I've been reduced to mumbling broken phrases in a mix of Russian and English, strapped into a straight jacket and collared like a dog. I no longer feel like a prisoner, but rather an animal. I find myself in a room about the size of a janitor's closet. It's completely white.

As the days drone on, I've vaguely been able to notice that I'm losing my mind. Not to mention weight. I remember reading articles on the inhumane nature of solitary confinement and how it affected a person. The articles just don't do the experience justice.

As for the issue of weight, it's not uncommon for the guards to come in every other day to tighten the straight jacket that continues to grow too large for me. It's not that they aren't feeding me, but it's rather that I refuse to eat. I'm given food twice a day but I have yet to touch a single plate. I'm too afraid. I'm terrified that if I try to eat, it'll be poisoned or there'll be sedatives in it. I'm so fearful that I'll fall unconscious and wake up on a medical table, being experimented on. I can't allow that to happen. I refuse to let that happen. I'm terrified that it will happen.

To make matters worse, I'm forced to wear the exact same electromagnetic collar I saw on Wanda. It's horrible for two reasons. One, I feel like I've been degraded to a dog. Two, there's the pain that comes with it. The collar sends high voltage electricity through the recipient when it detects the prisoner drawing on their abilities. It's meant to be so painful that the wearer will cease their activity. However, I'm unable to do so. Unlike Wanda, my brain patterns always show activity from my abilities, as they're part of me now. I don't just draw on them like Wanda does. My abilities are always working behind the scenes. That's where the problem lies. Therefore, I'm forced to suffer never ending agony that racks my body. And when I try to shift or move? Even more pain. So, I've decided I won't move from the corner I've squished myself into. Perhaps that's another reason why I refuse to eat. I just can't force myself to. The resulting pain isn't worth it, at least not in my eyes.

And so, here I find myself. In a room that is quiet save for the buzz of fluorescent lights over my head.

My jaw tightens as I shut my eyes, trying to think of anything other than my situation and the overhead buzz. I try to clench my fingers within the confines of the straight jacket, but freeze when the electromagnetic device fires a jolt through my system. I try not to burst into a string of swears. I know it would only make the pain worse.

At least I can't feel my arms anymore due to the blood pooling in my elbows thanks to the straight jacket. Additionally, because I can't move much with the collar or jacket on, my shoulder muscles have begun to throb from stiffness. They feel cramped and oddly enough swollen, only adding to the massive amounts of discomfort I experience. I'm nearly tempted to thrash around if only to somehow relieve my muscles. On the other hand, I know that if I did I'd probably faint from the pain. My only other option? I'm forced to sit and suffer.

A shuddering breath escapes me as I turn my face downcast where my knees are drawn up to my chest. I allow my chin to rest atop them before closing my eyes. I know there's nothing I can do. In fact, I can't even sleep. There is literally nothing I can do but sit and suffer. The pain just refuses to cease.

Despite all my happenings, the one thing I feel most acutely is anger. A burning, wretched hatred that makes me want to burn this prison to the bottom of the ocean with every last soul within it. I'm so full of fury that I just want to make everybody else feel my pain. But then I find myself taking a deep breath to calm down. This same rage is what caused the accident in Russia. I don't want to let this experience change me. I don't want to become like the people who put me here. I don't want to be what I was created to be. I refuse to become a villain, to become what they try so hard to see in me. But I also know I can no longer continue to appear regal and put together. I know I look weak. I can feel my eyes sinking in, the darkness settling under them, and the yellowish tint that covers my skin. I can feel my cheeks hollowing out. I can feel the decrease in my overall energy and will to keep going. I no longer carry the same fight I did days ago. Now I'm a shell.

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A thunderous chorus of boots sounds up the hall, drawing my attention. I know what the sound means — guards. I know I'm not due to receive another meal for another four hours and they've already adjusted my straight jacket...so why would they be coming this way? There's nobody else in this wing except me, so I know they're not here for anyone else.

That's when the worst case scenario plays across my mind: further experimentation. I become so fearful that it's finally come time for them to poke and prod me. I begin to believe this is it, this is my end. I'm going to die on a table. I'm never going to feel the wind on my face. I'm never going to see grass again. I'm never going to see the sun or the sky. I'm never going to have a fulfilled life.My last sight will be horrors I've dreamt about before.

That's when I feel myself hit absolute rock bottom. I come to peace with all of my fears. I shut my eyes and let the tears onto my cheeks. I stop trying to calm my shaking body. I just let go. I stop caring. I don't even open my eyes when I hear the door creak open. I don't try to hide my tears as footsteps approach. I don't try to quell the terror within myself. Only when I hear the sounds of shocked horror do I open my eyes weakly.

I find myself unable to correctly identify any of those looking down at me pitifully. I don't recognize my wisecracking speedster. I don't recognize the brunette that's become like a sister to me. I don't recognize the man that's treated me like their own. I don't recognize the dark-skinned, winged warrior. I don't recognize the man that can become giant or tiny in a second. I don't even recognize our patriotic leader. All I see are the Russians, here to drag me deep into hell's depths. All I see are people who mean me harm.

Suddenly, the anger I had thought abandoned me comes crashing back down. My jaw clenches as I let out a frustrated grumble deep from within my chest before attempting to jerk my arms free of the restricting jacket. I get nowhere in an attempt to free myself to fight. Instead, I receive a large jolt of electricity that invades my nerves. I choke on a strangled cry for help as my head slams into the wall behind me. A searing pain courses down my spine before extending out into my limbs. The collar around my neck lets out a quiet hiss. I've come to learn this sound as a warning that more pain will follow if I don't calm down. I slowly allow my lungs to deflate in an uneven exhale.

"Iris?" A man with dark rooted platinum hair questions.

"Who the hell are you?" I snarl viciously.