Free Accused (Ganzfield) by Kate Kaynak

were hearty and filling—the tang of mustard tickled my mouth. But the sensation of drinking a glass of cold milk and eating a freshly-baked brownie sent me over the edge of bliss. I closed my eyes and made little happy noises.
    For Trevor, this was dinner and a show. His joy wrapped green tendrils around us as he watched my reactions. If I’d been eating over the last few weeks, I had no memory of it. This was Food, with a capital F. Real Food. I lay back with my eyes still closed—relaxed and stuporously full. I actually had a little round lump of a belly and I loosened the now-tight cinch of my PJ-pants.
    Better? Trevor asked me.
    Better. I smiled. A loaf of brownies, a jug of milk, and thou.
    He grinned at my mangling of whatever quote that was as he took the unopened boxes of cereal out to the little cabinet we had in the annex. When he returned, he lay down sideways next to me and watched my continuing brownie-high while he played with a loose tendril of my hair.
    I turned my head and opened my eyes to meet Trevor’s. Silvery waves of love splashed and surged between us, and the world dimmed away from us again. Our souls connected more strongly this time—more deeply—building the white energy between us, pulsing it, growing it, until we felt it overwhelm us and consume us.
    We were both trembling when we returned to reality. I felt a tear break loose from my eye and slide down to the end of my nose where my quivering body made it vibrate as it threatened to fall. Instinctively, Trevor knew this wasn’t crying out of sadness or fear, but just out of beauty.
    I love you.
    I love you, too.
    Marry me, Maddie.
    Of course. That was already the plan… someday.
    Now.
    Now? It didn’t matter to me if we were married tomorrow or in ten years, so long as we were together. Why now? Are you pregnant?
    “Ha, ha.” Not funny. “C’mon. I’m eighteen. You’re emancipated. Let’s do it now.”
    But what’s the rush?
    Something seemed to rip inside Trevor, shattering our contented glow with a surging river of anguish. “I—I couldn’t get to you!” He quivered with remembered pain and frustration. “I had no legal standing when I tried to get in to see you. No claim. No official connection. You were gone and no one would tell me ANYTHING!” One of the empty plates flew across the room and shattered against the wall.
    My jaw dropped. I’d never seen him lose control like that. I pulled him tightly to me, knowing the soul-deep pain I’d felt when I thought I might lose him. His shoulders heaved with sobs that he refused to let out. Looking around the room, I noticed that two of the metalwork covers protecting the lights hung unevenly from their struts and several dents marred the walls.
    Finally, his breathing eased. He pulled back and ran his hands across his face. I grabbed one of them and pulled it to my lips. It’s okay. Everything’s all right now. I glanced at the shattered plate and a mirthless snort escaped me. Someday, somebody’s going to get hurt trying to come between us.
    Pink stains crept across Trevor’s face and mind. It’s—it’s like the reasonable part of my mind just… shuts off when you’re in trouble. When someone tries to hurt you… I just… I just can’t deal with it.
    It’s amazing any of the buildings at Ganzfield are still standing, then, after the year we’ve had. “Don’t make Trevor angry. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”
    He met my eyes with a reluctant smile, but the raw need of his insecurity left a hollow, shaking knot in him. He didn’t just want to marry me—he needed to tie us together in as many ways as possible.
    Our thoughts intertwined as this understanding flashed between us. Trevor dropped his eyes and the phrase “desperate loser” slapped around his thoughts. I cupped his chin to bring his gaze back to mine. I wanted him to feel secure. Loved. Cherished.
    Mine.
    If this was the way to do it, count me in. Any ideas about how I can handle