The door to the room clicked open again, and another person was led in. I could tell… he?... was struggling, and the people holding his arms couldn’t exactly control him.

He was pushed down in a seat next to me, his unbound wrists being slapped into simple metal handcuffs to hold him down.

“Let me go!â€? he screamed, attempting to rip his wrists off the chair with a sharp rattling noise. “I’m not a freak!â€?

Ouch. So he thought I was a freak? I mean, he was comparing himself to me, wasn’t he?

No, I wasn’t a freak… I was just different.

Okay, so sometimes, I had trouble with some of the little “nicknamesâ€? people called me. Those people were idiots. They didn’t understand what I did; what I could do.

The didn’t get the fact that, if I didn’t know something was there, or didn’t know what that something was, I couldn’t move it.

When they heard the phrase, ‘Moving things with my mind,’ people typically become afraid.

The people on Earth got to have whatever they wanted.