Mind Destroyer

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Mind Destroyer

Exordium

I stare out the window, eyes wide open, and ask my mother for the thousandth time, "Where are we going?" Again, she does not answer. She stares straight ahead at the road before us in deep concentration. My mother and I are very similar in appearance; we both have thin, brown hair, the same chestnut coloured eyes, and freckles sprinkled lightly over our cheeks. She always wore a warm, reassuring smile and taught me to do the same. But today, our smiles are not present. But today that smile is not present. My mother is acting strange this morning. At three-thirty she woke me up, hustled me out of bed, and handed me a pop-tart as she yanked me out the door by my wrist. She did not give any explanation or reason for dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night, nor did she give any sign that she found this unusual. Her frantic actions are beginning to worry me. There is no doubt that we have left the city now. The towering skyscrapers and long rows of cars caught in traffic faded into the distance long ago. Other than a few passing cars and roadside gas stations, we are the only signs of life in this empty desert plain. Hours pass. I try to fall asleep, but I cannot suppress the fear gnawing in my stomach like desperate, insistent hunger. So I decide to keep my eyes closed until morning, hoping that when I open them I will be back home, in bed. Finally, the sun peeks up from under the horizon and raises high into the sky. Even though it is only morning, it is already incredibly hot. I can see waves of heat rippling over the road ahead of us. Mom does not have the air conditioner turned on. By now, I can hear my stomach growling, my throat is parched, my legs are stiff, and I need to use the bathroom so badly I don't know how much longer I can wait.

"I have to go to the bathroom. Bad," I complain. "You can go when we get there!" Mom snaps. I am surprised by her harsh tone, but more by the fact that she has spoken at all. "When we get where?" I prod. Silence. I growl loudly and shift uncomfortably in my seat. This is going to be a long day, wherever we are going. Finally, I fall into a light and restless sleep from a combination of both physical and mental exhaustion. I have been racking my brain to find answers for hours. When I open my eyes again, the sun is behind us, sinking downward below the horizon. In the distance I can barely make out the silhouette of a large, rectangular structure. A building; finally, a sign of civilization. "Is this where we're going, mom?" I ask. She sighs loudly but doesn't answer. My excitement quickly changes to fear as I glance back at the building. I can see two of them, now. The first is very small and made of red bricks. Behind it is an enormous stone wall. Coils of barbed wire line the top edges. I shake my head, my mind swimming with millions of questions. Is mom taking me to military school? Why? What have I done? Mom pulls up to the front building and climbs out of the car, slamming the door behind her. She waits for me to get out before walking to the front door. It certainly does not seem like a dangerous place. The room we enter is a lobby of sorts. A woman sits at a desk on the other side of the room, scribbling something onto a notepad. My mother approaches the counter and puts her hands on her hips. The woman looks up. "Ah, yes, Sophia. Dr. Derro is waiting for you in the other room, there," she says, pointing to a wooden door to our right. Mom, without saying so much as a quick thank you, quickly heads for the door. Doctor? I wonder as we walk. My heart beats faster with every step I take. I know, somehow, that danger lurks behind the door. But I can't understand why. The door swings shut behind us. My stomach twists. A young man with dark, shaggy hair and glasses is sitting in one of four chairs surrounding a glass coffee table. He smiles when he sees us. "Lacey!" he exclaims, as if we are old friends. Mom nudges me toward the doctor and I stand by his side, too nervous to think about what I'm doing. The doctor nods to Mom and she takes a few steps backward. "Mom, where are you going?" I ask. She bites her lip and shakes her head, as if the very sight of my face is

causing her agonizing pain. I can see tears streaming down her cheeks as she turns and leaves the room quickly, making loud noises that sounded more like choking than sobbing. I have never seen my mother cry like this. I try to run after her, but large, rough hands grab my shoulders and hold me in place. "Mom, where are you going? Don't go home without me!” I call after her. Panicked, I struggle to break free. "Believe me, Lacey,” says the man gripping my shoulders. "This is for your own good." The memory of my last day with my mother slowly faded into the past. The days after my arrival passed by quickly and I slowly began to lose bits and pieces of it. As the days went by, I forgot more and more about myself, my mother, and where I came from. Six years, six long years, have gone by. All of my memories gradually become more like dreams than actual events. I can no longer remember where I used to live or my mother's name. I don't even remember what she looks like. All I know for certain is that I was taken away for a reason. I know that I hate this prison. Yet it is hard for me to understand why. I am treated only with respect and kindness. The only thing anyone here has ever denied me is the answer to the question, "Where am I?" And for the first few years, I fell for their little trick. I was living in a state of pure, ignorant bliss. But questions arise in my mind every day now, and I cannot brush them off like I used to. I can tell there is something these people don't want me to know; an important secret. I want to know why I can't remember. Until I find out, I can only wait in silence. Wait, and hope that I will find the answers to all my questions. Who am I?

Memoria

It is suffocating. The darkness. It is everywhere. Like thick, black ink, it bleeds into my skin, into my throat, into my heart, into my brain, through my eyes. Everywhere. I cannot see. I cannot breathe. I am alone somewhere, drowning. I am afraid. And as slowly as the ink seeped into my body, a blue light flickers to life from nowhere and burns the blackness away, bathing everything in a deep glow. I am no longer floating but held in a stiff position on a bed. There is a glass wall before me; behind it are a row of cabinets and a door. I close my stinging, watering eyes. The blue is so intense that it hurts. It is worse than the darkness. It cuts deep into my flesh and burns through my veins in a swift electric current. It almost tickles but in an unpleasant way. I hear voices. They are muffled and inaudible. I try to understand them without success. There is movement. I open my eyes in surprise. The bed jerks and begins to slide backward under a smooth white arch. I reach up to touch the plastic in fascination. My fingers press against the surface; it's cold. Suddenly there is a brilliant flash, more suffocating and intense than the darkness or even the blue light. A bolt of electricity violently bursts and tears through me from the inside out. Every muscle cramps, screaming with pain. I want to shield my eyes but I can't move my arms. I want to cry out but I can't open my mouth. I want to disappear and my wish comes true. I opened my eyes. I gave them a moment to adjust to the blinding light and my brain a moment to take in and register the blurry mess of surrounding objects. It wasn't until I suddenly recognized the rough material under me as carpet that I realized I wasn't in my bed.

I jerked up on my knees immediately. The back of my head throbbed dully and the muscles in my arms and legs felt cramped and stiff, as if I had been lying on them all night. I stood on wobbly knees and made my way to one of the plush beige chairs, lowering into it cautiously. This morning, I was more tired than usual. Perhaps I was so tired because I spent the night on the floor. Or maybe it was the dream. Vivid pictures still stained my memory, flashing in my mind and popping up, so clear and sharp that they must have been real. I'd never had a dream like this before. It was like comparing two photographs, one of which was submerged in murky water; both were clear enough to see, but all the details were sharper in the second photo. Things are different now, I reminded myself bitterly. My life had never been normal. At age nine, or maybe ten--I couldn't be entirely sure--I remembered being taken into the desert by a woman who I assumed to be my mother. She took me inside a small office and left me with a man I didn't know. For one week, I was a human guinea pig. After the last test had finally been performed I was given a room. And then, as if all of the memories of my past had been extracted from my brain, I no longer cared where I was or what happened to me. I was happy with my new life and that was all that mattered. My room had a bookcase filled with fascinating novels, a fancy wardrobe, plush beige chairs, a glass table, a comfortable bed, and pretty, unique decorations. Every day a nice woman named Midge came in to talk to me. I was fed on a normal basis. Nothing could possibly have been wrong with this life. However, things changed for me in the later years. As I grew older, my fondness of this place grew weaker. I soon found myself becoming very bored with the atmosphere of the room and my repetitive lifestyle. Though I was constantly given new books to read, all of them were the same. Everything was flat and dull. And as my interest in my new home died down, so did my satisfaction. I didn't understand why I didn't care about my childhood or why it didn't occur to me before that I should. I didn't understand how I had managed to be so happy despite being miles and miles away from my true home. I didn't understand how I could forget the feeling of rain trickling down my face like tears, or the feel of the blazing sun scorching my back on a summer day, the perfect, cloudless cerulean skies that stretched on forever in all directions. Yes, something was definitely wrong and I needed to know what was wrong with me. So I asked Midge. *** "Hello, Lacey. How are we this morning? How did you sleep?" Midge smiled pleasantly as she quickly dropped into the chair across from mine, locking eyes with me immediately. I smiled back, only to be polite. My stomach was churning

