The fabric over my eyes is heavy and damp, like sweaty palms pressed into the delicate folds of my eyelids.

I’ve tried, many times now, to squint and see through the minuscule stitches in the fabric, but its no use. The fabric is tightly woven and impenetrable to light.

I feel the prongs of a fork brushing my lips, the salty brine of something ocean fresh catching in my nose.

“I don’t like seafood”, I murmur, the familiar stench already making my stomach flip flop.

Someone scoffs above me before replying.

“Yer will eat what the doctor gives you. No bein fussy”

His accent is thick and accented, a guttural Irish dialect that spits the words rather than speaks them.

Judging by his crass manner and the less than delicate way the fork is pushing against my lips, I’ll take it he isn’t the doctor in question.

“I don’t care wha-“

But the fork slips through my lips and into my mouth, the slimy slickness pushing past my teeth and into the cavity itself.

I want to spit it out, want to gag and rinse my mouth out with something strong, but the man has slammed his calloused hand against my mouth preventing me from doing anything other than swallowing.

For the millionth time today I regret the choices that led me here. No matter how desperately I wanted my crooked teeth capped with straight white veneers, I finally saw why people warned you against discount doctors found in market places on tropical islands. This was most definitely not what I imagined when I sat in the dental chair. When the plush leather chair had touched my back I had been too excited about the prospect of a discounted dental procedure to even account for the lack of medical equipment.

Perhaps the blindfolds should have tipped me off that something was odd about this place.

Once he is satisfied that I have swallowed the vile specimen placed in my mouth, the hand releases me and I flex my jaw wishing my hands weren’t strapped to the chair so that I could massage the tender muscle.

Oh, that was the other thing. For some seemingly odd reason even after they strapped my wrists to the armrests, I stayed long enough for the blindfold to follow.

“Time to guess what that was”, the man says, a giddy chuckle colouring his words.

I frown and smack my lips together, trying to conjure the memory of the taste.

“Hmmm, I would say it’s either oyster or some other clam, but I’m not-“

For the second time today the man cuts me off with a scoff.

“Urg, not yer. You just shut up now. It’s time for the doc to guess”

At this rude response I bristle, wanting to cuss the man out. But I repeat his response again in my head, trying to analyze its meaning.

“The doctor? Then why did you feed it to me?”

I feel the man’s weight shift, as though he is leaning back in his chair or walking away from me .

“I don’t have to explain anything to yer”, he says hotly. I hear him rustling with something nearby, but I am too heated by his response to think too carefully about what it may be.

“Fine”, I bark, “don’t tell me”.

It is quiet for a bit, only the sounds of beeping machines and his fidgeting filling the space.

Finally, he sighs, and I get the impression that I have beat him at whatever game of silence we were playing.

“The doctor is a mind reader”, he says reluctantly, as though I have forced the answer out of him.

I can't help but let out a laugh at his words.

A mind reader? Come on now, that is just silly.

“So you held me hostage here to feed me things and see if he can guess what I’m eating? All to prove he’s a mind reader?”, I ask, the laugher still inflecting my words.

The man sighs irritably and I can hear him take two large strides towards me again.

“Yes. He is in the room beside this one”

“And how many people has this mind reading ability worked on?”

I feel him hesitate, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Well.... I am the only other mind we can prove he’s read, hence why we need more subjects”

I perk up at this statement, torn between disbelieve and awe at the stupidity of the entire situation.

“Wait a minute, so he’s never read any other minds before?” I ask incredulously.

“No. we haven’t had any volunteers until now”

I roll my eyes, but I know he can’t see me.

“I didn’t exactly volunteer”

The strain in his voice as he replies gives me the impression that he too is rolling his eyes as he speaks.

“Most people have the right minds to make a fuss when we strap them to the chair. This is actually the furthest we’ve ever come with the trials”, he pauses for half a beat then adds, “welcome, test subject number one”.