The Captured: Magic is Born (IC)

Can you remember your first nightmare? The very first time you woke up shivering and crying and calling out for comfort from anyone who would listen. The way your heart beat furiously in your chest and how dry your mouth was when you really needed to scream. Do you remember the way your body shook and how sweat covered your skin like a thin sheet of fear? That feeling of cold dread that no one would come to your aid until miraculously someone comes to your aid and soothes you better. I remember, I remember it quite distinctly. I had dreamed that someone was trying to kill my best friend and that I was powerless to stop them. My mother had come running in to the sound of my sobs and had comforted me for nearly an hour until I had settled enough to fall back asleep. I only remember this because it was the first and the last time I was comforted after a nightmare; the first and the last time I was soothed until my fright had gone away. The very first and very last time I'd been hugged because I was scared.

When I'd been captured at first I didn't know how to react. Kids all around me were crying and weeping and begging for someone to help them with their nightmares. I'd wondered why no one would hold them and tell them it'd be alright. I'd wanted to do it myself because their pain was starting to become my pain. The pain hurt, it tore at my heart and I started to have nightmares again. Horrible nightmares full of vicious people who wanted to hurt me and laugh at me and enjoy my suffering.

Words cannot even begin to explain the absolute atrocities that happened there; they cannot begin to express it. The sounds of abuse and the smell of fear and death. The screams and pleas and tears. The sight of children curled up and speaking to themselves as if they'd finally truly lost every once of their sanity to the walls of their cells. I don't even know how I'd managed to keep a grip on myself, don't know how I'd kept hold of the small amount of sanity I had left.

Then they started to pull the others from their cages. They would go kicking and screaming and begging with tears dripping down their faces. I would watch from my trapped place in my own cell and in me their pain ignited some sort of fire. I'd refused to become one of them, refused to lose everything that made me, me and turn into some kicking screaming shell of myself. That was when I started to practice my apathy; started to not care about anything. Without emotions tampering there was no need to fear and no need to be scared of them. I just started to feel nothing, even when they beat me. I'd put pain in it's place; it was leashed and tamed.

When they finally took me I knew I'd shocked them by my absolutely calm demeanor. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of my pain, of my suffering, of my absolute loneliness. I was waiting for them to bring me to some sort of dungeon and just do away with me; it already felt like they were trying to rid themselves of me slowly. The constant beatings had wormed the idea into my head; that along with the fear of hands on my skin. Anytime anything touched me I would wince and feel my heart stutter in my chest. Spiders were doing the same thing; the damn eight legged bastards. Yet they brought me to a lab that my mind easily calculated as very expensive and very important. There were men in white shuffling around and one of the guards who had brought me lifted me onto a table. I'd nearly spazzed from the contact and only settled down when they strapped me to the table. I watched as one of the doctors in angels clothing came to me with a needle; at least I'd go painlessly I'd thought.

How wrong was I?

Jaymie let out a soft groan and rolled over in his bed; sleep trying to drag him back down into the land of dreams; awake trying to drag him back into the land of reality. He settled for just laying in his bed and letting his body struggle to decide which side of the line it wanted to cross over. His head was pounding violently with the battle and he secretly wished one side would win over the other just so the pain would stop. It happened every single morning; he would lie there half asleep and half awake and suffer through turmoil as his body tried to either wake up or shut down. Jaymie couldn't even consciously decide because he couldn't decide which side he really wanted to win; his apathy affected every aspect of his life.

Eventually he sat up and rubbed tiredly at his eyes to rub the sleep away from them. He blinked a few times as he yawned and stretched, enjoying the feeling of his tense muscles loosening after his sleep. The nineteen year old looked around his immaculate bedroom with no expression on his face. His aqua eyes landed on his bedside clock and he read the small red numbers. 6:00 He yawned again and flung the covers away from his legs. Jaymie stared down at his lap for a moment lost in thought until a sharp buzzing pierced the silence. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and picked up his cell phone from next to his clock. You've got to get here earlier. Your shift starts at 7:30 today. Jaymie sighed and sent a quick reply before sliding off his bed.

The young man dragged himself down the hall into his bathroom and flicked on the lights; he didn't bother wince at the change in lighting. He rested his hands on the edge of the counter and leaned his torso over the sink slightly to examine his reflection in the mirror. It didn't change at all every time he looked at it but he could feel himself changing somewhere. His mind seemed to be working a lot faster than normal and he was finding himself zoning out more and more. "Just ignore it Jay," he muttered to himself as he pushed away from the counter and got himself into the shower. The scalding hot water soothed him and released him from his usual morning struggles. He found he couldn't bathe in just warm water; it had to be hot, hot enough to redden his skin. It was the only way he could bathe after he had escaped the facility.

Jaymie stepped out of the shower with steam rolling off his light red skin and began his normal bathroom routine. Fix hair, brush teeth and do anything else that needs tending to. He walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his thin, girly hips and made his way back to his bedroom. Quickly he pulled on a long sleeve white button-up shirt and a pair of black 'skinny' jeans over his boxers. After a quick fix up of his hair again he checked the time. 7:00 He had just enough time to get breakfast and make it to the office.

Paradise. I had never knew how close I was to it until it was gone. I doubt anyone would consider what I had paradise, but no one else is me. A few good friends, loving and well off family, a great school and grades. Some would think they had it all. I sure didn't give it any thought. I regret that from time to time.

I lost that Paradise the day the van came. I remember, with an almost clarity at times, the hopelessness around me. People cried, screamed and raged at times as well. There were those stronger then others that did what they could to keep the rest of them sane. I reacted, some would say, badly. I found a corner and just tried to hide from it all. Little sleep came, and when it did come it didn't last for long. I had been innocent until the kidnapping happened, and I won't try and disillusion myself there. It was kidnapping, and I had been innocent. Others, well, I don't remember them too clearly. I can never describe how I felt, words do not do it justice. Despair, fright, anger in a way, everything that could be a negative feeling was mixed together. No hope, no happiness, no dreams. Only one long nightmare, both in sleep and in reality.

