"...Do the police have any clue about the murderer?"

The "murderer" part causes me to glance up from my laptop in interest and confusion. On the television in front of me, I see a female news reporter standing in front of the Smithsonian Institution, the wind whipping her brown hair around wildly behind her. I raise an eyebrow as I lean back, increasing the volume of the television.

"Well, as of now, they unfortunately don't. But then again, the CSI have stated that the victim was Michelle Barrera, and she was labeled dead this morning at 3:31." When the news reporter says the name, a picture of a middle aged, dirty blond haired woman with brown eyes appears next to the news reporter's face. "She was last seen standing in front of the Washington museum in a dark purple trench coat."

An awkward silence follows, until the male news reporter at the news station asks, "...Anything else about Ms. Barrera?"

The female shakes her head. "No- unfortunately the CSI have ordered all media and news reporters to not say about Michelle's death and her... 'condition'."

My scowl deepens at this answer. Instead of just turning the TV off, I lower the volume and open my computer again. I click on the search bar and type in "Michelle Barrera". Multiple websites pop up, from biographies to grieving websites. I then move my mouse to click on 'Images', only to find photos of Michelle before her death. I frown and type additionally "Death". Yet still, I don't find anything about the aftermath of Michelle Barrera's death.

I'm about to search Michelle's background when I hear a knock on my door. I brush the knocking off and wait for one of my parents to get the door... until I realize that I'm the only one at my home. I quickly turn the television off entirely, hoping that whoever's at the door didn't hear the sound.

I raise an eyebrow as I silently creep to the peephole of the front door. Outside, a middle aged man with buzzcut stands outside in a full-on business suit. Wearing black sunglasses, my eyes widen when I notice the earpiece hanging from his ear. At this, I quickly assume that this man works for the government, most likely the FBI or CSI.

"Miss Sophie!" the officer yells, knocking again. "Open this door immediately! If not- I WILL use force!" He then knocks, louder than the last.

I frown when the man knocks again, each knock sounding more impatient than the last. My frown deepens as I peer through the peephole, still not opening the door. On the other side of the door, I hear the man say, ...Percipients..."

The officer then turns around. "Plan B-activate!"

When I hear "activate", my eyes widen and I quickly dash to the side, far away from the door. I swear that I heard something sizzling, and I quickly rush to the kitchen to grab a small piece of cloth. Quickly tying it over my nose and mouth, I quickly search for anything that could be used as a weapon. Suddenly, I hear the officer counting down from ten, so I quickly grab the two smallest knives and carefully hide them within my sleeves.

"Three..!"

At that, I quickly run to the kitchen, looking for any place to hide.

"Two..!"

I give up looking for a specific place and end up leaning against a counter in the center of the kitchen. I mentally scold myself for not thinking things more thoroughly as I glance behind the counter.

"One!"

I finger the two knives gingerly and tighten the cloth around my face. My heart pounds in my ears, blood rushing into my mind along with confusion and a tint of fear.

"ZERO!"

A loud sound can be heard, which I can only assume to be the front door breaking. I swallow the rising bile and try not to jump out when I hear the multiple pairs of footsteps sounding in the entrance. I'm about to make a mad dash when I hear the sound of footsteps crackle slightly, as if they're a recording. My suspicions are confirmed when the main officer curses under his breath and presses something. Almost instantaneously, the multiple footsteps disappear.

"So you're smarter than I gave you credit for, hm?" I don't have to look over my shoulder to hear the man chuckling darkly as he nears the kitchen. "Guess you really are a Percipient, huh?"

I take the risk to glance over the side of the counter. The man takes out a large, grey handgun. "Last chance!" he yells, his head turning as if he's not talking to anyone specifically, yet I notice that he'd faced my direction the most.

And then he pulls the trigger, enveloping the room in a white, blinding light. At this, I realize that I can't do anything except go through the back door, which fortunately, is the closest to the kitchen. I sigh regretfully, then jump up and run.

Instead, I crash into something. The abruptness causes me to fall back, all of the air knocked out of me. I feel a pair of hands put something metal on my head and scream out in pain and agony when the circlet tightens considerably.

The man checks his watch. "Five seconds in," he states.

The white flash clears up, and I fall to my knees, my head failing to grasp at the painful circlet that cuts into my head. The pain is so great that I struggle to glance up at the officer in front of me. Involuntary tears fall down my cheeks as I shriek in agony. In the back of my head, I wish to curse the officer that's standing there so nonchalantly, but the pain causes me to fall on my side instead.

"Eight seconds in."

My head throbs again, causing me to attempt to latch my fingers around the metal circlet on my head. When I do, I feel something cut into my wrist, causing me to drop my hands. I glance down and curse myself when I see my two knives on the floor, covered slightly with my blood. And every few seconds, a few drops of blood fall onto the tiled floor.

"Ten seconds in."

My vision blurs with my tears of pain. My thoughts are so jumbled as the metal ring tightens again. The circlet tightens, causing me to scream yet again. This time, a sob of vulnerability escapes my lips before I can stop myself.

"Fifteen seconds in."

Now the pain is so great that I close my eyes and let myself drift in the blackness in silence. I pay no heed to my bleeding wrists and only turn slightly so I can lay down on my back.

"Twenty seconds in."

Suddenly, I force myself to open my eyes to stare at a blurred version of the officer. My voice fading several times, I manage to croak out, "Take this off..."

He merely laughs. "And you're supposed to be one of the Percipients." He checks his watch impatiently. "Thirty seconds."

I close my eyes again. "...Who are you?"

"You'll find out," the man's voice says, his footsteps nearing me. I feel his arms pick me up in a bridal fashion. "Sooner or later."

Please be sooner...