Week 1

Mr White says the first week will be solely electric. I'm electrocuted for about four hours each day, with breaks given for me to eat and freshen up. The breaks also allow Mr White to record my responses.

I'm escorted by guards from my old room to my treatment room. Mr White says a new treatment will be given to me every week and that doctors will tend to my wounds when needed.

I'm also prescribed a new medication, and I take it every day in front of Mr White. Breakfast and dinner is brought to my room, and the only time I can see my friends is during lunch in the dining hall. The guards also escort me there.

Kane is the first friend I see since the day my treatment began. I don't say a word to him as we eat lunch at our usual table near the air-conditioner at the corner of the dining hall. Mathea hasn't come to see me. Maybe she can't bring herself to see me in this state.

Week 2

This week focuses on combat. My opponent is allowed a weapon of his or her choice, while my weapon—being my teeth, feet or fists—is chosen by Mr White.

I'm supposed to train for two hours before I'm given any break, but I sometimes pass out an hour into training. Mr White is never impressed when that happens, but he says he believes I will improve.

He's also disappointed that I've failed to give him a name of my choosing but laughs when I assure him I'm thinking of one. Mathea hasn't joined Kane and me for lunch yet. I don't bother asking Kane for the reason why, deciding that I may not like the reason why Mathea hasn't come to see me. I can no longer think of a good enough excuse for that.

Today, I talk to Kane for the first time since my treatment began. The conversation starts awkwardly; I tell him the peach t-shirt he has on does not flatter him at all. He remains silent for some time, but the fork in Kane's hand falls on the table as he bursts out laughing. He tells me he hates the t-shirt as well but is glad I'm speaking.

Kane then turns to pull out an object from his kaki-brown backpack. He slides a daisy across the table and doesn't look up at me until I speak. When he does look at me, I redirect my gaze to the daisy, twisting the stem between my thumb and index finger.

"We were thirteen when you first gave me a daisy," I say. "No guy asked me to the school dance, and I told you I didn't even want to go to that silly thing. You showed up at my house that evening and found me crying. You told me you would've asked me to the dance sooner, but you were contemplating whether or not you wanted to go to it since you truly found silly. You handed me a daisy, explaining that roses were too expensive in the Valentines season, before commanding me to 'put on a damn dress'."

I laugh as I remember the mixture of emotions on Kane's face as he said this; irritation and satisfaction.

"I wore the bright red dress my mother bought for some cousin's wedding I never attended. You refused to compliment me, thinking I'd get the wrong idea."

Kane's jaw is clenched when I finally look into his dark green eyes. "What are they doing to you, Will?"

I ask him to make sure they won't take me again. This is an unfair request, but I can't help it. I need to know how far he'd go for me. He stretched his arms across the table to hold my hand that is still touching the daisy's stem.

I feel the guard's presence behind me even before Kane motions for me to stand up. He walks over to me and gives me the tightest hug I have ever received. When he pulls away, I see his smirk that only means trouble.

He tackles the guard to the floor and is only able to get one punch in before a second guard kicks Kane off. I'm unable to see how the fight ends before someone drags me away. I'm not sure if Kane screams out my name. My mind has been playing tricks on me.

Week 3

I sit with Mathea. This is the first time I've seen her since my treatment started. She says she last saw Kane the night of the fight he had with the guards. He told her to memorise the amount of exits and guards at every exit point for my escape.

Mathea is a Hyperthymesiac, but everyone calls people like her Snaps. Mathea, and others with the gift, have a somewhat version of a photographic memory. They can remember everything they see for a long period of time, and the jobs they're given range from teachers to spies. It's a huge problem when they see traumatic events.

Mathea is now amongst the best. Mathea can remember almost every detail of everything she sees. Her memory has only faltered twice, but that was during the early stages when her gift was not developed.

Mathea goes on to tell me about Kane's plan for my escape, but my focus is on the pain in my head.

"Wills, do you think you can just improve without any of this?"

I ignore my sisters question. I feel no need to answer something so obvious. If I were able to help myself, I would have done it a long time ago. I would save myself all the pain I'm currently experiencing.

"Willow, you can't get kicked out of the Gifted Program."

I feel as if Thea and I have been going back and forth on this topic. She doesn't realize that I am not in control of my fate at this program. I know what it will cost my family, and I would change if I could. Unfortunately, this is all there is to me; I cannot improve my abilities.

"T, I'm trying. Leave me alone, okay?"

"Everything is so much bigger than this."

"I know, Thea."

"If you can just try harder then maybe everything will be okay. Do you think they're hurting you too much? I think you need a break from everything that's going on down there. You could just need time with friends or maybe time to be away from everything. I think you just need to rest for a while."

I feel my brain liquefying, but seeing as Mr White has not picked up signs of that while monitoring me, I tell no one about it. Mathea shakes my shoulders, noticing I'm no longer listening to her. A guard comes to take me back to my room, allowing me to place a light kiss on Mathea's forehead before I leave.

"You'll tell Kane to stop. Things don't hurt much anymore," I whisper this to my sister before walking ahead of the guard to my prison.

Week 4

I call Dr White a bitch this week, but he says he'll give me more time to decide on a name for him. I've grown quite fond of him. If it weren't for our opposing roles, I believe Mr White and me could have been good friends. Of course, some days of our friendship would be tasking; I'd be bothered by his everlasting happiness, especially if he did something to anger me and was easily able to carry on with his life. Perhaps I'm just jealous. I wonder how it feels to be carefree.

Dr White often talks to me to keep me distracted. I ask him about his Gift, but everything about Mirrors is truly confusing.

He says that he knows when he is supposed to feel something, such as anger or pain, but those feeling don't occur. He claims to know when he is supposed to feel something by studying other people's reaction. That's what the psychology classes at this program are for; they're supposed to help Mirrors learn how to understand a person's feelings.

"Shouldn't you feel something if someone kicks you? Feeling pain should cause some anger. Mirrors can feel physical pain."

"I should feel pain, Ms Bare, but there is no science to explain the supernatural. I feel happy or I feel nothing."

"Wouldn't that be frustrating? To feel nothing?"

"On the contrary, Ms Bare, it feels...well, it feels like nothing. That is most of the time. However, my gift is not perfected, Ms Bare. There are moments where I may feel a hint of some negative emotion. That feeling never lasts long," Dr White says, smiling at me with his pearly white teeth.

I lower my head, no longer paying much attention to anything else Dr White says. I'll never understand people like him. My mind drifts to thoughts about midterm; I'll be going home for a few days next week. I'm not sure what to expect the atmosphere in my house will be like; everything has changed so quickly.

Without thinking, I blurt out a further curiosity of mine, "Do you ever wish you could feel?"

I raise my head to face Mr White, but he's focused on the wooden bat his fingers are currently running over.

"I don't know, Ms Bare. The textbooks say no one does."