I wake tied to a chair. Rope restraints hold my arms and legs down in addition to a leather strap which keeps my head stuck to the chair. The simple rope could bend and release me at my will, but the only thing on my mind is getting back to my cell for a nap, so I decide to wait and see what Dr Mann has installed for me.

By the time Dr Mann arrives my wrists have been rubbed raw from my nervous struggles and blood trickles down my fingers landing on the now clean tiles. She hobbles over to me favouring her uninjured leg, and I can't help but feel a small sense of victory. A mischievous smile makes its way to my lips which is met with an angry glare from the doctor.

"You have caused us quite a load of trouble," she says once she has stopped in front of me. I chuckle but give no response.

"Good to see you have mastered water manipulation, we were beginning to worry you didn't have it in you to control matter other than solid," she continues and checks her clipboard, "I hope you don't mind, we are conducting another test on you after today's stunt."

"Getting tired of my company yet?" I say with a fake grin plastered on my face.

"Of course not, I find your struggle quite amusing," she says leaning toward me and makes the mistake of coming too close.

I jolt forward, smashing our foreheads together in the most unladylike manner. Dr Mann falls away, loudly groaning in pain as my head spins and an overwhelming need to throw up overcomes me. That hurt a lot more than I thought it would. I close my eyes, trying to ignore my new, pounding headache and let out an awkward laugh as Dr Mann massages her temples.

"Why on earth did you just do that?" She asks as she stares at me in confusion.

"I don't know, I saw it in a movie once..." I trail off but can't help laughing at my stupidity.

"Enough," she says, "Your childish actions are only making this harder on yourself," she adds and reaches into her pocket.

She fishes out a small cardboard box and holds it up into the light, so I am able to get a better look. A box of matches. That's her big, bag second test.

"Look luck controlling fire, its always been the hardest element for previous Tens to master," she laughs as she lights a match and places it up right in my lap. She gives me a quick nod of encouragement, turns on her heel and stalks out of the room, slamming the heavy duty door shut behind her.

"Wait, stop come back!" I shout, frozen in fear as the match that sits safely on my lap. One wrong move and I could go up in flame.

I slowly lean forward and gently blow on the match in an attempt to cease the flame, but it falls to the ground instead. I curse a little to loudly under my breath and strain forward to see where it landed, hoping that it had landed on the tiles and burnt out but pull away when the smell of burning rubber hits my nostrils.

Smoke begins to fill the room making my eyes water, but the only thing I can focus on is the heat starting to run up my leg. I watch as the flame makes it's way up my leg and sets my prison uniform alight, waking up my previously dormant abilities.

I then find the courage to glance down at my legs. My lower body is eaten up by the fire, but at the same, time it is not. I am able to see the outline of my legs, though the inferno and notice how the flames wrap themselves around my limbs, becoming one with my body. My blood boils with the added heat, and I feel my power rushing through my veins.

By the time my whole body has been eaten up by the fire, I have burnt off the restraints and am walking toward the door. The guards are in for a treat, but I don't make it much further as the moment I touch the door handle a siren begins to sound.

I cover my ears as the sounds become unbearable and the walls flash in violent blues and reds. I throw a blast of fire toward the siren to stop the blinding light and watch as the flames tumble through the air and hit the ceiling, but I realise the tiles have fireproofed room. I attempt to throw another orb of fire at the roof, but while I was focused on stopping the alarm, I hadn't realised the sprinkler system had begun from the added smoke of my outburst.

The first drop of water lands on my arm with a sizzle and I throw a shield of fire toward the sprinklers, but it makes little difference as the flame is put out before it can even leave my side. By the time the full sprinkler system has kicked in, my fire burns out almost as quickly as it had started.

I look up and notice Dr Mann standing in the doorway, watching with her signature, hideous smile.

"Your progress is going quite well," says the doctor, with a gun now trained on my head.

"I guess you could say that," I shrug, knowing her bullets cannot hurt me with my new found abilities, "I could have died you know."

"But you didn't. You're stronger than we thought," she whispers as she leaves the room slamming the door behind her.

