November, 2007
Tired fingertips were all that separated Ronan from the floor. He felt the fatigue creep up his arm while around him an array of items hovered in their orbits – as if suspended by wire. His lamp, books, TV, just to name a few. An hour, daily, Emma’s words as motivation. He’d asked, once, for help to strengthen his telekinesis. She'd gleefully educated that his mind betrayed him – he lacked focus. So, he created distractions to block, he added objects, different shapes, sizes... and never allowed them to drop.
Weakness was blood in the water... and Hellion was a shark.