The dark, it was always there. Not the kind that you cannot see in, but that kind that is just dark enough that you can see others, but sort of not. It is hard to explain, but it is, by far, the most terrifying darkness you can imagine. I had been afraid of the dark before then, but at that time? I am surprised I was not paralyzed with fear. It was the worse thing I could imagine, at least in the mundane fears. I can imagine far worse now. I think many of us there can, because it wasn't made up.

Clean clothes, hot showers, warm food. I took it all for granted. None of it existed in that cell. Never saw clean clothing or a shower once, the food was barely edible. And it was hardly enough for the amount of people I remember. There were those, they had kind hearts that hadn't fractured or broken, that had helped others in any way necessary. Gave up food, talked, was just there for them. They became skeletal mockeries of who they had been. The ill, the dying, and the men continued not to care, or not show the care. I never though man could be so cold until then. I learned fast. They beat, they forced work, they did whatever they pleased for whatever reasons, if any. Some of us died, others were on the brink, and some of those deaths were from those who had the ability to survive. They had given up.

I still do not know why I hadn't given up. If there had been a light in the tunnel, no one could see it in that darkness. I think I survived because of the death of my care. I do not remember during those times, but I do remember I just blanked out. I know things happened, I woke up having eaten or having been beaten. Someone had helped, someone had hurt. The one surprised, the other didn't. Why didn't we try and escape? How. We had no idea what to do, where to go, or where we even were. For all we knew, the country wasn't the one we had grown up in.

Eventually I was taken out. I had become numb to everything again. I was escorted to some lab. A real one as well, not one that they passed off as one just to beat and work us again. I do not know why they worked us, we were in no condition to do so. But I remember being in the lab, strapped to a table and partially undressed. They stuck a syringe into my arm, and whatever was in there sent me into unconciousness yet again. That realm where they could do me no physical harm I could feel. The only dark I did not fear.

----------

The alarm began beeping at him, softly at first as was its design. Then louder, once it hit that point that it recognized it had not been turned off. Jericho groaned, hand hitting the snooze button and sitting up. Another dreamless night, another eerie feeling that crept through his bones. This had been going on for the past week or so, and he dared not see a doctor. After what he had been through, he didn't want to trust anyone in a lab coat again. His adopted parents had wanted to do so, but since he was technically eighteen years old, they had no real say in the matter. He didn't want to get up, but the alarm was set unusually early for a reason. Why? He was having trouble remembering, but at least the dawn was peeking through his curtains by now. At least he assumed so. Glancing at the time, he raised an eyebrow. Five AM? He didn't think the sun rose that early this time of year, then he remembered his room was level with a street lamp, and smirked to himself. Forgot about that completely.

Sitting there, he grabbed his sketch book. There was bound to be a note in there somewhere as to why he was up so early. Opening it, he found a sticky note. 'Open the curtains and sketch the sunrise.' No wonder he had gotten up before the sun rose, he wanted that in his sketch book for once. Without referencing pictures on the internet or in books of various art styles. Opening the curtain, he was still in a pair of pajama pants, though he was wearing a tanktop rather then the matching top. Too warm for that top. He also pulled up a chair he had in the room when he didn't want to sit on the bed for whatever reason. The streetlight flickered out, and Jericho had his pencil at the ready. One of the few things he could really do that could be completely private was draw like this. He was found of the park, sitting on a bench and just sketching whatever was there today. Though he was wary of any vans that came by. But now? He was watching the sun and was ready to catch its glory for this day.

Soon enough, the light began to peak over the horizon, and he already had his pencil working the hills that framed the globe of light. Once the sun had hit that perfect spot in his eyes, he began sketching the lines and flows that it marked on the land. As soon as he had them down he had the Oil Pastel crayons in hand, working the colors in while they were before him, and near the end of the work fresh in memory. No two sunrises were the same, so he didn't want to substitute one for another. The colors were flowing well, he was in that frame of mind again. The sun had that glow to it that certain mornings had, that haloed the rest of the land well. And it wasn't bright to the point of being unable to look at yet. The perfect drawing time. Eventually the sun was finished, and he began on the land around it, paying mind to the details as best he could. He never had formal lessons, but he loved to draw and work art. It took time, but the pastel was done and his picture was wrapped up. It had taken a good several hours, being Eight in the morning by now. But it had been worth it, and he turned the chair, spotting a duffel bag open. A pain hit his stomach as he remembered his real intentions of getting up early.

Jericho felt it was time for him to leave. He had done plenty of odd jobs here and there, enough to afford bus fare and to survive until he found some job in a farther back end of the country. He could live on the road, doing second hand jobs and selling art at various artshows and flea markets. but that feeling in his bones had driven him to this, that he felt it so necessary to get moving. And he didn't like being as close to where It happened then he already was. Part of why he made the picture, a farewell card of sorts. People could call it a urge to roam and find something to attach to, a cause of sorts. He didn't know why, he just felt that this feeling was more then just that. The time in the labs had him worried that he was dangerous, and the faster he got away from here the better. Packing the oil pastels away and seeing spare clothes and other necessaties already there, he went about his morning routine. First he walked into the bathroom, relieving himself as such first and foremost. Next, he brushed his teeth and threw in a quick shower, combing his hear to an extent after getting out and dryingoff. Those items done, he began getting dressed. First, a clean white tanktop, tossing the one he wore to sleep into the hamper. Next was the PJ pants and old underwear, a clean pair of boxers and a older pair of trousers he had worn in and found more comfortable then the rest of his clothing. A plaid overshirt and he was dressed. Wait! He grabbed the iron cross and hung in around his neck, and pulled his shoes on, tying them so the laces didn't get in the way.