already; her cheery attitude and staring eyes weren't helping. "I'm well," I responded, self-consciously aware of every syllable I pronounced. "I had a nice sleep." Midge nodded as if she expected me to say more. "What about you?" I added to kill the awkward atmosphere that had already formed. Midge folded her hands in her lap. "The same," I already knew the question she was about to ask and reluctantly interrupted her before she could continue with our usual routine. "Midge?" I began. She closed her half-open mouth and raised her brows. "Before we continue... I've been having--some feelings that I was--curious about." Finding the right words was difficult. My voice came out small and squeaky. Midge frowned. "You see, I've never really cared that I'm here. And I like it, but... I can't recall anything of my childhood." Her first response was a pained expression, as if she had bit her tongue. I could only stare into her blue-grey eyes as she searched her mind for an answer. I had always thought Midge was pretty, with long black hair that hung in thick curls, gentle features, and glasses that only complimented them. Fighting to keep her expression from changing, she cleared her throat, and said in an almost-whisper, "I don't know what to tell you. I really don't know how to explain." My shoulders sagged with disappointment, but she wasn't finished. "But I will tell you this; I have talked to several other kids your age and you're not the first one to--have this issue. It fades with time." I cringed and bit my lip, dismayed. I wanted to know more, but Midge was a stubborn woman when it came to questions and answers; she never said anything she didn't mean, and never said anything she didn't want to. "Sorry I asked," I mumbled under my breath. Midge's expression softened a little. "It's all right, Lacey. You will be fine." There was a moment of silence until finally Midge spoke again. Midge looked surprised. "Really?" she asked. I nodded. "That's a little strange. You don't usually forget these things. Well, I guess I can't be one to talk. I don't remember mine, either." Midge chuckled and I laughed with her. Her light, gentle laughter eased some of the tension. The tension returned moments later. "Lacey, how--how often do you think about your childhood?" she asked casually. I answered without thinking. "All the time," I blurted. It was a relief to share my feelings with someone. But Midge clearly wasn't comfortable with this subject; there was something she wasn't telling me.

"Please elaborate." "I want to know what it was like for me before I came here, is all. It doesn't seem natural to me that I should suddenly have forgotten everything." Midge nodded like she understood, but I could tell by the look on her face that she didn't. She suddenly took her eyes off me and glanced back at the clock. It read 8:35. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I was a little late this morning. Its breakfast time, isn't it?" she said. I shrugged. I never really paid any attention to the time. "I suppose it is," I replied. Midge immediately stood and left the room, leaving me in silence. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. She returned after fifteen long minutes carrying an omelet and a can of juice and placed them atop the table before me. "Wow," I commented, smiling. I hadn't tasted eggs in so long. I instantly grabbed my fork and yanked off a large chunk, shoving it into my mouth hungrily. It tasted incredible, with just the right amount of cheese and seasoning. Just the way I had always liked it... "Tell me," Midge began. "What images and thoughts come to mind when you eat that?" I groaned inwardly and glanced up at her for the first time since she'd given me the omelet. "It tastes just like I remembered it," I muttered in defeat. There was no point in trying to avoid her questions anymore. Clearly, I was being tested. "I remember eating eggs a lot when I was a kid." I swallowed the last bit of omelet, set down the plate, and reached for the juice. The flavor was so familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time that it took me by surprise; it was bitter, sweet, and tangy. "Now you tell me, Midge; why do you do this?" I said sharply. She raised one eyebrow. "What do you mean?" "You never completely answer my questions about my past, and then you ask me questions about my past and I have no choice but to answer them." She didn't respond. She didn't even look at me. Instead, she scooted forward in her chair, and grabbed the empty can and plate. "Answers will come soon. That's all I can say." With that, she stood and walked to the door. "I have a lot of work to do today, so I need to head out early. Have a nice day." As she walked out the door, I noticed a thick stack of gray papers fall and hit the floor. I wanted to jump up and tell her but by the time I was on my feet; the door was closed and locked. I quickly made my way over to the papers. I picked them up curiously and scanned my eyes over the front page. This could be private, I mentally scolded myself, turning the

paper over. On the other side, scribbled in dark blue, was a list of instructions. And it was addressed to me. "Lacey," it read. "1. Put these papers in your shirt. 2. Go into the bathroom. 3. Get in shower, close curtain. KEEP YOUR BACK TURNED TO THE CLOCK AND MIRROR!!! 4. Open to first page. 5. After you read message run water over papers until they dissolve." I shook my head at her crazy instructions, wondering how the clock and letter had anything to do with me. Regardless, I took the papers and awkwardly stuffed them into my shirt. It left uneven, sharp bumps that poked up from underneath. If she wanted me to keep them hidden, I wasn't doing a very good job. When they were secured inside, I slipped into the bathroom, turning around at the last second so that my back was facing the mirror but the front of my body could no longer be seen, blocked by the door. Then I stepped into the shower, jerked the yellow curtain closed, and began to read. "Lacey, I understand that you will be confused, and I know that you will have questions, but I need you to understand that I am only trying to protect you. I am going to tell you something, and you must never tell anyone about it. It could endanger your life. You are being watched. There are cameras and microphones hidden in every room of this complex. Every child has a clock and a mirror. That's where the cameras are hidden, and that's why I told you to keep your back turned to them. You are not like most others, Lacey. You are a danger to the world, a threat, and we have been trying to keep you and so many others hidden from society for years. But things have changed. The people running this program are doing things that they shouldn't be. You are no longer safe here. I am sending someone to find you very soon. They will explain to you what I have not. We cannot discuss this during our next session, or any session, really. You HAVE to keep this a secret. Only the one I send for you can know. I wish I did not have to do this to you. Until things are sorted out and you are safe again, good luck. And remember, they're watching you. Be safe. Midge Lattering." I dropped the papers to the floor of the tub, climbed out, and yanked the left handle counter-clockwise as far as it would go, as if washing the paper away would wash the words away too. In minutes, the paper was gone, leaving behind only small, gray fibers. At the moment it was impossible for me to take in everything Midge had told me. I fully understood every word she had written, but my mind had no emotional response to any of

