I felt weightless, like a feather on the wind. I was floating above a room, looking down at a body lying on a table. There were other people in the room, three or four folks all dressed in blue. I could hear machines beeping in the background.

Someone spoke up. "Doctor, the patient is under."

"Thank you, Nurse Harrington. Let us proceed," the doctor said in a deep, male voice.

At his words, frantic activity began. I floated closer and watched as wires were attached to the body on the table and something was shoved into the patient's mouth.
The door opened, and all activity stopped. Everyone turned to watch a woman with long, dark hair, dressed entirely in purple, walk into the room. She moved around the table until she hovered over the patient's head.

The doctor spoke again. "Okay people, let's get this show on the road." He turned to the woman in purple. "You can begin."

The woman placed her hands on either side of the patient's head and chanted softly. The words she was saying were a mere whisper when her hands began to glow. The chanting got louder, and that light expanded and changed color. It took on a bluish hue, then orange as it completely surrounded the patient's head.

Suddenly, the woman shouted a string of words, and the fluorescent lights overhead flickered. The woman's hand started to shake, and the patient's left foot twitched wildly. Oddly, while that foot twitched, the rest of the body on the table lay motionless.

Colorful lights appeared. They swirled and bounced against me, and the air became thick and heavy. I felt a tug in the center of my being. And then another one, this time stronger.

I was being pulled down.

I struggled to stay afloat, but whatever had a hold of me was forcing me downward. I plunged, spiraling toward the body on the table, waiting. Expecting at any moment to feel the impact when I slammed into it.

Instead, right before I was about to make contact, everything around me disappeared.

***

I opened my eyes, and a bright light blazing overhead caused a sharp, white-hot pain to race across my temples. I closed my eyes and then opened them again, this time more slowly. I shielded my face against the light as I sat up.

Where am I?

The people in blue, the doctor, the beeping machines... A hospital?  The word echoed through my mind. I looked around, expecting to see the normal things you'd see in a hospital room: another patient in a bed, a window, hospital equipment. There was none of that. The room I was in was small. The walls were stark and white. There was one window with heavy bars and mesh in the glass. Fluorescent lights shone overhead, and the door was a thick, polished steel. Maybe not a hospital.

A prison?

Who am I?

As the thought slid across my mind, my pain increased. I ignored the ache and strained to remember something about myself. No words, images, or memories floated up. There was nothing there. Nothing but a deep, dark emptiness. Panic rose from the pit of my stomach.
Finally, when the throbbing in my head eased, I slid off the bed onto my feet. I felt weak, and my legs were shaking. I moved slowly toward the door. I stood before it, my hands running over its cold, smooth surface. There wasn't any handle I could see—at least, not on my side. I was here alone in this strange room. As what? A patient? A prisoner?

At that last thought I found myself pounding on the door, screaming, begging to be let out.
Silence met my cries.

I lost track of how long I stood there banging. My fists were bruised by the time exhaustion set in, and I had to stop.

I moved back to the only piece of furniture in the room. It looked like a hospital bed with a metal handle on either side, but there was something else dangling down both sides. I reached over and lifted a strap. At the end of the strap was a leather cuff. Soft, white material lined the inside of the cuff. Restraints. These were used to keep someone in the bed.

I looked at my left wrist and saw the slight outline of a bruise. It wrapped all the way around.

I've been in this bed, restrained.

I had obviously fought against those shackles hard enough to bruise myself.

What is going on?

The thought barely crossed my mind when the pain hit, harder this time. It was a burning pain that shot between my eyes and made me cry out. I fell back against the bed, unable to move, to think, to open my eyes. The only thing that existed at that moment was the throbbing through my head and pounding at my temples.

The agony seemed to go on forever. Sweat ran down my face. I wiped my hand across my forehead and forced myself back to my feet. More than my legs shook now—my whole body trembled. I forced myself to take a deep breath and think.

There has to be a way out through that door. I moved toward it, and this time a slot at the bottom opened. Shocked, I took a step back and watched as a red, plastic tray slid through the opening. It held a plastic bowl full of some kind of brown food and a plastic cup filled with liquid. There were no utensils. The smell of food had my stomach grumbling.

I was starving, as though I hadn't eaten in days. I knelt down and burned my fingers shoveling the brown mush into my mouth. It tasted better than it looked. When the bowl was empty, I picked up the cup and took a sniff. No smell. I took a small sip. Water. I gulped it down, not lifting the cup from my lips until it was empty.
But I was still hungry and thirsty. I pounded on the door.

"Is anyone there? I need more food!"

No one answered back.