Zipping the duffel bag up, he slipped downstairs and set it by the door, walking to the kitchen to have the last dinner with the elder couple. Mr and Mrs. Kreios. They were, some would say, the nicest people you could find. They were, in a way. They had gladly taken him in and provided him with someplace to eat and rest as he did the various odd jobs and wrapped up an accellerated high school program. He was trying his best, and the two supported him whenever possible. Mrs. Kreios smiled, having just finished the late breakfast for him. He had a habit of sleeping in after alll. "Good morning dear, scrambled eggs sound good?" Jericho smiled slightly and nodded, sitting down at the table. "Thank you that sounds fine Mrs. Kreios. Good morning Sir." He referred to the older man as sir, he was a veteran, though he wouldn't say of what war if any. He had been in the Army, from what he saw of medals and uniforms. Mr. Kreios nodded to the young man, and resumed reading the morning paper and sipping his coffee. The food was set out and they all paused to say Grace, then began eating. Jericho was quiet as usual, and finished eating first, also as usual. He stood, excusing himself with his prepared reason. "Heading to the park today. Don't have any work so I'll spend time there." Mrs. Kreios nodded, handing him a bagged lunch she had prepared for whenever he did this. They would not think it odd until he wasn't home after dark, and would check his room to see if they had missed him. "Take care dear, if it looks like rain come home straight away!"

Jericho nodded, walking to the door and picking up his duffel bag, and was half way down the driveway when he heard Mr. Kreios. "So, finally ready to head on your own Mr. Walker?" Jericho turned, seeing him standing there with a familiar look on his face. Jericho nodded, and the older man chuckled, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thought so, the wife found the note and picture you left. We understand that, thats how we met. I had just left service and she was a roamer. You don't have to thank us for taking you in, your our son in every way that matters. If you ever need somewhere to rest, come back here. We'll always be open to you." Jericho smiled, catching the old man in a hug and suppresing that feeling to cry. "Thank you. I'll remember both of you fondly and, if I can, I'll try and visit." With that, he headed to the park, needing somewhere to just calm down and sketch more. So he found a bench, sitting down and taking out the sketch book, and started drawing.

He was back in his cell again. He had almost helped somebody today, it had wrenched his heart when he saw the little girl wake and start screaming for her pet cat. As always though she was soon silenced. The cell was just lit enough so you could see the grime on the others faces, who worn out they looked. He sighed and without realising it he said, “Why did they have to do this?” I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands, but already two men were entering and walking purposefully at me. I quickly relaxed my body and detached myself from my body. I couldn’t feel the pain of their rough grip as they dragged me out of the cell and down a pristine white hall way. I watched them put my body down on a operating table and take a needle with a green substance in it and plunge it in my body, I actually felt the pain that time, it was a pain directed to dull the synapses in my brain, I slowly felt my vision fading and it felt like I was… falling?

I jerked awake with a start and instantly twisted myself catlike so my feet were facing downwards. I stretched my hands out and felt for a branch as my eyes slowly began to comprehend the fact that I was falling down the side of the tree. With a loud thump my feet connected with a big branch. I sunk to my knees to absorb the shock, but it still hurt. A lot, “Ow ow owwww,” I cried out.
Swiftly I looked down to make sure no one had heard me cry out. Thankfully no one was around. I grumbled, “Oh well, since I’m up I may as well get some food.” I sighed and clambered down the last 20ft to the ground. I looked at my watch and saw that it was just about 7:00. “Good not too many people around at this hour,” I thought to myself.

I went to the back of the nearby diner and saw that the Teresa had already arrived. She was really, she understood that I was young and should be in a home with someone providing for me, but I wanted to live by myself and just needed to be fed. I walked up to the back door and knocked. Teresa looked up and saw me standing at the door. I smiled at her as she came to the door and let me in. As soon as I entered I smelt the delicious aroma of pancakes and steak.
“Oh I love your cooking Aunty, and is that pancakes I smell. Oh you’re awesome!” I exclaimed. She laughed as she turned and went back into the kitchen replying, “I know that’s why I cooked it.”
I ran into the kitchen behind her and sat down at the table. Immediately digging into the delicious meal she had prepared for me. She left the room once she saw I was eating and came back a few minutes later with her hands behind her back. “OK, from now on these meals come with a price,” she told me. My mouth dropped in shock, but before I could say anything she brought her hands out from behind her back and said, “You must go to school. I’ve already told the principal that you will be attending, so don’t even think of pretending you went.” I groaned, “Do I have to?” I pleaded at her, “C’mon, schools boring.”
“No it isn’t and it will get you a good job, so you can earn money. Now run along and put this uniform on,” she commanded.
I sighed and did as she demanded.
I was getting bored after all just lying around the park with nothing to do anyways. I watched her bustle around for a while getting the diner ready to open. At 8:00 I watched as the pretty waitress came into the diner to start serving the customers arriving. I was mesmerised as she seemed to be she and kinda outgoing at the same time. I suddenly looked at my watch and realised it was 8:20 I’d be late for school if I didn’t hurry.
“See you Aunty,” I called to her. I loped down the street to where the school was and settled my self for a boring day of listening to teachers drone on and on about the same old boring thing.

Love. How it is idolised in our world, every book you pick up, every movie you see, every time you switch on the TV it is there. Humanity is in love with love. Every form is revered, a parents love, the love of a man and a woman, the love of friendship, the love of your country, oh how we bow down to it's power.

Yet why do we never acknowledge how harmful it can be? I've seen what a love of drugs can do to people, twisting them to shades of humanity leaving them wretched and vile, married to their addiction. Almost always they are married till death do them part.

Perhaps I'm just cynical, what would I know of love? I have never felt it, no one has loved me. I have never felt the loving hand of a mother caress my cheek, the gruff affection of a father as he hugs his daughter. No, love is a treasure that has I have been denied. I'll never forgive my parents; the day they sold me to those bastards was the day they died as far as I'm concerned. I hope there dead, or their life is so miserable they would be better off so.

Yet it was not love that got me through that time in the cells, it was cold hard ruthlessness. I bullied the weak and sick, stole their food and blankets, blamed others to take my beatings, bribe bigger kids to have them firmly in my loyalty and lied to those fools who tried to help the weak and ill, I took advantage of their charity. Yet even for all my tactics I knew I could not avoid the injections. Every one needed to have them; it was I suppose our purpose there. I never resisted, it was futile, the scientists always won. The injections hurt, but they were over quickly, and I was led back to the filthy, decadent cells.

