Kat's POV

The horrible screech of alarms seem to snap me out of my daze. A mix of confusion and terror fill my whole body, sending my brain only one direction.

To fight.

My sudden struggle surprises the two wardens who were dragging me away, which gives me an advantage. The only thing controlling me is rage. But it isn't enough.

"No! I won't let you do this to me!" I cry out, kicking and thrashing as backup begins to flood the hallways.

"Bring the girl to safety at all costs," a man says. "She's our first priority at the moment."

I'm still confused why I'm such a big deal. It's not like I'm much of a help. But really, this is the president's way of revenge. He knows that this is the worst punishment for me imaginable. I'm going to be his personal puppet, who he'll send to kill Jason and all my other friends.

I suddenly feel a sharp sting on my neck. It doesn't take long for the thick fog of sedation to settle over. I stumble away a little, still attempting an escape even if I know it's futile. Darkness begins to close in, leaving me even more helpless than I already was. The last thing I remember hearing before the void grew even more so was Jason screaming my name.

Week after week, I never reach full consciousness. During my very short waking moments, I'm only aware of the feeling of soft, silky sheets and pillows. The only detail of where I am that I can grasp is that I'm in bed.

Why don't you just kill me already? I think miserably. The process of the small thought itself is exhausting, and I fall into sleep again.

When I do wake up, (fully this time), the strong smell of chemical tang that a large hospital gives of fill my nostrils. I'm in a padded cell this time, so clean and white that it almost hurts my eyes.

Padded walls. No visible door. Do they really think I need to be restrained this much?

A smirk lifts the sides of my mouth. They're scared of me, aren't they? But who exactly is 'they?'

No matter. I have a feeling they should be.

I throw the sheets off, feeling an unusual strength, especially considering how long I've been knocked out. I find myself in a thin, white nightgown covered in soft blue flowers. Fuzzy blue socks with grippers on the bottom cover my feet.

I begin to study the white, padded walls. I know there are hidden cameras in them, but I just haven't found them yet.

"What's going on?" I call, my shout not even making an echo, absorbed by the padding.

I pace, ripping out my IV. Blood streams from my arm with the sensation of a light sting. The machine let's out some alarm, signaling that I have been disconnected from it.

My blood stains the sheets red, and I watch it soak into them with wonder.

Where am I?

What is this?

Who am I?

The last thought is rather puzzling. My brain throbs with a painful emptiness, like everything has been sucked out of it.

"Katerina," a voice says. "Are you in pain?"

I nearly jump out of my skin. "What? Who is that?"

"We're here to help you, Katerina. You're still in critical condition."

The voice through the speakers is soft and calm, lacking any emotion at all. It makes me even more uneasy.

"D- did you do this to me?" I whisper, feeling my hands begin to tremble.

"We've given you a gift, Katerina. And in return, you are going to help us achieve something."

Katerina... Why does she keep calling me that?