***

Two guards drag my small, damp figure down the hallway and drop me onto the dirty floor of my cell, but they don't leave. Instead, they stand at the door watching me and whispering to each other. I try to focus on the sounds of their voices and attempt to enter their minds but am met with a familiar brick wall around their minds, induced by the drugs.

Suddenly, the guard takes a step toward my cell and panic begins to eat at me. I can't go through another day on those drugs. The constant numbness and fatigue is enough to make me cower away from the man. I need them to think I have already had enough medication if I want to keep some of my powers.

I dramatically put my hand to my forehead and mumble about not feeling well. I drag myself across the floor sluggishly and pull myself up onto the bed. I lean against the wall for support I don't particularly need and put a spaced-out look on my face. I only break character for a second when I glance over at Tate and give him a small wink when the guard's look away for a moment.

He smiles at me and starts to bang his hands on the metal bars of his cell to get the guards attention away from me. I silently pray that the noises will be enough.

"Hey, in case you haven't realised its eight and we still haven't had dinner," he continues, "you can't deny us food, its basic human rights."

"You are far from human," spits the guard on my left. I see Tate wince at the comment but he doesn't stop complaining.

"Can you just check with the chefs when it will be ready," he asks and give a cocky grin to hide the hint of sadness in his expression.

"We will, I mean you gotta throw a dog a bone every now and then," the guards laugh and walk off, making an effort to swing the keys just out of reach of the prisoner's outstretched hands.

Once I hear the armoured door slam shut, I allow myself to let my guard down and sink into the bed but I know I will get little peace and quiet. I can tell that Tate wants to talk as he sits at the front of his cell, leaning against the bars and smiling at me.

"That little stunt you pulled," I point a finger and mock scold him, "was absolutely genius! You have no idea how close he came to giving me a second dose."

At first, he laughs but struggles to hide the grim expression that slowly comes over him. I sigh. Something is bothering him.

"Tate, what's wrong?" He glances up at me and shakes his head.

"I don't know, it's just what the guards said," he says sadly, "about us not being human."

"Don't let them get to you, they are just trying to get into your head." I add but it makes little difference.

"It's just that, we are different. Too dangerous for our own good." He looks down at his hands in disgust with a hint of fear.

"Sometimes different is good," I say but he shakes his head.

I have always been afraid of The Eccentric. My whole life I was taught to fear them, I cowered from them, treated them like they are monsters. I glance down at my own arm and see the tattooed numbers that now represent who I am.

Tate leans forward and places his forehead on the cool surface of his cell wall, startling me out of my thoughts.

"They treat us like its our fault," he growls as his temper begins to get the best of him, "like we are the reason the drug reacted like this," He speaks to no one in particular and stares down at his hands once again. Heat beings to fill the space between us and I realise is my cue to calm him down.

"Tate..." I start and reach out for his hand. He hesitates, then reaches through the cell though the moment our hands make contact, I begin to loose my vision and my mind goes blank.

+++

I wake to the ear-piercing sound of a scream. My eyelids shoot open, despite the thick layer of sleep and I peak out from under the blanket in fear. Reaching out for the lamp, I fumble around until I find a switch which illuminates the room enough for me to find my bearings. Wincing under the bright lights, I gently pull back the white linen but I pause when I realise something is off. This is not my bedroom. This is not my home. Where am I?

The bedroom is small but organised with a single wooden bed, desk with neatly folded clothing on top and a wardrobe covered in peeling sports posters. This room could only belong to a teenage boy. I walk across the room in a trance but stop a few meters from the door when a movement behind me catches my attention. I whip around, jaw clenched, fists ready but let out a long relieved sigh when I realise I am alone in the room.

Then I notice the mirror. I let out a quiet laugh and walk over, realising that the movement must have been my reflection but pause when I notice something off. My reflection does not belong to me. A familiar young boy with blond hair and piercing blue eyes sits in the mirror staring back at me.

"What-" I start and look down at hands, realising that they don't belong to me. I'm stuck in a teenage boys body and not just any teenage boy. I glance back up at the mirror and realise that the body belongs to a younger Tate.