it. I didn't know how to feel. That night I didn't sleep until four AM. The clock wouldn't stop staring at me. *** Midge rested her head on the table, feeling a combination of anger, worry, and exhaustion. She was in Meeting Room B; no one would bother her there, since meetings were only held once every week and the room wasn't used for other purposes. It was too late to go back to the room and retrieve the letter. It was too late to take back the words she had written. Yet she knew that Lacey's potential was too much to waste. She needed to know. But if Midge had done the right thing, then why did she feel so guilty? The door creaked open. Midge didn't bother to raise her head to whoever was approaching. "Who died?" She instantly recognized Amelia's voice and sighed. "I'm just very tired." Amelia snorted. "You say that every time. This is probably the fifteenth time I've caught you dozing off during work hours. Why don't you tell me what's really going on?" Midge sighed inwardly. Amelia was more skeptical and sarcastic than some of the teenagers she had worked with and equally irritating. Amelia walked swiftly to the table. She pulled out a chair and sat down, waiting expectantly for Midge's answer. "I wasn't lying to you when I said I was tired, Amy," she said, making certain to keep her tone steady so that her thick-headed co-worker wouldn't mistake it for playfulness. "Well... You're always tired. Maybe you should, I don't know, take a little break? You have fifteen vacation days. Why not put a few of them to good use and take a rest?" Midge normally would have brushed off any idea from Amy. Then she considered her current situation. Lacey was stubborn as a mule and as curious and inquisitive as a six year-old at times. She was bound to have thousands of questions by their next session. I told her we couldn't discuss this, she remembered. Whether out of true desire or selfish fear, Midge agreed; she did need a break. "Maybe you're right," she sighed finally after a long moment. Amy seemed surprised, taken aback by her reply. "You're seriously agreeing with me on something? Next thing I know, it'll start raining bricks," she joked. Midge gave a half-smile. "Really, I think you're right."

Amy leaned back in her chair and remained silent for a few moments until she found an excuse to continue the conversation. "So, what's, uh--what's bothering you?" she asked. "I mean, there has to be something that's making your job harder." "Just... dealing with all these hormonal adolescents." Amy laughed. "Teens are a pain, aren't they?" Midge nodded in agreement. She had nothing else to say. Amy suddenly stiffened, stood, and sat down beside her. "Adrian should be here soon. He'll get mad if I take his spot again." Midge suddenly remembered what day it was; Thursday. Thursday was meeting day. Time flies when you're stressing out she thought, her brain still foggy from the half-nap she had tried to take. Amy's expression changed quickly from playful to serious. "Are you all right? You don't look so good. Maybe you're sick? Or maybe--" "For the last time, I'm just tired," Midge snapped. Amy frowned, as if surprised that Midge would be bothered by her persistence. "Sorry," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. Then Adrian arrived. With a genuine smile, he took a seat in front of Midge. Before either of them could greet each other, Amy interrupted in her high-pitched voice, "Aid, you didn't take your usual spot!" Adrian chuckled. Amy didn't seem to bother him, but Midge decided it made sense. They were siblings, but they may as well have been clones, just of the opposite sex. There wasn't a thing they didn't agree on. They had the same caramel skin, same dark hair, and same eyes deep, brown eyes, though Amy's were a little darker. The only differences were in their features and Adrian was more peaceful and calm. He was also more intelligent; one of the main reasons Midge preferred his company to his sister's. James came only thirty seconds behind Adrian. James, Midge's older brother, was the most serious of their group. That was most likely the reason he had been put in charge. He and Midge were nearly identical in terms of appearance, but unlike Adrian and Amelia, their personalities were very different. James had been responsible and serious since childhood, while Midge was quiet and obedient. She was a useful tool, doing what she needed when she was needed and following orders in silence. That is, up until the past few weeks. "Good evening, everyone," James greeted. A smile rested on his usually somber face and his eyes were wide open and bright. Midge wondered how he always had so much energy and why he was in such a good mood today. "How is everyone?" he asked, too cheerfully. Midge groaned mentally as she found the reason for his cheery mood. James was warming them up and easing any tension to prevent future arguments; he had bad news to share with them.

"Good," each of them replied more-or-less simultaneously. James decided to begin the meeting with a little small talk, asking light and simple questions, but Midge wasn't paying attention to anything. Her stomach felt cold and slightly nauseated. Maybe she really was getting sick. "Now, onto more serious matters...," James began after a few minutes. "I--wait... Where's Mike?" It seemed that everyone had forgotten Michael. Michael was a quiet man who'd been given a position in their group just over a month ago. Most of the time he remained silent during their meetings, speaking only when he was addressed or when he had a strong opinion about something. "I saw him earlier at lunch," Amy said, frowning. James rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, allowing some of his hidden aggravation to show. "Never mind, let's just start. Now, as all of you know, we're having quite an issue with some of our teenage patients." "Midge, would you please explain to us the sort of issues your patients are experiencing?" Midge hated the way he referred to them as patients. They weren't sick, just--different. "They seem to have difficulty remembering their childhoods. No, that's not it... It's that they want to remember their childhoods and they're not supposed to." James pursed his lips and glared at his fingers for a few seconds. "Why do you think that is?" he asked her, finally looking up. She shrugged weakly, praying silently that she wouldn't slip up and give anything away. "They're teenagers. Teenagers are hormonal, and easily stressed, and--" "Not what I meant." "They aren't stupid; they know how to think for themselves. Even large doses of antidepressants won't stop them from having their own thoughts and opinions. And as you know, most teens go through a rebellious phase." "What about Tracy? I mean, didn't you say she was acting really strange lately?" Amelia chimed in. "Her name is Lacey," Midge corrected, "and yes, she has been behaving strangely. She's depressed. She mentions home quite often though she doesn't seem to realize it." "Perhaps the drugs only work on children?" Adrian suggested. "That's definitely a possibility," Amy agreed, snapping her fingers. James shook his head.

"That's not it. We brought in a child of only four years. She's seventeen now and we haven't had any problems with her whatsoever. Midge, I think you're right. It has to do with their level of intelligence." "So maybe we should just stop taking children over the age of ten?" Amy said. Midge fought the urge to scowl. "What would we do about them? We can't just leave them to discover their powers on their own," Midge argued. "And we can't let them figure out the truth." James made a face and clicked his tongue against his teeth. Midge suddenly knew that this was what he had been getting at from the beginning. She shook her head violently back and forth and slammed her hands against the hard wooden surface of the table. "You're not thinking of killing them... We can't do that." Her voice broke and weakened as she said "killing". "The state has given us permission to do whatever we want with them. You aren't getting attached to your patients, are you?" Midge had started shaking her head halfway through his sentence, big mistake. "What's going on between you and your patients?" Bingo. He'd figured it out. Thankfully Adrian, being the peacemaker he was, jumped in before James could push any further. "Killing is wrong and you know it," he snapped. "If there's something wrong with anyone, it's you. We aren't killing anyone." "Who do you think you are to have the authority to make that decision?" James growled in response. "I'm nobody," he admitted. "But I know for a fact that the state would never allow this." "What they don't know can't hurt them," James replied darkly. Midge gasped in surprise. "James, what's gotten into you?" "Nothing," he hissed. "You don't understand; none of you do. These people are dangerous. What happens if we lose control of them? What happens if they lose control of themselves?" "They haven't done anything wrong." Midge was interrupted by the sound of the door bursting open. Into the room stumbled a young teenage girl with short blonde hair. She wore a green worker's uniform; a stolen uniform. Her hands had been bound behind her back. Michael forced his way in after her, panting heavily. He stepped back, glaring. "I found this in the examination room," he