When the whisperings of a rebellion began I knew this was my chance of escape. I helped change the disorganized idealists into people that had a chance, Got the tough kids on their side, and the ones so far gone they didn't think twice before killing. It had been a hard fight, and somewhere in the chaos I killed a guard. I can still recall perfectly the thick heavy blood running down his face from the newly created crater at the back of his skull, blood's smell of smell of wet tin, and the cold empty eyes staring lifelessly into oblivion.

Yet I feel nothing when I remember it, no guilt, no shame and no regret. Why? Am I so devoid of love that I know longer care for humanity? Am I a monster?

I do not know, but I do know that I am free, and I will never be imprisoned again. I did not fight so hard to free myself from that place just so I can walk back into another prison. Whether that is a prison of a cell, the addiction of drugs or another of countless vices.

Or even love. For that is the greatest prison of them all.

Beth's eyes snapped open, sunlight glared harshly at her from the Motel room window. She blinked once or twice, and then slowly got up, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She had slept in her clothes, so there was no need to get dressed. Sadly there was no shower in this motel, so she would have to endure the less than fresh smell that hung around her until she could find a local swimming pool. If this town had one of course, she had only been here since yesterday and if not, well she had smelt worst in her time.

Feeling the morning pangs of hunger begin Beth decided that it was time to procure some breakfast.After picking up her backpack she walked out the cheap motel room into the sunny day outside. Walking down the street she scanned the people walking there, looking for her ticket to breakfast.

Spotting her target, a young man she made her move. Walking slightly faster than normal she walked right into him, colliding forcefully. Smoothly and quickly she reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, and then seamlessly placed it in her own.

"I'm so sorry" she gasped, placing her hand to her mouth, the perfect picture of apologetic innocence. As she excused herself she walked quickly away, happy at the reassuring weight in her pocket, and scouting for a good place to eat.

Hate the sin, not the sinner. Hate the sin, not the sinner. Hate the sin, not the sinner. ...Hate the hunger. Hate the pain. Hate the tears. Hate the dark. Hate the fears. Hate the capture. Hate all that they put you through. Just don't hate them. Don't hate them even though they tortured you and ripped you of your childhood. Don't hate the bad people. Let them hate you. Because you're the good person, even though being good wasn't such a "good thing" in that cell. You never heard the word good. Just sounds and cries...and screams...if those were to be considered words...they were not good.

She remembers it, of all things, she remembers this. Not her name, her family, her house, or even her birthday. She just remembers how they grabbed her that day. There was so much dark, so much. The awful odor that came with upcoming presence of the encaged Hell. How it was so impossibly filthy when she woke up. The sight of all the kids: some dead, some the walking dead, some drowned in their own tears. She remembers it all. After five years how could you forget? You'd be blessed but such word didn't exist in that prison for five years. Even though some still believed. It didn't exist until they escaped. But sometimes...it doesn't even feel like a blessing.

Another memory, which she wish she lacked, is the pain on her cheeks. From crying continuously, the way it burned her eyes and only made her cry more. The restless nights when your lullaby was a kid in the corner rocking himself back and forth while singing,"Don't die. Don't die. Don't die. Mommy's going to come. You'll see. You'll see." Sometimes crazier things.

She remembers that dreadful day when she was pulled out. So many sinners had to take her, she was just wild. Ballistic. The light stung her eyes, it was blinding. Before they even put her on the strapped chair they had to sedate her. Of course there was probably more to it than that. She couldn't move a limb. She tried but she couldn't. The most she could do was shake. They put a cloth in her mouth so she wouldn't swallow her tongue, so she would just shut up. She couldn't see past the light and the tears. She remembers going through this again and again, nothing seemed to go right in that lab. But that last day she went, before the big battle, it had finally worked. Just when everything seemed like it couldn't get worse...it had. It worked but it seemed like it had done the exact. It seemed like it had just caused more Hell.

It did.




Micah didn’t wake up. She didn’t sleep last night, the many times she doesn’t. Whenever she slept she’d hear voices that were not her own. She kept this a secret of her own, her therapist didn’t know about it. Or the strange gut-feeling she’s been getting every now and then. Before turning around to see what time it was she already had it planted in her mind: 6:00 AM. Unfortunately, she was right. This was about the time Lola and Bert woke up. Her bed was already made but she hadn’t taken a shower. She had just been playing Sudoku, Kin Kin, and all the other mind games the entire night but currently she was just sitting on her window seat looking outside as if in a trance. Her nails clicking against each other and her leg bouncing up, down, up, down. Her meds were in the medicine cabinet in her bathroom but she was tired of taking them even though she probably needed them right now. She couldn’t tolerate long amounts of silence or being alone for too long or being in one spot for a very long time. Her mind had been occupied for a few hours but now she was slowly beginning to lose it. Currently she was just singing some songs she knew to keep her calm; she needed to hear voices but voices that were her own. She waited and waited to hear the creak in the stairs, to let her know that one of them had woken up.

Finally: creaaak…

Micah had a feeling it was Lola. She was probably coming down to make some coffee. Micah pivoted to the side and got off the window seat so she could go and be with Lola. She had her thumb nail in her mouth and her body was slightly shaking while her eyes seemed to look from left to right. She opened the door which got Lola’s attention and a smile to her.

“Good morning, darling. What are you doing up so early?”

Micah walked and sat on one of the stools, tapping her hands in a rhythmic way. She looked around for a minute while Lola waited for her to respond. After a few minutes Lola called her name and Micah’s eyes shot towards her instantly. “Listen to me, hun. Did you-“

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m fine and I’m normal. I-I just like different things th-that’s all.” She began to shake her head and bite her nail again.

“Calm down. Calm down. Now look: I want you to go take your medicine and then take a shower and get dressed. You’ll feel a whole lot better. I promise.”

Micah stared at this woman for a moment until she finally removed herself and did as she was suggested. She took the medicine she needed and then hopped into the shower. There always had to be music and sounds while she took the shower or else she’d freak out. The water was cold at first but then she began to warm it up. Finally after getting out she dried off and combed her hair through. The mirror was foggy when she looked into it. The feeling came to her again, she just felt different. When she stepped out of the bathroom her room was cold but she soon adjusted.

