"I know you're watching me," Thanh said. At check-in, the staff told him that the mirror in his room was two-way. This allowed the doctors to watch his progress through the treatment without the discomfort of seeing faceless doctors, nurses, and students staring at him.

The treatment was free as long as he agreed to this condition and thought he could. If he didn't see them, then why would it matter?

Once in his room, however, he learned that there was a catch. He would not see anybody during the treatment. Food was delivered through a box on the opposite wall of the mirror, and all test instructions were given through a speaker in the left corner above that box. Thanh had not seen another human being in a week.

Thanh needed to see another human being soon. He felt alone. Disconnected. The treatment was not worth this isolation.

The tests were simplistic. Thanh needed to use his telekinesis to move and manipulate objects. They started with easy tasks like juggling and continued to get harder each day. The objects in the food box got heavier, and he was asked to concentrate on more than one object at a time. Thanh felt the mental exertion of these exercises, which were part of the treatment to master his mental abilities. That and the small amounts of drugs in his food were designed to dampen his impressive power.

Thanh discovered that he could read minds but became scared when he learned that he could also control their minds. It was often an involuntary action on his part. People just did what he wanted them to do, so he sought treatment. The government found this lab willing to help him, and they laid out a strategy of mental exercises and medicine.

Thanh didn't realize how comfortable he was with the background noise of all the voices in his head -- until it was gone. With each passing day, the silence in his mind felt more and more like some part of him was being stolen. Thanh needed to get out. He needed the calming presence of those voices again.

They wouldn't let him out. They didn't even acknowledge his requests for release, even when they shouted at the soulless speaker. Instead, he continued to get food and tasks.

Thanh was no fool. He stopped eating the food and waited for the drugs to wear off. In the meantime, he worked on his telekinesis. If it was a muscle, he was going to make it stronger.

When he could no longer take the hunger, Thanh stared at the two-way mirror and finally lashed out. He smashed the mirror with his telekinesis. He never tried to use it as a destructive wave, but it worked. The mirror shattered.

He was excited to finally see people, but it was not a two-way mirror—it was a concrete wall.

"We can't let you out, Thanh," the speaker said. "We don't know how to treat your addiction yet."

Thanh fell to his knees, sobbing. Nobody told him that his mental abilities came with a caveat. He needed to be around people. He needed to hear their thoughts. He needed to mold their minds. He needed anything to keep from being alone.