said, gesturing to the girl. She squirmed as if trying to get out of the cuffs. Her name was Alyssa. She was one of the newer patients, taken at seventeen. Midge personally thought she would have been better off in prison. "Let me go, you bastards!" she screeched. Michael quickly grabbed her arms to hold her still. She stiffened at his touch and gritted her teeth. Suddenly, Michael released her and stumbled backward into the wall. He moaned. Everyone at the table stood immediately but recoiled, afraid to be near Alyssa. She glared down at Michael, who was now on the floor, clutching his head and groaning. She delivered a kick to his ribs. "That'll teach you," she sneered. He let out a wail of pain in response. Midge felt frozen in place. Finally, James snapped out of his horrified trance and reached under his shirt. He withdrew a gun from his belt and aimed it at her chest. "Move and I'll shoot," he warned, advancing toward her. She backed away until she was trapped in the corner. "Don't touch me you creep!" "Don't move!" James's shout echoed into silence. Alyssa alternated between staring at the door and the gun, unable to decide what action to take. James moved toward her unexpectedly. "Don't try anything," he growled. Midge watched the scene from a faraway corner in her mind, unable to believe what she was seeing. James was right, as much as she hated to admit it. Things had never been this way. Things really had changed, for the worse. It was only a matter of time until the tower upon which they had been stacking lie after lie, excuse after excuse, came crashing down. This was beginning of the end. There was no more time for hesitation. *** I awoke the next morning terrified. As I lay in bed, I couldn't help but to shudder at every glimpse I caught of the clock. I closed my eyes, but the clock and the mirror were always there, sitting in some corner of my peripheral vision. Even when I kept my back turned, I knew I was still being watched. The knowledge that I was constantly being monitored wasn't the only thing troubling me. Lines from Midge's letter kept repeating in my head. Things had changed. I was in danger. I was danger. Someone was coming for me. Why do you have to be so cryptic?! I growled mentally in frustration, knowing that they--whoever "they" were--could hear every word I said. I decided that maybe a shower would calm my nerves. I climbed out of bed and stepped into the bathroom. My stomach clenched at the sight of the mirror and decided not to undress until I was behind the curtain, tossing them out onto the floor when I finished. I

turned the hot water handle and held out my hands in anticipation. But the feeling of water washing over my skin never came, nor did the sound of it gushing from the showerhead. I opened my eyes and looked up with a frown. All I could hear was a low gurgle. I bent over, turned off the water, and tried again, this time pushing the shower button in with more force. The button suddenly popped off and freezing water exploded from the hole. I gasped as bumps erupted over my skin and tried to block the water with my hands, but it wasn't working. Finally, I stepped out, redressed, and left the room. "Help!" I called. Early on, Midge had mentioned to me that if I ever needed help with something someone would come if I called for them. I never understood before how that was possible. Now it made sense to me. It took a minute for someone to arrive, but I was relieved when they did. A middle-aged man with black hair who I had never seen before entered the room. "What seems to be the problem, miss?" he asked politely. "I think the shower's broken," I replied. The man laughed when he heard the sound of water pounding against the wall. "I'll go take a look at it and see what I can do," he laughed. He turned away and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "Whoa!" I heard him exclaim over the roar of the water. I turned toward the clock, then toward the door. I noticed that he hadn't locked it. Any time someone came into the room they locked the door behind them, except for this man. I pushed down the thought before it fully formed in my mind. It was too dangerous, I reminded myself. And why would I... All at once, Midge's letter came tumbling back through my thoughts. Things had changed. I was in danger. I wasn't safe here. And the answers to all my questions now sat just within my reach, behind the thick piece of wood. All I had to do was grab the knob, turn, and pull... It was dangerous. That I knew for certain. But how long had I waited for this moment? How long had I been waiting for the opportunity to leave? I felt my legs walk to the door though my mind protested vehemently. My fingers curled around the metal knob, gripped it, and turned it until the door cracked open. I pushed it further. There was a sudden, loud crash from the bathroom. I swiftly yanked it open the rest of the way, sprinting into an empty hallway. I pushed the door closed behind me and felt my stomach roll over. I was out. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. My ears roared. My breathing

sounded irregular. I took a shaky step away from the door and couldn't help but notice how loud my footsteps, even on the smooth, carpeted floor, sounded. The walls were a dark shade of orange, with square panels and strips of white and red. The colors were sickeningly bold. I wanted to go back to my room. I finally reached a red door at the end of the hallway after what seemed like an eternity of walking. I needed to keep a clear mind and find somewhere to hide or some way to navigate through the building without being seen. "Lacey? Lacey, where are you?" the man said from my room. His voice was muffled, but coherent enough that I could make out the words. I whipped my head back and frantically grabbed the handle of the door before me. It wouldn't budge. I spun around to find another door and tried it. The door swung open. I gratefully scrambled into the room and pushed the door closed behind me, just in time to hear the sound of the man exiting the room. My heart continued to hammer in my chest. I needed to hide, I needed to hide. I was in a storage room of sorts. Stacks of cardboard boxes and enormous metal cases stretched from one end of the room to the other in an unorganized mess. The concrete floor was cold under my bare feet. I dove behind a stack of boxes, desperate to stay out of sight. I leaned against the boxes and tried to draw in a steady breath. Suddenly, a light flicked on, illuminating a small circle around me. I was sitting beside a glass wall. Behind the wall was a girl in a bed and a man wearing doctor scrubs. My mind flashed back to the dream and for a few moments all I could do was stare, entranced and disbelieving. The girl in the bed tried without success to roll onto her side. I could see her eyes moving under the lids, but she didn't open them. It was almost like watching the dream from outside of my body. The doctor crossed his arms, watching her. Then another doctor entered the room, this one female. The girl stopped trying to roll over. My jaw gaped. I knew what was going to happen next. This couldn’t be real, this had to be a dream The female doctor disappeared from sight for a second. The bed began to slide backward. Then the flash came, just as it had in the dream. I was too late to shield my eyes. They stung and watered from the intense white light. I blocked out the light with my hands but they continued to burn. In a few seconds I would wake up. The light faded, leaving me blind for several seconds. I blinked away spots until I was able to make out the shapes of the surrounding objects. I was still in the storage room, it wasn't a dream. Feet slapped against the floor somewhere nearby. Holding my breath, I stood. I couldn't see the person, but I could hear them getting closer. As silently as possible I dashed behind the nearest metal container and pressed my back up against it. The footsteps

stopped for a second then started again, this time faster. I ran around the corner of the container though I knew it was too late. My heart dropped into my stomach at the realization that I'd been caught. The sound of feet thudding against the floor behind me grew louder. The steps were nearly ten times quicker than mine. I flattened my back against the metal wall of the case, expecting something to emerge from the darkness and kill me. Then the steps stopped again. I sucked in a deep breath in anticipation. But I heard only silence. What sort of trick was this person trying to pull? I scooted along the wall, anxious to get away. Then my pursuer appeared from nowhere. In a matter of seconds I was pinned against the wall, a shadowed face scowling at me through the darkness. The man backed away slightly, leaning with one hand against the wall to support himself. "Don't. Speak," he hissed.

Veritas

I bit my tongue to stifle the scream in my throat. Through the darkness I could make out the shape of his eyes. I tried to struggle free; this angered him. I felt his fist tighten around the collar of my shirt as he pulled me forward. "Keep. Your mouth. Shut," he growled. The fury in his voice made me want to run. Then he released me from his tight grip and stepped back, gesturing for me to follow. Now's your chance to run, I thought nervously. I quickly stamped down the idea at the sight of his hand reaching for my sleeve. Finally, I grudgingly began to walk behind him with a heavy sigh, glancing over my shoulder. All the while, my conscience screamed for me to run away, begged me to go back to the safety of my room. I was afraid of what might happen if I followed him. But I was also afraid of what would happen if I didn't. The boy approached an old, metal door in between a case and the wall, and jerked down on the handle. He leaned back until it screeched open. Behind this door lay a dark, empty hallway. The boy jerked me through the doorway before I could protest and yanked it shut behind us, then grabbed my shoulders and prodded me forward. I tensed at the touch of his hands, balling my hands into fists. I'd had enough of this. "Who the hell are you?" I demanded in a low whisper. His response at first was nothing more than an angry grunt, but after a moment, he mumbled something to himself and replied, "My name is Bryan, and both of us are going to be in a lot of trouble if you don't keep quiet." The boy, Bryan, groaned softly. "Midge is going to kill me." "You know Midge?" I asked with surprise.

