Someone slaps me. I sit up and force my eyes open to see the person who decided to disturb me at this hour. My curtains are ajar, allowing the sunlight to show me the panic in Mathea's dark brown eyes. If it weren't for me shining a torch into her eyes a few years ago, I'd still be claiming her eyes are black.

I now notice Mathea's irregular breaths, and Mathea, previously towering over me, bends her body to rest her arms on her knees and closes her eyes. She remains in this position for some time which causes her thick black hair to fall across her face.

"What time is it, T? Is something wrong?"

"I saw them from my window. I heard them talking too. House-ma B kept telling them they'd cause a scene if they did this now, but they wouldn't budge. They kept saying they had to do it, Wills. The guards kept talking about their orders, and when House-ma B told them to shove it, they pushed past her. That's when I ran here for you. I ran as soon as they pushed our housemother," Thea's rambling comes to a stop as she walks over to my room door and presses her ear against it.

"I don't know what to do now that I'm here. Maybe," she hesitates, "you should hide, Wills."

Her voice suggests she doubts her solution. I now hear faint footsteps in the hallway and move my duvet off of me before placing one foot onto the floor, causing the tile to squeak. Thea rushes to me, somehow managing to do this quietly, and places her arms on my shoulder to hold me in place.

"Willow, they're coming for you," her voice cracks as she says this.

I pull my sister closer, and she curls herself against me as I hold her against my chest. I didn't think this is how they did it. It doesn't make sense to kick me out of the program at this hour instead of contacting my mother during the afternoon to come pick me up and have her sign some forms that would surely put us in debt.

The quickness of my dismissal is also unexpected; it's too soon. Sure, I've shown no improvements since the previous year, but I thought they'd decide my fate at a later stage. I thought they'd wait until, at the very least, my third or fourth evaluation. Maybe they hoped I only needed the holiday as rest and would be back to normal for the New Year.

Still, everything seems too quick. I've never been fond of the Gifted Program, but now that I am about to be forced out; I cannot say that I am happy to leave. Perhaps I fear what waits for me outside of this program, because it is all I've known for a long time. This program has been a large part of my education, even before I was even accepted into it.

Perhaps I'll go to that culinary school now. However, I know Thea doesn't like this, and for that reason, I wish to stay here longer.

The footsteps are louder now. Mathea moves her head from my chest and faces me, looking more panicked than she did when she woke me up. I point to the closet, and she quietly moves across my room to hide in it.

I lie back in bed and wait, wondering if they'll knock and give me time to pack my clothes. If so, the best place for Thea to hide is not my closet. Maybe they'll barge in and drag me out of my room. Maybe I'll scream and wake up everyone in house.

There isn't a knock. The door opens slowly and I can't tell how many people have entered my room. Someone shakes me with the same strength I imagine Mathea used on me before she decided a slap was the best method to wake me up. This person will not get that far. I stretch my legs out and take some time to open my eyes, as I would wake up if this were a regular morning. There are three figures standing on the opposite end of my room; all men.

The man in the middle speaks, "Willow Bare, you need to come with us now. There is no need to change your clothing; all necessary items will be sent to you. Please know, we are authorised to use force if you try to resist." The man sounds as if he has been practising that speech.

I get out of bed slowly and stand before the men leading me to the consequence of my failure in this program, and the man closest to the door motions for me to walk ahead of them.

I walk out the door and hear the men's footsteps behind me. We pass my boarding housemother on my way out the building, but House-mum B doesn't look up at us. It is only once we've exited the building that I gain the courage to speak.

"When will my mother get here to take me home?" None of the men answer me.

We continue walking towards the reception in silence. This actually might be the best time to dismiss me from the program. No one is awake now so I won't get various disapproving stares from the officials or stares showing worry from any of my peers. Also, once news about my dismissal becomes public, I will have already moved out of this compound and into my house.

I won't have to listen to the whispers that would shame me, and I won't have to say goodbye to Kane. Although I know he will cope with my departure, he will be disappointed that I have left. This way, Kane can get over his disappointment or sadness, and I'll see him during the holidays. I hope my new school's holidays coincide with his, because I don't want our parents protesting to our visiting hours.

My mother is the first person I see as I walk into the reception. The reception table supports her weight, and she rests her head on one of her hands while the other hand pulls out strands of her neatly tied hair. It's a habit she said she was never able to get rid of.

"Ma'am," my mother only lifts her head to look at me once a guard addresses her. Tears fill her eyes, but I know she won't permit them to flow out. She looks disappointed, and I can't blame her. It's a shame that she signed away her child and will get nothing in return.

My failure won't only cost us financially, but it will ruin my father's reputation as well. She's probably thinking about how father's co-workers will see him; they'll laugh at the irony of him working for the Gifted Program while his own child is incapable of meeting the standards. It's disgraceful really.