There was nowhere to go but back to bed. I lay staring at the wall, trying to figure out what was going on. Time passed, but I had no idea how much—there was no clock on the wall, no shadows shifting across the room to let me know if it was day or night. Eventually, I fell asleep.
The noise of keys jingling in a lock woke me some time later. I watched the door slowly swing open. A man and a woman walked into the room. The woman held a clipboard. Her brown hair was neatly pinned up into a bun. She wore a white uniform and thick-soled, white shoes.

My gaze shifted to the man. There was nothing odd or frightening about his appearance. He looked like an average man in his fifties dressed in a white coat. He had short, black hair that was graying at the temples, a trimmed, black beard, and thick, black-rimmed glasses. But as I looked at him, I felt a terrible panic rise within me. Under his gaze, my hands began to shake. I clasped them tightly together and straightened my back. Whoever these people were, they could give me the answers I desperately needed.

"Colina, how are you feeling?"

He was speaking to me, saying the name as though it belonged to me. "Is that who I am? Is my name Colina?"

He looked over at the woman and then back at me. "It's natural to have some memory problems after the procedure. Do you know where you are?"

I shook my head and looked around the room. "Where am I?"

"The Silver Bell Rehabilitation Center," he answered. "We rehabilitate those whose powers are out of control and have driven them to criminal behavior. You've been remanded here by order of your guild, as you've used your powers to harm another, in violation of your guild oath."

I wanted to protest. I had no memory of doing anything of the sort, but since I couldn't remember my name or anything else that might explain what was happening, I had to believe him. I started to get off the bed, but the sudden movement caused pain to rush across my temples again. I leaned back and resisted the urge to close my eyes.

"Headaches are normal after the procedure. I'll have one of the nurses bring you something for the pain." He turned toward the woman. "Nurse, may I see her chart?"

"Yes, Dr. Barton." She handed him the clipboard.

I blinked in confusion, looking down at my clasped hands. Procedure?

He took out a pen from the pocket of his coat and wrote something down before flipping through the chart. "How is your disorientation? If you can rate it, give me a number between one and ten, with one being not much and ten representing overwhelming. What level would you say it is today?"

My disorientation? I didn't understand what he was saying.

He was watching me closely now. "It's normal after the procedure to have some short-term memory loss. Some confusion. Not to worry, it's only temporary." He turned to walk away but stopped and said over his shoulder,

"We'll check back with you tomorrow to see if your memory has cleared up, and the nurse will bring you something for the headaches."

"What did you do to me?"

He turned back toward me. "As you know, the herbal treatments weren't working, so we needed to try a different approach...a different treatment to try and help you gain control of yourself and your powers." He flipped through the chart again. "Are you still hearing the voices?"

"Voices?" My brain seemed to have slowed down, and I was having a hard time comprehending what he was saying.

He looked up from the chart. "My hope is that the Styrmir therapy will curb the wild emotional swings causing the internal imbalance and bring an end to the voices and return your control. You were an excellent candidate for it, and the procedure went extremely well."

I didn't understand what was going on. I felt like a mental zombie. "What did you do to me?"

"Ah, I explained the procedure to you days before, but the memory lapses. Styrmir therapy—or lightning treatment—is something we've been experimenting with. So far, we have been able to help over a hundred patients regain control of their magic after using this procedure. It will take a few days to see if it's worked. Until then, just rest and relax, and I'm sure everything will be clearer soon."

Panic rose inside me. I wanted to leave this room and this place immediately. I moved off the bed and headed toward the door.

The doctor reached out and grabbed my arm. I tried to pull away, but his grip was tight. I tried to shuffle backward, hoping the weight of my body would break me free from his grasp, but he was stronger than he looked. He dropped the chart and grabbed me with his other hand.

I twisted and pulled hard and was suddenly free. But only for a moment. He came up behind me and grabbed me in a bear hug. The feel of his body against mine sent fear racing through me. I didn't know why I should be so frightened of this man, but I was. I struggled again. I kicked at his shins, screamed, and fought. I needed to get free.

"Nurse, call the orderlies." Dr. Barton sounded strained.
I got one hand free, spun around, and scratched his face. My nails slid down his forehead.

A look came into his eyes—it was like watching something dark slowly rise, and as it surfaced, his face contorted into an expression of pure rage. I froze in shock.

New hands grabbed at me. Two men stood on either side to restrain me.

The doctor's expression was back to normal. "Nurse, I think we need to give her a sedative to help calm her down."

The nurse walked toward me, and I shook my head and screamed, "Let go of me!"

"Everything is fine. You'll feel better in just a minute." She reached out and grabbed my arm. I felt a sharp prick as the needle slid under my skin. A few seconds later, the world began to narrow, and everything around me slipped into darkness.

***