"I live with her. And I'll tell you now, after that stunt you pulled, she isn't going to be very happy with you, either." I couldn't think of anything to say in response. Relief was beginning to overpower my fear. He knows Midge. He lives with her. So he's safe, right? I asked myself. Suddenly, Bryan grabbed me roughly by the arm, pulling me back. I jerked out of his grasp in agitation. "What was that for?" I snapped. Then I looked down and noticed the stairway leading downward to another door. "You're lucky I stopped you," Bryan said coldly. I cringed with embarrassment as we headed down the cold, smooth steps. I wondered what was behind the door. Would we emerge into a crowded place somewhere far away, or enter an empty room? Would Midge be there, waiting for us? Bryan stepped in front of me and pushed the door open. This one, unlike the other, took little effort to open. Light flooded the hallway. I shielded my eyes, unable to see for a moment. I blinked a few times and found myself standing in another hallway, this one well-lit with green carpet and beige wallpaper. Several wooden doors lined the walls. Bryan walked over to the door right in front of us and knocked three times. He leaned on his right leg and folded his arms over his chest with a heavy sigh. We waited in the awkward silence for several moments. Then he tried again, knocking louder this time. The door cracked open. Midge's tired face appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were half-closed, and she was still in her red pajamas. "What do you want?" she muttered. "I thought I told you all to leave me alone today." She yawned softly and stretched her arms. Then she opened her eyes and instantly pulled the door open the rest of the way. She reached into the hallway and grabbed each of us by our sleeves. She pulled us into the room, slammed the door, and shoved me up against the nearest wall. "Lacey, what is the meaning of this?" Midge bellowed. "What in the world are you doing here?" I shrank back slightly, cringing nervously. "I got out of my room. Then Bryan--then Bryan found me and he took me here, to this place," I stammered. Midge's eyes bulged. "You did what? What were you thinking, you could have been caught! Did the letter I wrote mean nothing to you?" I felt a stab of guilt, but it was quickly overthrown by the need to defend myself. "You don't know what it's like!" I burst out. "I've been living in the same room for six years, and then you write a letter and tell me I'm in danger and you say we can't talk about it, and you expect me to just sit there and pretend nothing has changed?"

"You think it's any easier for me? I am putting both of our lives at risk by trying to help you! I've spent months trying to find a solution, and when I finally come up with one, you wash it down the drain," she spat, jabbing her index finger at my face. I tried to back away but there was nowhere to go. "You're not the one being imprisoned," I said calmly. Midge snorted and rolled her eyes dramatically. "You know what, I'd say this isn't about you, but it is. It's all about you. I put myself in great danger by trying to protect you, and this is how you repay me?" she yelled through gritted teeth, leaning forward and holding her hands back as if to restrain herself. "You're repeating yourself." "That's it, I've had it! Go ahead and leave. I don't care what happens, just leave me out of it. Clearly, you don't need my help!" "Midge, it was an accident," I protested. "So, you just happened to trip and stumble out the doorway, is that it? Is that what happened?" The rage that had been growing inside of me finally ignited. She had gone too far. I drew back my arm, imagining my fist slamming into her nose. Then something stopped my fist midway, twisted my wrist backward, and shoved it down. Bryan stepped forward and threw his arms out. "If both of you don't shut up right now, someone is going to get suspicious. Keep it down," he barked. Midge shot him a harsh look. Finally, after several moments of loud huffing, her expression softened. "Sorry, Bryan. You're right," she murmured. Then she turned to me. "Lacey," she began. "I understand that you've made a mistake. But this is bigger than you, this is bigger than any of us. It's not as simple as it seems and I'm not even sure I understand what kind of trouble I've gotten us into." "Then why did you do--whatever it is you did, in the first place?" I responded solemnly. Midge looked hurt. As my anger faded, I began to feel ashamed of myself, and sorry for her. Tears were beginning to well in her eyes. "I did it for you. I disobeyed them for you. When I realized what was really going on here, I wanted to save you. There are others like you. And they might not be so lucky." I took a moment to consider what she was saying. It was touching to know that she was doing this to protect me; I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for ruining her plans, even if I hadn't intended to do so. But if that wasn't the case, then what had I wanted? "I suppose it's time I told you the truth," Midge exhaled, interrupting my train of thought.

"Really?" I felt a surge of excitement and took a step toward her, staring up expectantly like a small child. "Right now?" Midge opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it with a frown. "I think I'll make breakfast first. I'll bet you and Bryan are very hungry right now," she said. I smiled a little. "That sounds good." *** Over the sizzle of the frying pan, Midge called back to us. "Eggs or pancakes?" Bryan shrugged his shoulders. "I'm cool with whatever Lacey wants," he replied casually. "Pancakes," I decided aloud without thinking. I had other things on my mind, waiting anxiously to hear the truth, as if knowing would make everything better. As Midge began to stir a bowl of pancake batter, I glanced over at Bryan, who was leaning with one foot against the wall to my left, his arms crossed. He stared blankly at the refrigerator in the corner of Midge's small, kitchen-like area. Midge's home wasn't nearly large enough to be considered a home. It was barely large enough to be considered an apartment. Beside the door sat a couch and a lamp, and in front of them, a "TV". At the back of the room, divided by a thin wall, were the kitchen area and a wooden chair and table barely large enough for one person. Near the front door was the bathroom, and near the kitchen was the bedroom. Both were cramped and tight. I suddenly realized that I was being treated better than the doctors themselves, and that wasn't right. Finally, Midge finished cooking our breakfast and handed me a plate stacked with pancakes. Thick syrup oozed over the sides, and a small pad of butter at the top of the stack was beginning to melt into it. I took a bite of the slightly stiff pancakes and tried to ignore the overpowering sweetness of the syrup. Bryan sluggishly grabbed a plate and plopped onto the couch. I took note of how he had chosen to sit at the very end, and the way he kept his eyes trained on Midge, who sat at the table in the corner, as if I weren't there. Now that I could see him in the light, he looked much younger. His tousled, light blonde hair looked as if it hadn't been brushed in a long time. His black pajamas, unlike mine, were wrinkled and stained in some places, like he hadn't changed them within the last week or so. He took enormous bites of his food and gulped them down without bothering to keep his mouth closed as he chewed or wipe up the syrup that had dripped onto his chin.