Rummaging through her drawers and dressers she slipped on a pair of jeggings, a blue plaid skirt over top of it. For her shirt selection she wore a white collared shirt with a burgundy tie. She layered on top of that a vest whose neck line slopped down in a circular way, showing some of her tie. She packed her bag perfectly and slipped it onto her back. After slipping on some rain boots, though it probably wouldn’t rain today, she topped her head with a black beret.
Now she was ready.

Lola looked at her for a moment when she came out and then returned to what she was doing. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“I’m not hungry.” Lola sighed and then turned off the stove.

“Oh that’s all right. You can just relax for a little while. I’m going to go get dressed and then you and me can go to the library. How’s that sound?”

Micah nodded and went to sit on the couch. Instantly she started jittering her leg.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth all the money for that therapist…

More voices….

She closed her eyes and began talking to herself in a calm voice. She spoke like her therapist does sometimes. “How does this make you feel, Micah? It’s going to be all right. You know that, right? How about we count to ten and see if that makes things all better. This could be your imagination. We need to work on what’s real and what’s not.”

Real…and what’s not…real…and what’s not.” She repeated this over and over again until Lola came downstairs.

“Hun, you okay?” She had her big purse in her hands, digging out the keys. Micah stood up and followed her out the door. They went to the car and Micah saw a young woman walking her dog.

What a nice house…

She caught sight of Micah who was staring at her intensely.

Wow…I feel bad for her. Mom told me not to judge the mentally-handicapped…That poor woman. I hope she doesn’t do it alone. I know if I had a kid like that I would--

“Shut up! J-just shut up! Please! I'm fine! Leave me a-alone! Im fine.”

The dog started barking and the girl jogged away frightened. Lola turned and pulled Micah into the car. “What is wrong with you?”

Micah looked around her and then just stared out the front window of the car while Lola stared at her, awaiting an answer. “Lola, c-can we have a t-talk? A-An important talk.”

Lola’s face softened a bit but she tried to look stern. “Sure, hun. But I want to know what that was all about first.”

“I think I’m changing. Everything is different. I-I don’t feel the same. ”

“Oh…oh. Well, uh…You’re going through a thing called puberty. Everybody goes through it it’s completely normal. Is that why you didn’t want to take your medicine? Why you were saying how you were just like other people? Darling, everybody has to grow through it. Your body just changes that’s all.” She smiled. “You’re just fine.”

“So…am I supposed to be hearing voices in my head?”

Jaymie pulled his car into his reserved space outside of the building he worked at. He looked down at his watch as he turned off the ignition to stop the idling vehicle. 7:25.33 The nineteen year old winced at the fact that every number was was odd; not that he didn't like odd numbers. It had just always bothered him for some reason for the time to be all odd numbers when he checked it; he needed at least one even number in there. After his mini panic attack he quickly got out of his car and shut the door; they locked automatically upon his leaving. With a hand over his eyes he looked up at the newly constructed building and sighed; he didn't enjoy working here. But he wouldn't complain; at least he was doing something legally most couldn't do illegally. Jaymie was allowed to hack into people's computers.

Entering the building he flashed his ID at the receptionist and walked past the metal detector without setting it off. No one ever understood how he could it with his keys and his phone and even change in his backpack; he didn't understand it either. Jaymie nodded to several people who he passed and passed by the elevators to get to the stairs. He would never, for life of him, get on an elevator. The small space caused him to break down and triggered a panic attack that would lead him to heart failure. Jaymie refused to think of why that was; he wouldn't think of his life back then. He had a life now, he would only think of his now life.

The nineteen year old walked into his rather large office; he thought it too big for his simple job. He removed his coat and tossed it onto the spare plush leather chair that sat near the door and made way for his desk. Jaymie lifted an envelope on it and opened it to look at the cases he had to solve. Several names were listed on a sheet of paper along with their internet providers and their addresses; even e-mails and websites they made. It was all Jaymie needed to get into their computers and start searching for proof of the convictions that were attached to them above their names.

He sat down and turned on his single computer with it's three screens when someone walked into his office. Without lifting his eyes from his loading monitor Jaymie muttered, "Morning David." The teen opened his bag and pulled out his invisible lens glasses and slipped them onto his face. They gave him a more mature look, made him appear older than he really was. "Mornin' Jaymie. Good to see you got in on time. Just here to let you know you might have to work overtime today," David said in his gruff voice. Jaymie hmmed but gave no other indications of ever hearing the news. "You will be paid for it." The nineteen year old nodded and set to work with the first name on his list. He didn't react as David let out a huff and left the room; he really didn't care if he had to work longer. It would give him more of an excuse to not go home.

Vedette Hilary Leveen

Vee went aboyut her work. Keeping on an illuminating smile for everyone, and making small talk while she served food. She watched as Teresa's, her boss, boy left for school. She had seen him a few times in the diner before. He was a sweet kid. She believed his name was Edward. She always got a weird feeling when he was around, as if she'd seen him before... But she couldn't remember where. She decided that it was probably just her over analyzing things.

The Diner was really busy still. It was most popular for Teresa's pancakes, and people from all over the city came for a taste. Vee sat down on an empty stool and smiled at a customer, running a hand through her soft blonde hair. She yelled an order back to the kitchen and slid the paper with what the customer wanted onto the order rack. She sat for just a minute, took a deep breath, got up, and brushed herself off. She was starting to get a bad headache. They seemed to be happening a lot, and the nightmares from her past were worse than ever. Her headaches would last for days, then turned into stubborn migranes. Vee exhaled slowly, collecting herself, before walking towards another table. She smiled brightly and took their order. Hopefully she could make it through the day. She couldn't wait for her lunch break so she could read her book and calm down. She loved her job and the customers, but today has been messy. She dropped four glasses so far, and messed up two orders. That was out of the ordinary for her. Vee just blamed it on the headache and moved on.



