Flashback ( PDFDrive )

“I’m not reading your mind. Why do you think I haven’t asked your
permission to enter your consciousness?”
“I guess that’s a good question,” Keefe told him. “But a better one
might be: Then why are you touching my face?”
“To make the process feel more tangible for you. Can you see the
box?”
“Yeah. It’s a big square box. And it’s—”
“Don’t tell me the color!” Tiergan reminded him. “We’ll use that to
determine if the masking worked. But before we do that, I need you to
imagine yourself dragging all the memories you’d rather keep hidden
into that mental box—and really make yourself believe those moments
are truly solid pieces you’re picking up and putting into that
designated space.”
Keefe’s eyebrows crunched together. “Not gonna lie. This feels
super pointless.”
“It’s hard to understand the workings of an ability that’s not your
own,” Tiergan told him.
“Uh, I can feel Foster’s confusion wafting my way, so I’m not the
only one.”
“Well, you’ll all see soon enough. Trust the process—and let me
know when you’re ready.”
His eyebrows pressed even closer together. “Okay. I guess the
imaginary pieces of memory are all in the imaginary box now, and it
totally feels like I actually did a thing and not just stood here feeling
ridiculous.”
Tiergan smiled. “Excellent. Now picture yourself sealing that box as
tight as you can.”
Keefe nodded. “Now what?”