Finally, after we had our fill of pancakes, the three of us piled our plates and forks into the sink and sat down on the sofa once more. I drew in a deep breath and released it as something fluttered inside of me. Midge was ready to open my eyes to the truth, whether I wanted to see it or not. She began by clearing her throat softly and folding her hands in her lap. "As I've told you before, you are not like normal girls, or humans, for that matter. You're special." "This whole mess started several years ago when a doctor--Robert Scham, I believe-noticed something unusual about one of his patients. You see, his patient had recently suffered from a severe head injury in a car accident, and it was Robert's job to perform a special brain scan called an MRI on him. This scan allowed him to see picture's of the man's brain so he could verify that none of the tissue or cells had been damaged." "And as he was studying the pictures, he noticed some abnormalities in this man's brain; there were clusters of cells that shouldn't have been there, and the very structure of the brain itself was different from that of a normal human." This was ridiculous. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "So you're saying that I'm brain damaged? That I'm--" "Not brain damaged," Midge interrupted. "You're actually at an advantage to regular people, I suppose." "The fact that the structure of the man's brain was different had nothing to do with the accident, nor did the abnormal cell clusters. It wasn't damage, Lacey; he had been like this for years. So have you, and all the others out there with this deformity." I was sensed that Midge hadn't told me everything. I was beginning to regret eating breakfast. "So what?" I said, trying without success to sound nonchalant and unperturbed. "His brain was a little different. Why do they have to imprison us?" "Because you're dangerous." Midge's voice had turned suddenly cold. "This will sound ridiculous, but Lacey, you have--abilities. Powers." I felt a combination of relief and annoyance. "Powers?" I said skeptically. "Yes." "I'm not sure I understand... This--this is too much. It's too confusing." "It's actually quite simple," Bryan interjected sharply before Midge could reply, speaking for the first time in this conversation. "You, me, and everyone else here except for the

doctors, have powers." I stared at the floor. My mind couldn't grasp this fact, no matter how many times I repeated it in my head. I kept waiting for one of them to burst out laughing and tell me it was all a joke, but their expressions remained solemn. "Yeah, but... I thought that stuff was... fake. Fiction." "Welcome to reality," Bryan responded bitterly. Midge gave him a look of disapproval. "No need to be rude," she scolded. Then she turned back to me. "So... If you have them too," I said to Bryan. "Then--what is your power?" "I don't know yet. I haven't discovered it." "Sometimes it takes years after the mutation begins for people to discover their abilities," Midge explained. "Part of that is because of the drugs they put in your food." I gasped and cringed. "They put drugs in my food?" I exploded. Midge nodded sympathetically. "The whole purpose of this program was to find a cure for the mutations and stop them from occurring. But even after years and years of research, all we've managed to do is create anti-depressants that somewhat neutralize your emotions and cause your memories to fade." "That's why I can't remember anything..." I muttered, letting the words sink in. "They also make you kind of stupid." I glared at him as Midge slapped him lightly on the shoulder, scolding him again. He shrugged and held up his hands in self-defense. "Hey, I was kind of stupid for awhile, until the drugs wore off. Just telling her the truth." "Knock it off, Bryan. Please," Midge said firmly. We all stared at each other awkward silence, anxiously searching our minds for something to say. I bit my lip as a question came to mind. "So, how do you and Bryan tie into any of this?" I asked. Midge stared at her hands for a moment before answering. "About seven years ago, a group of doctors and psychiatrists were accepted and employed to work here. I was one of them. In the beginning, I thought we were working for a wonderful cause. Later on, I began to realize that this wasn't a place to cure those who had the mutation; it was a way of imprisoning them. As soon as I realized what they were up to, I took Bryan, who I had been counseling at the time, and staged his death so that he could live with me."

"So, you made it look like he'd died, but why did you keep him with you?" "Even at the age of nine, Bryan knew something was wrong. He used to argue with me about leaving all the time. I don't know, maybe I'm just a terrible counselor." Midge chuckled at her own joke, but her laughter quickly faded to a deep, heavy sigh. "Finally, after I got past the fact that he was not a normal child and that this was an emergency, I decided that I would one day send him away to seek help. But I realized that he would not be able to handle it on his own, and found another child to accompany him; you." I tightened my fists; I didn't like the turn this conversation was beginning to take. "And you can't make the journey on your own because...?" I asked suspiciously. In response, Midge pursed her lips. "The two of you are invisible. Almost all of your records have been kept hidden in a safe place. It would take a very long time for anyone who isn't a part of our organization to recognize you. I would do this myself if it weren't for the fact that I am trapped here and completely under their control. I'm lucky they haven't put cameras in every room." I thought for a few seconds about what she had said. Then something occurred to me, and yet another piece of this puzzle was connected. "You're still going to send us away. That's what the message was all about. You were going to have him find me and tell me everything..." "Which was exactly what I was coming to do. I had temporarily disabled the security cameras. Had you waited just a few seconds, there wouldn't have been a problem," he said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Look, I didn't know what I was doing, all right?" I argued. "Sure. I believe you." I glared at Bryan, unable to understand what it was about me that irritated him so. "I honestly wasn't sure of what I was thinking, Bryan. You try living in the same room for six years. Then you'll know what it's like." "In case you've forgotten, I have been living in the same place for several years. More than you, actually." "At least you weren't afraid and confused!" "You were never afraid. The drugs won't allow you to feel any intense emotions." Midge placed her hands firmly on our shoulders. "Please, you two. Settle down."

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched beeping sound. I jumped back in surprise and stared intently at Midge; the sound was coming from her pocket. "What's going on, what is that?" I demanded. Midge held up her index finger. She pulled out a small electronic device, pressed a button on the front, and held it up to her ear. "Hello?" she said into the object. "Yes?" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, god, no. You're kidding me... She did not do that. Oh, god, I'll be right there. Mhmm, I will," she said with artificial fear and worry, taking long pauses between sentences. When she was done speaking, Midge pulled the device away and pressed another button. "Well. My boss just called me and told me all about your crazy escape. I have to go to a meeting," she said. Wordlessly, Midge turned away, entered her bedroom, and came out in her usual green uniform a minute later. She hurriedly walked out the front door without bothering to say goodbye. I stared at the wall for a few moments, slightly worried for Midge, who had seemed rather nervous as she left us. Bryan, instead of turning his head away from me, trained his eyes on me as if he were about to speak. Searching for an excuse for conversation, I pointed to the square, black device at a few feet away from the couch. "What is that?" I asked him. He smirked. "It's a TV," he replied, as if the answer should have been an obvious one. "What does it do?" "It shows different scenes and pictures that all form together into what's called a 'show' or a 'movie'." I frowned. I didn't quite understand his definition. "Can you—make it work?" He leaned over the side of the couch for a moment and came back up holding a small, black device with many buttons on it, like the one Midge had used earlier. He pressed one, and the screen instantly lit up, showing a picture of a man holding a bottle of toothpaste. I gasped in astonishment. "I've never seen anything like that," I said when Bryan gave me an odd look. "How does it work?" Bryan snorted. "Magic," he said sarcastically. The image changed to show a cartoon mouse and cat. The cat was chasing the mouse through a green field. The mouse suddenly disappeared, and returned momentarily with an enormous metal stick. He struck the cat over the head with it and ran.

"How strange..." I murmured. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bryan rolling his eyes at me. I finally gave into the flicker of frustration, turning to face him. "What is your problem?" I snapped. In response, Bryan only raised an eyebrow. "Every single thing you've said to me so far has been rude and... and mean!" He wouldn't answer me. Instead, he turned his attention back to the TV and watched the screen without interest. I punched the seat next to him to get his attention. "I'm jealous, okay?" His answer took me by surprise. I considered that for a few seconds, then shook my head. "What is there to be jealous of?" I muttered in confusion. "It's Midge. All she ever talks about is you. 'Oh no, Lacey is sick, I hope she feels better soon!' 'Lacey's so wonderful' 'Lacey this, Lacey that'. It gets annoying after awhile. Midge is the closest thing I've ever had to a mother, and now all she cares about is you. The only reason she wanted to send me away with you is so that I could make sure you didn't get hurt." "Oh..." I said softly. I looked down at my feet. Bryan had been so rude, because he was jealous... It didn't seem right of him to say so, and if it was true, it didn't seem fair. "She still cares about you, I'm sure." "You don't know her as well as you think you do." "But I know that she has a good heart. And if she didn't like you, she wouldn't have let you live with her," I protested. "Things changed. She cares way more about you than she does about... anything, really. But then again... Oh, never mind." Unable to come up with anything good to say, I turned my attention back to the TV. The cat and the mouse were gone now, replaced by three idiotically-dressed teenage boys. The style of drawing, I noticed, was also very different. One of them was holding a black object in his had. Four digits glowed green on the front of it, decreasing quickly; it was a clock, I realized. All four digits changed to zero. There was a sudden flash on the screen, and splashes of color exploded from the object. "What was that?" I asked, slightly confused. "That was a time bomb." "And a time bomb is...?"