Kaden Chuck Griffin

He didn't remember much after being knocked out. There was the back of the van, Matt moaning in pain, harsh yelling... It was like a bad high. He would black in and out, almost as of he was drunk. Now, he was inside of a dirty-smelly cell. He could barely move, his joints were screaming in pain. He was so disoriented. Where the fuck were they? What happened back at the park? Kaden had been lieing on the floor on his side blankly staring at the wall, when suddenly he heard Matt start to groan in pain again. Kaden had to get up and check him out. He couldn't just leave his buddy hanging. Despite his body's string protest, he slowly sat up. Finally, he was upright and saw Matt across the cell. Shit, that was far away. Kade looked down at his battered up body and grunted in frusteration.

"Fuck." He mumbled as he looked around at the other injured-passed out kids.

He forced himself up and limped over to Matt, "I'm coming buddy." He couldn't utter more then a gruff whisper.

When he reached his friend, Kaden collapsed on the ground next to him. Matt was bad. His eye was swollen shut, nose busted open, left arm broken, and bruises and blood all over. His body was a swirl of purple, blue, red. Kaden coughed, holding back his tears. Kaden didn't cry. He couldn't. He refused to. He moved a shaking arm to his friend, and gently patted him.

"It'll be okay Matt... I'm here, I know you can hear me... It's me Kaden, I'm here." He muttered.

Then, Matt coughed violently and flow came out of his mouth. Kaden's eyes widened and he started to get angry. This was his friend, nobody hurt Kaden's friends. Kaden swept Matt's bloodied hair from his face and told him to hold in there. He answered by coughing up blood again and groaning. Kaden's ears were filled with pain, the pain around him. The other kids were screaming, crying, moaning, or talking to themselves. What the shit was happening here? Anger built up in Kaden, he couldn't take it anymore. He forced himself up again and charged towards to well sealed door. He banged on it with all his might.

"Come in here you fuckers! Look what you've done! What the hell! Get your asses in here! Help my friend! Fuck you! FUCK YOU! Go burn in hell!" Kaden scream violently still banging on the door.

Suddenly, the door was harshly pushed open. Kaden fell to the ground, and he noticed some of the kids around him cower in fear or start screaming loudly. He wiped blood and sweat from his own face and said, "Fuck you."

A big man in a white suit came at him then and started beating the shit out of him, telling him to shut up. Kaden couldn't do much because of his wounds, and no doubt there would be more after this. There were three around him now, kicking him. The kids around him screamed and cried louder. Kaden tried to get up and fight back, but was kicked harshly back down. He managed to grab one man's leg and make him fall to the ground. This only angered them more and one punched Kaden in the face. The last thing he could remember was seeing them all walk out like nothing had happened. Then, the blackness took over again.

The silence seems to drag on for what seem like eternity. Lola didn't even respond, all she did was put her hands on the steering wheel and rest her head among them. Micah sat there, too, in silence which was a weakness of hers: Prolonged silenced. For a moment a small bird settled on the windshield of the car as if it were a tree branch. The time on Micah's watch read 6:30, the bus had not yet arrived around the corner. She thought of this because she got a strange feeling that Lola was determining on making her ride the bus to school, which she never did. The bus was a terrible experience for Micah. Having to share seats, the dirtiness and packed space. She shuddered from the thought. The little bird flew away and her attention focused back on Lola who wished Bert were here to do something, but he was not here. Not right now.

"Am I in trouble?" Her wide blue eyes searched for an answer in the stillness of the car. A slight breeze was heard but after that, nothing.

"Don't ignore me. I-I don't like it. Talk to me, please." It tore her to see Lola like this. She could sense the fear in her body. It was the same sensing she got when she was around other people, she was some kinf of disease. She made people scared of her and the feeling was terrible.

A sudden rush hit Micah's stomach. The silence was just too much to bear, she couldn't tolerate it any longer. The pitch in her voice rised an octave in urgency as she pleaded, beginning to panick. "Stop it! You know I don't like that!" The air around her seemed to lessen in supply as her hands began to shake on the seat and her heart began to race.

Lola didn't turn around. She simply said, "You're riding the bus. Go before you miss it." With a sullen face Micah slowly scooched over to the car door and grabbed the handle. There wasn't a hint of anger in her voice, but there were many, many feelings hidden behind those two sentences. She opened the door and slid her feet onto the path of the driveway. "Maybe you should try my medication. I think you're paranoid." With that she stepped out and closed the door behind her. On the way to the bus stop she took pictures with her camera, that feeling of change was getting to her again. When she got there she saw a dark looking boy standing there waiting as well. His wardrobe was basically all black and he had rings on his face. He wasn't unfamiliar as she's seen him stand there before, and sometimes around school. His name escaped her but she had a strong feeling that it started with an A. Her muscles tightened as she came closer, she got a strange feeling around him, a new feeling asides intimdation. She sat down on the unoccupied bench and pulled out of her bag a book of mind games and began working on them while she listened to her iPod and applied her stress relief to her wrist. Instantly, she began shaking her leg and biting clicking her nails together, the nervous expression on her face as always.

Jericho had gotten most of the trees by this point, though he wasn't doing perfectly with the sky. It just didn't seem to fit no matter what technique he approached it with, and had burned through many of the light lines that are used until he gets the right feel. The fact that the image changed with the arrival of another person gave him something to distract him. He barely even looked at her at first, finishing what he could with the part of the park he was drawing. The few cars he could spot parked were done first, they could move at any time and half finished sketches of vehicles in the picture wouldn't look good. He was using the work to distract himself for the time being, because he hadn't planned to well what he was intending to do. Finally he turned his attention to the person sitting under the tree, a girl around his age by the looks of it. Then again, he could never gauge people well, he wasn't one to exercise such things often. Her posture would work well with the drawing. He began with the line work, and just let his hand work from there while he let his mind drift elsewhere. Drawing was something he had learned to do, and it helped him relax and think straight. He needed to be able to do that with this recent turn of events. Leaving home, with no plans on where to go. That wasn't well thought out, even if he had a general idea, but he couldn't go back now.

