into the fifteen-passenger van to be dropped off at our work destinations. I would work till 5:00, go back to the house, then we would all eat dinner together. After dinner, it was my job to take out the trash. We would then have an hour of ‘our time’ to do what we pleased, then we would work on our training. Some people worked with each other in discussion groups, some read books, some meditated, some did research, some practiced on each other and had developed games to hone their gifts. Caleb either spent his time in the garage gym, reading his Bible, or helping me.
“Do you think there’s a chance that maybe what Franklin did to me, maybe, doesn’t just contain my shadow, but also keeps me from being able to access my other gifts?” I asked, halfway through another long session.
“That’s not it,” Law said, “That’s not how it works. There has to be an energy transfer, a sacrifice if you will . . .”
“Like murder someone?” I said jokingly. Law cast a grave look at me, clearly not finding the humor. “Well, maybe I just don’t have the ability anymore? Maybe I grew out of it,” I suggested, throwing a hand up.
“I don’t think that’s true. I think we need to try a different approach,” Law said, ending our session early.
The following morning, I lay awake in bed, contemplating my presence in the house. I felt more like I was wasting my time, and everyone else’s, with each passing day. The thing I feared the most was starting to creep into my mind- the thought of being nothing more than a source of