"An explosive device that goes off after a certain period of time." I tapped my chin with my index finger. "So it's like a... Clock, sort of." "Yeah." The teenagers now stood covered in black marks and dust. One of them walked over to a vehicle on the side of the road they had been standing by and climbed onto it. It made a loud buzzing sound and zoomed off. The others watched him with black expressions. "What was that thing?" I asked Bryan curiously. "A motorcycle?" He said this as if he expected me to already know this. Then he frowned. "Wow, they really messed you up... Do you know what anything is?" he asked. He sounded both concerned and skeptical, both of which were annoying, so I quickly stepped to my own defense. "Of course I know what some things are," I fumed. Bryan rose from the couch and led me to the kitchen area. He gestured to the counter with his hands. "What's that thing in the counter?" he asked. This time, I raised my brows. "It's a sink. You turn the faucet, and water pours out," I said, rolling my eyes. "I know about basic things. Everything else, though... Like "motorcycles" and "time bombs"... well, I forgot about them, because I never used them. Bryan nodded. "Makes sense," he said to himself. He tapped his foot for a few seconds. "Do you know what this is?" he asked. He reached into a drawer on one of the counters and pulled out an oddly shaped tool, with gears at the top and two plastic handles. I laughed a little. "Not really," I replied. For the next thirty minutes or so, Bryan and I traveled from room to room. He stopped every few seconds to show me a new object and asked me if I knew what it was. If I didn't know (and to be honest, I barely knew any of them), he would let me examine it and explain its purpose to me. "After all," he had said, "If you and I end up traveling together, you're going to need to know what you're doing." Though I was fairly entertained by this little game he had invented, I couldn't help but feel that he wasn't doing it out of friendliness, or because he wanted to entertain me. At times, he seemed very annoyed by my lack of knowledge, though I explained several times to him that I could only remember things that I had read about in books, and things from my own room. Running away with him will be so much fun, I thought sarcastically. After having debated the subject with myself for awhile, I finally decided to let it go and be grateful for having someone to talk to.

The only room we had yet to explore was Midge's bedroom. Bryan was a little reluctant about going in there at first. He paused at the threshold, leaning against the door frame. "I'm not sure if we should do that... That's kind of her personal space," he said, then added quickly, "but I guess it's okay, as long as we don't mess with anything important." We entered the room silently, as if not to disturb a sleeping person. Bryan walked over to a square, digital clock-like object sitting atop a small wooden table. He placed his hand firmly on top of it, and carried on with the routine. "What is this?" he asked. I frowned and took a moment to study it. It reminded me a lot of the bomb from the TV show. "I don't know," I admitted sheepishly with a giggle. "A time bomb?" This time, Bryan actually chuckled. He normally just smirked and explained, but he just started to laugh and didn't stop for a few seconds. "No," he said. "It's not a time bomb. It's called an alarm clock. People use them to wake themselves at certain times." I nodded to show him that I understood. All of a sudden, as if it had been hiding and waiting for the right moment to come out, reality struck me; Bryan and I were freaks, and because of it, we were being held in captivity. I leaned back against the door and the side of a bookshelf; it felt as if gravity were trying to pull me down. "What's wrong?" Bryan asked. "Are you all right?" Apparently, he had noticed. He approached me slowly and stared into my eyes as if there were something he could see in them, something that concerned him. I drew back toward Midge's bed and sank to the floor. He sat down in front of the book case. "Bryan... When Midge was explaining everything to me, she never told me exactly what it was that these people were starting to do that she wanted to protect us from. What was it, exactly?" I asked. I was somewhat afraid of the answer I might receive. All of the information I had gathered that day was beginning to settle in, weighing down and cutting into my heart, into my mind, like stones, knives and thick, black ink. Bryan gulped, clearly taken by surprise and unsure of how to answer me. "Killing. Midge told me that her boss was considering having some of the more rebellious patients removed... Patients like you." I shivered. "It's so hard to believe that everything I ever knew was taken away from me, and now, now it's happening again. It isn't fair." I felt stupid for ranting to Bryan, but his sudden sympathy only made me want to say more.

"I know what you mean. And you're right, it isn't fair. But there's nothing we can do to change the past... All we can do is try to change the future. Which is why we're running away." I tried to imagine being out of here and back to civilization. I tried to imagine being out in the open where we were free and could do as we wished. But I knew too little of civilization, had forgotten too much, to picture it. And when we did leave, if we did leave, we would never truly be free, nor would we feel as if we were. We would always be prisoners. Always. "How are we going to do this?" I asked. My voice was beginning to falter. "How are we going to make it out of here, and save everyone, and not get caught? How can we do any of this?" "I feel just as lost as you. Midge has explained everything to me in detail more times than I can count, but no matter how many times she does, I feel like I'm going to mess everything up," Bryan admitted sullenly. "Maybe when we discover our powers people will be afraid of us and leave us alone," I said. "I'll tell you this right now; when we discover them, we can't ever use them. Not unless our lives depend on it. Yes, normal citizens will be afraid. But the authorities aren't going to hold back once we discover them. They won't hesitate to have us locked away forever... Or worse yet--killed." I trained my eyes on one spot of the carpet to stop the world from spinning. With every second that passed and every word Bryan said, gravity pushed down a little harder. It was only a matter of time until it succeeded in its attempts to crush me. *** Midge entered the meeting room swiftly, combing her fingers through her hair as she walked. James had sounded very serious; any delay might make him suspicious. When she stepped through the doorway, she was surprised to see not only James at the table, but another man that she recognized instantly. It was the way he kept his medium brown hair tied back and his dark blue suit that gave it away; this was Andrew Gerdman. Midge took a seat at the end of the table near him. She tried to conceal her nervousness as she approached him. Andrew was the head of the SMRF. After Robert Scham had decided to retire and run off to live on his own, Andrew had immediately taken his position, completely altering the very purpose of this organization. The amount of power he possessed was frightening; he kept everything under the palm of his hands, at his control. All he had to do was say the word, and he could erase anyone or anything from existence with his political status and his money.

"Andrew Gerdman, it's a pleasure to see you here," Midge said politely, sounding very surprised. He smiled pleasantly. "This is an urgent situation; I come when I am needed," he replied. Though his lips were curved up into a smile, his voice was solemn, which made it clear to her that he was serious about this. Her muscles tightened. "Well," he began. "James, here, has told me that your patient--Lacey, if I'm not mistaken-disappeared from her room this morning." "Yes, she did. We're not sure where she possibly could have gone off to," Midge replied calmly, hoping that her voice wouldn't break and give her away. "I am terribly sorry about this, sir. I'm not sure why or how she managed an escape like this. She-"No need to trouble yourself, Ms. Lattering, these things happen on occasion. And when they do happen, it's not difficult at all for us to settle things. I just need you to answer a few questions." "Let's go back to Lacey's childhood... Was she ever a rebellious child?" "No," Midge lied. "She was always calm, always quiet, obedient." Andrew frowned. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, and Midge wondered if she had taken it too far. "At least with you, she was," James interrupted half-jokingly. Midge silently begged him to close his mouth and keep it shut for the rest of the meeting. Andrew turned to James with a look of interest. "Oh, really?" he said. "So she was a little rebellious. How so?" "I counseled her for a little while when she first arrived. For the first month or so of being her, she would overload me with questions when I came to speak with her, as if it were her job and not mine." James chuckled and Andrew joined in, but only for a second. Then he became serious again. "I'm afraid that isn't quite what I meant. Thank you, though, James." He turned to face Midge once again. He cleared his throat. "Well, then. If she was never a rebellious child, why do you propose she would have decided to run off?" "I don't know," Midge replied, realizing that by lying, she had walked herself into a trap. How could I have ruined this so quickly? she thought. "I would like to point out that Lacey left her room at approximately 10:30 AM, during which time, our security cameras had stopped working. I find it--suspicious--that she