He got that feeling in his bones, that strange feeling that had only kicked in recently. It wasn't normal or just a feeling that he was warning himself, like what people called a gut feeling. It felt different, more ground into the bone then just that. It wasn't right, it didn't feel right, and it had spooked him enough to leave. The feeling was the most concentrated in his arm, and he stopped writing to place a hand over that spot, eyes half closed and thinking. He had the briefest of flashbacks, the injection. It had entered that arm and before he had gone under, something had brushed against the bone. They had been overzealous, if that wasn't just him remembering improperly. He paled at that thought, and tried to remain logical, though that feeling of subtle panic had invaded his mind. Why was he remembering the events from years ago now? It had been so long since he had even thought of that, having done hisbest to move on with the scars he already had, and was now bringing all this back up? It didn't make sense at all. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning back and stopping his drawing, half dozing for a bit. Once he woke up, he would of wished many times over that he hadn't even began to attempt to doze off. It was not pretty what he got through that particular nap.

Jericho was back in the cells this time, and he was changing. Shadows, bones, other things kept trying to crawl up his arms and legs, cling to him and swallow him alive. He was in a panic, that combined pretty much everything he wished didn't exist. Darkness, capture, loss of anything he could of had. They had to of been watching, because he swore as he fought he had struggled against the shadows he had that feeling of being scanned. Eventually he was swallowed, and looking at his surroundings through that hazy shadow. It still freaked him as he struggled to tear away this creeping dark and bone. It felt wrong, like thousand of crawling creatures across his skin. And he was yelling incoherently now. Why him? Why was this happening? No response, nothing but this sentient dark and the bones of those that had died. Then it was all dark, and he snapped his head up, a cold sweat built up on his brow. He sighed, a shaky enough sound, softly. Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Why did that come up when it did? If his thoughts on the injections and wierd feeling had triggered it, he wanted to know why. So many unanswerable questions, and no one could prove who or what was even doing these experiments. No evidence. So they got away with it, and that was that. The survivors were given to society to do with as it saw fit. He could of walked away right away, but hadn't been in any condition to do so.

Well, was he now? The answer could potentially hurt, but he was going to face that later. He looked down at his sketch pad, eyes widening. He was writing in his sleep now? In the corner, in soft lines, was some writing in his hand. He squinted his eyes at it, and muttered to himself. "Shadow edge is double sided? What in the world does that mean..." He erased it and transferred it to another blank paper, one of his doodle pages really. He had split the book up into several sections. Places for him to think on paper, and draw nothing serious, and the ones he worked hard on to make them look professional and good. Shaking his head, he looked back to his drawing. Nothing else was changed, so he took to drawing the sky again. He was able to pull it off this time, so he forgot the half finished line work of the girl by the tree, he would go back to that once he was finished with the sky. Do what you can when it came to him, and he knew he probably wouldn't of been able to do anything with that line work now anyways. He tried to forget the daydream, but it wouldn't go away. That disturbed and worried him, that after this time things were coming back to haunt him. Why now, and why did it phase him more then dreams did before?

Jaymie's eyes never left the lighted screen as he typed down code after code on the keyboard. The light aqua hues flitted from one screen to another in a seemingly impossible rate as he absorbed the information being presented. His mind was quickly rearranging codes that were just numbers and letters into sensible sentences that he could comprehend. He reached up and tapped at one of the screens and a newer smaller window opened; it's page covered in merely numbers. Jaymie scanned over it and shot it down before he turned back to typing on the single keyboard before him.

The nineteen year old heard footsteps stop outside of his door. Not just one person but three. He shuddered as he was surrounded by feelings of nervousness and slight worry. For a brief instant he wanted nothing more than for them to leave him to his work. The second it was there it was replaced by his apathy and he no longer cared if they entered. Jaymie paused and lifted his eyes as the separate footsteps walked away from his door. As they left he caught a waft of confusion and muddled thought from the three. The young man shook it off.

He'd realized that had been happening a lot more. He would feel things rolling off people and catch vibes that he knew he wasn't supposed to be feeling. Jaymie would feel emotions he knew he didn't have, thoughts he knew weren't his and every so often he would react to it. He would feel something completely his own and suddenly the person's vibes changed and shifted according to what he wanted them to. It was causing him to have flashbacks that were dimly and ill lit but somehow important.

His watch beeped and he looked down at the object wrapped around his wrist. He remembered he'd skipped out on breakfast in order to get to work on time; he didn't remember setting his alarm. Jaymie shrugged and paused all the things on his computer before picking up his coat and heading out the door and down the stairs. The man didn't have time to go anywhere fancy for lunch; already a place flashed in his mind. "Hopefully they have good coffee," he muttered to himself as he walked out of the building towards his car.

Beth scrutinised the girl Vee's eyes deeply, looking for a hint of malice or deceit there, but could see none. Satisfied for now, she took the blonde's hand while she listened to her suggestion about meeting up.

"That would be great Vee, I'm new here and I'm just . . . so shy sometimes. Thanks, your really friendly." When the girl left Beth gave her a huge smile, but as the girls back slowly turned away it turned into a contemptuous sneer. God that girl gave out a desperate air of cheerfulness and good intentions so badly it made Beth want to to slap her.

Such people, in Beth's opinion needed to be taken advantage of as soon as possible so that they realise early on that such attitudes in life will not work. Beth was quite happy to be that person to teach them that lesson. When her food arrived she happily tucked in, ravenously consuming the meal with the intensity only those who are never sure of their next meal can achieve.

Soon finished, she began to make herself comfortable, sipping from the cup her coffee, occasionally glancing at the clock until Vee's time off.

It was dark, dreadful, and too familiar. There were screams for help, there were whimpers, but most of all there was shouting. A boy with brown or dirty blonde hair, she really couldn't tell, was shouting at them. As he shouted they beat him, causing him to eventually fall to the ground. She watched, as the boy spat at them, cursing to them over and over again. He had some nerve, but these were the sorts of things that would get you killed. They tended to keep the females around for amusement, but the males if given trouble they killed off in an instant. It then dawned on her. Why was she here? She had escaped, why was she here again? She looked around only to see different faces, the blonde from before, a boy almost beaten to death and unconcious, and several others huddled together. None of them she recognized, she knew them well enough to sketch pictures of them. She started walking over to the boy, whom immediately looked at her. Though oddly, the captors took no notice of her.

