The Brob Girl Ch 29: Things To Be Told, Things Hidden

(Abbie)

I glanced over at the small napkin on the table, my eyes straining to make out the tiny speck that was Michael. Even with my contacts in, seeing him so small, so fragile, made my heart ache.

"He's having another nightmare," I said softly, a wave of sadness washing over me. Through my earpiece, which I had forgotten to turn off, I could hear his faint groans. Michael had left his own earpiece in, probably by accident. His sounds of distress made it hard to just sit here, knowing he was still haunted by whatever he had been through.

I wondered for the hundredth time what exactly had happened to him. Michael had been through hell. And the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't help but ask myself—what would have happened to me if I hadn't won the Brob Lottery? Would I have been forced to endure the same horrors Michael had gone through? The thought made me feel sick.

I couldn't stand to see him like this anymore. "We have to get him home," I said, turning to Monica, my voice firm but laced with worry. I didn't know if getting him back to his world would fix everything, but it felt like the least we could do.

Monica nodded, her expression serious. She knew how much this meant to me. But her face still carried that cautious look I had seen many times before when things weren't as simple as they seemed.

"It's not that easy, Abbie," she said, sighing. "It's become harder for Brobs to legally enter Lilliputian lands. The government has ramped up their defenses." She shifted in her seat, clearly frustrated by the red tape involved. "It takes a lot of power to open the rifts, and the Lilliputians have developed countermeasures. They're not perfect, but they've made it difficult for us to just come and go as we used to. Incidents involving Brobs have gone down because of it."

I chewed my lip, feeling that gnawing sense of helplessness. Monica had already filed a report for Michael's situation—the Lilliputian Retrieval and Safety Case, they called it. It sounded so clinical, so cold, for something so personal. But at least we'd done what we could. Now, it was just a waiting game, waiting for the call from the Brobdingnagian Office of Interdimensional Affairs. They were the ones who dealt with kidnapped Lilliputians like Michael. It was all just... so frustrating.

"We reported his case," Monica reminded me. "Now all we can do is wait for the office to respond."

I nodded, but I wasn't satisfied. Michael deserved to go home, to heal. I just wished we didn't have to rely on a bureaucratic system to make that happen.

My eyes drifted back to the napkin, to that tiny speck that was Michael, lying so still. I wanted to reach out, to hold him, to protect him from everything that had hurt him before. But all I could do was wait, and it made me feel powerless.

I heard Michael yell out, jolting me from my thoughts. He shot up from the napkin, breathing hard, panic etched into every movement. My heart sank. He looked so small, so scared, and I wanted nothing more than to help him, to make him feel safe.

Slowly, I moved closer to the table, careful not to make any sudden movements. My body leaned over him, but I made sure to keep some distance—I didn't want to overwhelm him. The last thing he needed was to feel more trapped than he already did.

"Michael..." I said softly, trying to keep my voice calm and soothing. "It's okay. You're safe. You're with us now."

His breathing was still erratic, his eyes wide with fear. I wished I knew how to take that fear away. I felt this tug inside me, wondering if now was the time to tell him about my own past, the things I'd been through when I was a Lilliputian. Maybe if I opened up, it would help him feel less alone, less like he had to carry all of this on his own.

But I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, or if he was. Still, the thought lingered as I watched him struggle to calm down.

Monica stood up from the couch, glancing at me. "I'm heading out," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll be in touch with news about Michael." She gave me a reassuring nod before grabbing her bag and heading for the door.

I nodded back, grateful for her help but feeling a little lost as she left. Now, it was just me and Michael. Alone in the quiet, except for the faint sound of the TV in the background.

I kept my eyes on him, wishing I could do more. "Take your time, Michael," I whispered, still leaning over the table but keeping my face a little ways back. "You're not alone."

***

(Michael)

I tried to ignore Abbie's words, her voice soft but distant, like it was coming from somewhere far away. My heart was still racing, and my mind was swimming with the remnants of that nightmare. But there was something else now—something strange.

My right eye—it was heating up, as if there was a small heater lodged behind it, pressing against the socket. I blinked, rubbing at it with my hand, but the warmth only grew stronger. Panic stirred in my chest again. What was this?

I opened my eye wider, hoping it would stop, but then everything changed. Through my right eye, the world around me started to shift, the ordinary details of the table and the napkin warping into something else. Schematics—blueprints—appeared in front of me, wherever I looked. Complex designs, circuits, materials... they all lit up as though they were floating right in front of me.

"What... what is this?" I muttered, my voice barely more than a whisper. I turned my head, scanning the space around me, and everywhere I looked, there were plans. Devices, machines, all kinds of inventions just waiting to be built. They were intricate, detailed down to the last nut and bolt, and yet... I understood them. Every part of them made sense to me, like I had studied them for years.

"Amazing..." I breathed, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with confusion. How was I seeing this? Why now? My heart still pounded in my chest, but for a different reason now. I felt like I was standing at the edge of something huge, something I didn't quite understand but that I couldn't ignore.

The heat behind my eye pulsed again, and more schematics unfolded before me, new designs and ideas spilling into my vision. I could see how things around me could be used—the wood from the table, the fibers in the napkin, even the metal of the spoon lying nearby. All of it could be transformed, built into something greater.

I blinked again, trying to focus, but it only grew clearer. "What the hell is happening?" I whispered, unable to pull myself away from the stream of information flooding my mind.