should go missing at this exact moment." He was beginning to close in. Midge felt her heart freeze and hands tremble. "Wasn't her door locked?" James asked. Midge was surprised by how clueless he was acting right then. "I believe that was Mike's fault. He's a newbie, isn't he? And was it not your job to go through the rules with him?" James looked startled. He was about to answer when Andrew turned back to Midge suddenly. "Which reminds me," he continued. "Mike said that Lacey complained that her shower was broken. As he was trying to repair it, he decided to clean the drain, and found several large clumps of wet newspaper inside of it. Have you any idea how she obtained this paper?" "No, sir." "Then she must have had help. Do you not agree?" It was then that it clicked in her mind. She knew that they knew. And what they knew was the truth, that she had been helping Lacey all along. They had set her up. They were testing her. All in that moment, everything became clear. Andrew had the inexplicable ability to ease tension in any conversation. Midge knew that he used this strategy to catch people off guard. Like a predator, he would sit back in the shadows and watch calmly from a distance, waiting for the right moment to jump out and strike his prey. Worse yet, there was no telling when he would decide to strike. Midge took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Now she had been cornered, and this was her last chance to run. But Andrew was too quick; he would catch her if she did. "Mr. Gerdman," she said sternly. "Do you believe that I am behind Lacey's escape?" A cold, cruel smile formed on his thin lips. "It would certainly seem that way, Ms. Lattering," he replied. Searching desperately for words to defend herself, Midge blurted the first words that came to mind. It was useless to turn back now. "How dare you accuse me of something like this! The sheer fact that I happen to be Lacey's counselor does not, in any way, mean that I was responsible for her running away. And although some of the evidence does point toward me, you have absolutely no right to accuse me of anything without proof." "But we have proof, Midge. It's written all over your face. And the results from the lie detectors that we use during monthly interviews."

She rose from her seat, her heart racing and ears roaring as she realized that this was the end. “The SMRF is not the same SMRF that I joined ten years ago! I don't care what either of you say, we are not killing anyone. These children have done no wrong!" She jabbed her finger at Andrew's face. "You disgust me. Murderer. I will put an end to this now, if it's the last thing I do, and there is nothing either of you can do to stop me!" Midge's shouts resonated against the walls. A hollow, empty feeling settled over them. Midge slowly lowered herself into her seat, expecting Andrew to leap onto her. But he remained calm, sitting with his hands on his lap and his head held high. "On the contrary," he objected, shattering the quiet atmosphere. "We can stop you." "I'd like to see you try." Andrew smiled again. "Come on in, boys!" he shouted. The door squeaked open. Two large men in black uniforms sauntered into the room, eyeing Midge carefully. "You see, Ms. Lattering; things can get very ugly in this sort of situation. That is why I always come prepared." *** "So, the only thing people really care about is money?" I asked in astonishment. For the last thirty minutes, Bryan had been explaining the different attributes of society to me, specifically, business and economics. Bryan started to answer. Suddenly, there was the sound of something pounding up against the front door. I jumped, startled. Bryan jerked his head toward the bedroom door and listened intently. Someone was shouting from the hallway. Even through two sets of doors, Bryan and I both could guess that it wasn't Midge. "Shit. They’re here," he hissed under his breath. He swiftly scrambled to his feet, gave me his hand, and pulled me up. "We have to get out of here, to the bathroom," he instructed. To our advantage, there was a bathroom door right between Midge's book case and drawer. Bryan sprinted over to it and pushed it open as silently as he could, then ran inside while I followed a few steps behind. Bryan locked the door and shoved me into the shower. He managed to squeeze himself in and pulled the curtain closed. But even then, we could still be seen through the cracks; this shower was designed for only one person. "We're going to have to stand, back-to-back, and get as close together as possible, okay?" he instructed. I nodded and followed his instructions. I was too afraid to do anything else.

For a short while, the only audible sound was of our breathing, which we tried to make as silent as possible. I could feel Bryan shaking as he stood. I squeezed my eyes shut. There was an explosive sound from the living room as the door burst open, then the sound of footsteps. "Come out now! I know you're in here!" a man grunted. I stiffened and tried not to breath as they marched into Midge's bedroom, then proceeded into the bathroom. "There's no where for them to hide in here," one of them muttered. The other made a snapping sound in response. "They can't be anywhere else." A hush fell over the room. No one spoke. No one breathed. As Bryan and I had turned ourselves around, my legs had been entangled with his. I had been holding my knee in the same stiff position for nearly three minutes, the pain growing with every few seconds. My knee suddenly buckled as my muscles started screaming. My foot slipped out from underneath me, causing me to slip and bang my elbow against the wall. The curtain was yanked open. The two men, who wore padded, black uniforms, glared at us. One of them grabbed me by the arm and pulled me from the shower like a lifeless toy. Bryan could only watch them in frozen horror. I made a run for it. Immediately, the blonde-haired guard to my left stepped back to block my exit. He delivered a blow to my abdomen that made the air explode from my lungs and my stomach cramp and twist. Bryan stumbled out of the shower seconds after me. He tried to run to the other door, but the man on his side took hold of his shoulders and tried to restrain him. Bryan kicked and struggled furiously. Suddenly, he slipped from the man's tight grasp. His head connected with the porcelain sink with a sickening crack. He slumped to the floor. Both the other man and I had been distracted by the scene. I jumped back to reality and threw the door open. The man spun around and started to chase after me. My ears were roaring. There was nowhere to go. One moment I was running. The next thing I knew, the man's arm crashed into my chest from behind and squeezed me up against him. I let out a cry of surprise and horror as a hand holding a damp cloth clamped over my mouth, making it nearly impossible to breathe. When I inhaled, sweet chemicals flooded my mouth. I coughed them out, and choked them in again. My head throbbed dully. A loud buzzing sound from an unknown source rang in my ears. No matter how I tried to hold by breath, the nauseating sweetness continued to choke me. I began to float. Colors became distorted. The room began to spin. Then, there was black ink. Nothing but black ink. ***

I opened my eyes. The moment I did, pain shot through my head. I shut them quickly, waiting for the pain to dissipate. I noticed that the surface beneath me was not soft and smooth like my bed, but hard, rough, cold, and uncomfortable like stone. "Where am I?" I murmured weakly. I made an attempt to sit up. Every movement brought more pain to my head. My supporting arm wobbled, threatening to give way. All I could see was sheer blackness. Am I blind? I thought. Then the day's events came rolling back into my head tumultuously, only adding to the forming migraine. Panic took hold of me. I rose to my feet, ignoring the burst of agony. Even in the total darkness, I could see the outline of a door against a wall. I stumbled on stiff legs across the room and leaned my full weight against it. "Let me out," I groaned. "Let me out now!" Of course, no one answered. I balled my hands into fists and pounded them against the metal and said it, much louder. I continued to scream for what seemed like an eternity until my hands were sore and scraped. Finally, I sank to the floor in defeat and held my throbbing head in my throbbing hands. I was trapped, and Midge and Bryan probably were too. And it was all my fault. Everything.