"You have to get out of here, you have to escape before they take you into the lab!" She got down on her knees feeling the dirty grime below, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "What you're doing right now, is going to get you killed." she said darkly. "Most of these people will die." Annabella sighed and watched as the captors walked away, listening to that laugh she hated, making her skin crawl. They slammed the cell shut, with her in it. What's happening... She got up and ran towards the cell bars and grabbed them, no not again...I can't be. "What the hell is going on!?" she shouted. She immediately turned to the boy. "There is a way out of here, I've escaped once five years ago..." Why was she here again? She didn't even remember getting kidnapped. She looked up at the little blonde girl from her dreams. Immediately, her head started pounding, she then barried her head in her hands.

It was in that instant that something happened. On her hands appeared shackles, shackles like everyone else. "No...no.." tears filled her eyes. How was this happening? She looked up at the boy with tears falling from her eyes. He was badly injured, the boy, was just staring at her. "Hello..?" Her headache got worse. It was then she head footsteps, they were coming back, the walked inside the cell. She looked up at them in horror. "Get the hell away from them!" she shouted.

"Noooo!" she shouted, opening her eyes. Once again, she was drenched in sweat. Her head was pounding and she was breathing heavily. She looked around, only to see the park. "A...a dream..?" She sighed and looked down at her hands. Shackles. There were shackles on her hands now, and tears falling from here eyes. Annabella started trembling with fear. "W-whats happening to me..!" she stood up and pinned herself backwards against the tree. What did they give us? Is the injection doing this? Think logically Annabella, they captured groups of kids, and experimented on them. "This is like some fucked up sci fi or horror film." she said to herself, looking down at the shackles. "How is that evne possible?" she looked around trying to see if someone had perhaps shackled her in her sleep.

She had seen a boy, but the girl from her dreams as well. "Whats going on...?" she asked herself, trying to pry th eshackles off of her sweaty palms. It wasn't working. "Fuck!" she shouted. She looked up to see a boy sitting on the bench ahead of her. He seems to be writing or drawing or something similar. Quickly she ran up to him. "Did you do this to me you twisted son of a bitch!?" she paused however, after she saw his face. It made her heart skip a beat. He looked familiar...so familiar in fact. No she could not forget that face. Even now, years later. Who could forget the face of the person that rescued them? She had piggy backed him leaving the cell, on the day of the escape, due to the fact she could no longer walk. "Jericho..." said in a soft voice, immediately putting her shackled hands to her sweaty pounding forhead. "Wait did you do this!?"

It was all so weird. The dreams, the same people all the time. She thought back to the injection, she had felt weird afterwards and she had felt weird now. It could be the only semi logical yet unbelievable explaination, she couldn't think of anything else. Heart racing, she sat down on the grass and tried to piece everything together.

Jericho finished drawing the black and white work for the sky, allowing himself a small smile at how it had turned out so far. It looked good, and the ground was also looking like it was pulling together as well. A shout caught his attention, and his head jerked up, looking for the source. No one was approaching him at the moment, and he couldn't see anyone struggling. He shook his head slightly, muttering to himself. "Am I hearing things now? Must be tired already..." He resumed sketching, working on the grass and the path that slid through it now, letting his mind work on that rather then the more serious and important issues he didn't necessarily want to face just yet. He had faced the harsh reality with others already, he just didn't want to again. He would have to before nightfall, because he didn't want to sleep on the bench before leaving town. That would not be a really fun way to spend a potential last night. He would much rather find a motel or just start travelling, but depending on whether he felt up to it or not, he wouldn't just leave right away.

Another shout, this time sounding like a curse. He looked up to see a girl in shackles run over and start yelling at him. He dropped his pencil out of shocked surprise, leaning back into the bench and answering the accusations. This just made him nervous. What was going on? "What? No, I didn't do anything to you, let alone shackle you..." And like that, it seemed that rage pulled back from her, and she uttered his name. Now this was just getting strange, and it kept him nervous. He was trying to see if he remembered anyone that looked like her and knew his name. He hadn't really met anyone that he talked with after being captured, so that meant it was possibly someone from during the capture? Even then, he had been withdrawn enough to not really talk with anyone. There had been those few that tried to help, but he was having trouble remembering it. He had tried hard to, if not outright forget that painful time, at least keep it from coming to the fore front of his mind easily. It had worked too, only one dream had really taken him back there at all.

"Yes, that's me. But..." Hold on, those shackles looked familiar. He went pale fast. Those he did remember, they were from the cell. When the accusing question came back, he shook his head, still leaning back and trying to figure out what was going on, and who this was. He was trying to place a face, but he just couldn't remember. This was making his head hurt like there was no tommorow, and that feeling in his bones was kicking up again. Ok, the fact alone that the past seemed to be kicking up again was eerie and spooked him enough, let alone the fact this girl that, despite having no clue who she was, he had a feeling he should remember, just made him confused. She collapsed on the ground, and he couldn't blame that. But those shackles had to come off, so he began thinking. He didn't know how to pick locks, and even if he did he doubted those were going to be lock picked. Otherwise someone would of figured it years ago and managed a break out much sooner. "Hang on, let me think, there's got to be a way to get those off."

When in doubt, fall back on rational. He had learned that quickly from his foster parents, they had shown him that no matter what the situation was he could still keep a level head. Picking the lock, unlikely. So was there a way to slide the shackles off? Her wrists didn't look thick, but she had probably tried that already. Think, Jericho, think! She was sweating, and that probably would help slide off with some additional help. Almost like a lubricant. That's it! He opened the duffel bag, digging through it while muttering. "Come on, there has to be something..." While he was digging, he glanced at her again, still unable to place a name or anything like that. Looking back down, he kept rummaging while he voiced his only question, keeping his voice calm and steady. If they both started panicking that would do nobody good. He had to keep a level head. "Did you try sliding them off, and how far did that get them if you did?" If she had, it would be at least worth the attempt if he could find what he was looking for. If she hadn't, then they could try that first.