Suddenly instinct kicks in and I realise I have somehow gotten into Tate's head. I must be in his memories. I want to scream but Tate's body won't let me, instead I walk over to the door and yank it open. It's like I am in a dream, conscious of my surroundings but have no control over my actions.

Tate turns around the corner into a dimly lit hallway with walls covered in family photos and nicknacks then begins to call out to his parents. I try planting my feet, covering my mouth and even attempt to grab the walls in order to stop but it's not use. Tate's memory is now in control. There is no way out.

"Mum? Dad?" I ask and open the nearest door, flinching at the cold metal of the door handle. I listen to the sound of it slamming shut behind me as I make my way over to the sleeping figures hidden under the blankets.

I watch the rise and fall of my mothers breathing and sit down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wake her. It isn't until I place my hand on my mums sleeping back that I notice the smoke coming from below me. I look down in surprise and realise my entire hand is on fire. The flames make their way up my bicep, completely enfolding my entire left arm but I feel no pain.

I shout and jump away from the bed, waking my parents in the process and fall to the floor in a heap of heat. I begin to back away from my surprised parents, leaving a trail of fire in my wake as the carpet catches alight. My body erupts in violent flames, burning my clothing and the flooring around me. The fire devours me but I live.

"What is happening to me?" I shout at my parents as they jump from the bed as the flames grab the flammable fabric of their comforter.

"What is wrong with you?" My father yells as he pulls my mother further away from me. I look down at my body, now enveloped in flames and begin to shake in fear.

"He's one of them," my mother shouts. One of them. An Eccentric. I haven't even had my examination yet. Panic begins to set in but it only feeds the flames.

"Tate, darling calm down. It's going to be alright," my mother says, reaching for but I pull away, afraid I will hurt her with my uncontrollable flames. My sudden movement causes the fire to expand around me and fresh embers begin to jump and spit, setting the curtains ablaze. I stare, frozen in fear as the fire eats it way up them to the ceiling but by the time my parents realise, it is too late.

The flames explode causing the entire ceiling to cave in trapping my parents in between the blazing bed and the wall. I shout for them over the sound of the fire alarm and run toward the rubble in alarm.

"Run, Tate!" My mother shouts to me as sparks shower from the ceiling around them but I ignore her and start to yank pieces of wood from pile trapping them in.

"Get out of here Tate," my father shouts, ignoring my protests "Go!" He roars as the final support beam above them breaks, sending the ceiling crashing down. My mother's screams fill my ears as scorching wooden planks rain down on them and the room fills with the smell of burning flesh. I run out of the room, dodging wooden planks and sizzling ,ceiling cords, while hysterically coughing and spitting. I run into furniture and bang into walls as I try to escape both the burning house and my mistakes. I yank open the front door and run out of the house, straight into the arms of the D.A.C who stand outside ready to take me away.

+++

The vision stops when Tate pulls his hand out of my tight grip and starts backing away from me, his eyes wide in surprise. He saw everything.

"Tate, I'm sorry," I begin, "I didn't mean to-"

"My sister," he whispers to himself.

"What?"

"I left her there to die," he utters, "I ran straight past her room and left." Then I remember the closed, pink door covered in flowers that I had passed when walking to Tate's parent's room and the family photos with the smiling, blond girl standing with Tate. His sister.

"Do you think she escaped? When they took me, the house was still on fire but what if..." He trails off, knowing the likeliness of the young girl escaping the flames.

"It wasn't your fault. You didn't know how to control your powers." I add but don't reach for his hand having made that mistake.

"I shouldn't have let it happen," he whispers and runs a hand through his blond curls.

"Your parents wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself," I soothe.

"You didn't know them," he sobs and covers his eyes with his hands.

"Tate-" I start but am cut short.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," he cries and wave of heat rushes through me. I pull away from the bars when I notice the flames that have suddenly appeared around his fists. An apologetic expression plays on his face but disappears as quickly as it came. He sulks back over to his bed and curls up into a ball under the covers.

"I'm sorry," I whisper too quiet for anyone to hear.