My mum doesn't say a word to me. She only stares at me; her eyes are scanning over my body from head to toe, analysing every inch of her disappointment.

"Ma'am, please take a seat. I'll send for you both when management requests it." Two guards walk towards a door with a sign that reads 'staff only'. One guard remains with my mother and I, which I am grateful for.

My mother is the first to walk towards the grey couch the guard motioned to, and she sinks into the cushions. I remain next to the guard who stayed behind but walk away when I notice his side-glances. I walk over to that couch and sit next to my mother. Not having the heart to look at her at this moment, my eyes are glued to the ground, and I notice that both our legs are tapping up and down.

"Mother, is dad here too? They wouldn't leave him out of this just because I'm his child, would they?" As the words leave my mouth, I realize I am not really sure what this is. She should be in there with dad if they're signing the papers for my dismissal.

"Mother, what is this?" I now look at my mother whose eyes are still fixed on the ground.

She shakes her head and tightly shuts her eyes. Her mouth opens slightly, but she closes it without saying a word, leaving me to wonder about this situation. I don't want to bother her again and decide its best to wait for the guard to present us to management.

"You've cost us too much, Willow. Really it's... too much," my mother says and turns her head to look at me. I wish she were still fascinated with the floor.

"Your dad and I have worked too hard for you to throw this opportunity away."

"You don't understand, ma, I've tried. I really did try but I couldn't do this anymore. I never meant to get kicked out, but –"

"Kicked out? That wouldn't be good for any of us." She rests her hand on my thigh before she continues speaking, "Willow, I am sorry."

I've only seen this look on her face once before. It was directed at her sister, Topaz's mum, once in our kitchen. I believe I was ten years old, and my mother hit me that day for trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. This look sends shivers down my spine.

I stand up slowly and walk away from my mother. I walk towards the door of reception, wanting to step out for some air. However, the guard now stands close to the exit, stopping me from leaving. I turn back to look at my mother who shakes her head as she watches me.

"Mother, what is this?" I ask again, but my mother tells me nothing. Realizing she will not give me the response I want, I turn my attention to the guard. I can leave if I get through him. I only want air.

Suddenly the door that reads 'staff only' is thrown open and three men walk out; they are the two guards that left earlier on and my father. In a second, I throw myself at the guard standing closest to the exit. He doesn't take long to regain his balance and throws me against the wall away from the exit.

They all stare at me, focusing on the object in my hand. The knife I took from the guard's pocket cut my hand, and my blood drips onto the white carpet. All guards now raise their guns and aim them at me. They should only have plastic bullets, but I prefer not to discover how much pain my gift will shield me from if I were to be shot. I hear my mum scream something, but her words are directed at my dad.

"Tell me what this is," I demand.

Men move towards me, but I turn my head to face my father. I hope he doesn't come closer, because I might hate myself for hurting him and hate him for making me do what I'd have to.

The familiar pain appears in my head, forcing me to close my eyes and pound the handle of the knife against my head.

When the pain first appeared I tried running to my mother to ask for help, but I barely made it out of my room door before passing out. I woke up and decided against telling my mother about the pain. A health risk could've resulted in my dismissal from the program. Either way, the pain had left when I woke up.

However, the pain came back the day after and my thoughts weren't mine. It took some time, time I spent getting used to the pain to prove my strength, but I found a way to make the pain stop and to make those thoughts roaming through my head leave. I found a way until these people forced the pain back into me. At least; I think they're doing this to me.

I feel someone's presence in front of me, and the knife in my hand stops midway to my head. My father stands two feet away from me, hands held in the air to assure me that he means no harm. His eyes quickly scan over me before he settles on my eyes. My father flinches when I walk forward to close the space between us.

I stare into his eyes hoping they'll show me his intentions and decide to drop the knife by his feet. Using both my hands, I grip one of his arms. He looks down at the sleeve I now grip; maybe he is thinking about how he'll have to wash my blood off the suit.

"Dad, you don't understand what this is doing to me. I can't explain the pain, Dad, but I made it stop. It stopped once I stopped taking their medication." My dad's eyes widen and I know I have his attention.

"They want to send me off. I saw the papers on my housemother's desk last year. She left them on her desk before the holidays at the end of the year. It said I have an assignment in some country; Lim...no. The name is Lit.... well, I can't remember the country."

"Will—"

"It'll kill me to go in this state, Dad. I swear the doctors are doing this, and it hurts. It hurts me, Dad. It's in my head. Wait, I don't mean my imagination. It throbs and burns and hurts. I'm just...I'm changing," I blurt out the secret I tried to keep away from everyone.

Although it must have been expected, they can now be sure that I'm defect; a damaged Gifted who is incapable of fulfilling her duties.

My dad nods his head, and I'm sure he understands me. I see the syringe too late and start feeling light headed moments after it pricks my neck. My father strokes my hair and forces a smile.

"I will make this all better, you hear me?"