It's late, probably around midnight. I lay staring at the roof and listening to the drops of water that leak through the ceiling and hit the slowing expanding puddle next to my bed and think back to the life I left behind.

On a normal day my father would have finished work early, still wearing his silly white lab coat and glasses while my mother would come home late, still wearing her tight pencil suit and business attire. I would walk through the doors to our New York terrace after track training to the two of them laughing and dancing in the kitchen to loud eighties music, completely forgetting the fact they are there to make a meal.

The moment I would make my way into the room the music would cease, and their complete and utter attention would turn to me, their only child. My mother would fuss over my dusty shoes and sweaty uniform while my father would ask how my day went or offer me a plate of half cooked dinner. It starts to dawn on me how much I miss the simple things.

I begin to wonder if they know what has happened to me or what I have become. A single tear slides down my cheek, and I sniffle a sob when suddenly, a loud bang at the end of the prison room breaks the silence. I sit up in my bed, struggling to see who is coming through the darkness and wipe my tear stained cheeks. Whoever it is, they can't see me like this.

After a few seconds, three wardens stand outside my cell and start tapping codes in the panel to unlock the cell door. I cower away from the hands that grab at me, but I know there is no escape.

They take no chances this time, wrapping me in a series of chains and cuffs till the point of suffocation and push me out the door. As I am dragged out of my cell, I lock eyes with Tate who gives me a weak smile, but I look down, too proud for his sympathy.

They lock me in a room similar to the one I was first brought into although this time there is something more sinister going on. I sit strapped into a chair with numerous coloured cords wrapped around every limb and machines beeping around me. A quick look to my left informs me of a heart monitor with various numbers jumbled on the screen, and I can't help but squirm at the sight, not knowing what testing is to come.

I decide to focus on the steady beeping that represents my heart beat and try not to panic, I manage to do this until a voice fills the room. A voice that could only belong to one person.

"We meet again, Miss Frey," says the blond woman as she enters the room, notepad and pen in hand. This time she bares a name tag that reads; Dr Mann.

I glare at her as she makes her way across the room and begins to tighten the restraints which already constrict my breathing as she hums to the tune of a nameless song. I glare up at her as anger boils inside me and I feel the tug of my new powers at the back of my mind. The drugs must have worn off.

"You could try," says the woman as she pulls on another strap making it hard for me to breathe, "although I wouldn't recommend it. We have a line of soldiers standing outside that door waiting for you to make that very mistake." I fall back into the chair in defeat. No escape attempts this time.

"Why am I here?" I ask, holding back a groan as a result of the pain the restraints induce.

"Your powers need to be triggered, to figure out the extent of Tens abilities," she starts smiling freakishly, "usually a traumatic event or the examination serum would have activated them naturally as a result of increased adrenaline levels although we want to trigger them synthetically."

I stare at her in confusion, but she does not bother to explain further, instead, leaves me alone in the chair. I guess I'm about to find out. Minutes pass with no change until I hear the door open again. Two men in white coats walk in and start to record information from the machines on notepads vigorously.

"What's happening? What are you going to do to me?" I ask though I receive no acknowledgment.

Once they are happy with their accounts, they walk to the opposite side of the room and open the door next to a one-way mirror to an observation room. All of a sudden the machine to my left starts beeping, but before I notice the huge charging sign that fills the screen, I am shocked.

Electricity shoots through the wires that wrap around my arms and burns away at the bare skin of my arms and legs that weren't lucky enough to be protected by the thin hospital gown. My whole body seizures up as the electrocution fills me causing my muscles to spasm and my joints lock. I scream out in pain as the smell of my burning skin fills my nose which it sizzles away under the hot sparks of the wires.

"Please, don't do this!" I shout out toward the window as another round of shocks shoot through my body causing me to choke up before I can beg again.

After the fifth round of electrocution I begin to feel new powers surging in my brain, but this time it's different. Rather than feeling people's emotions or hearing their thoughts this time I can sense the matter in the room, the glass of the mirror, the metal of the restraints and the wood of the chair beneath me. The power bubbles my blood and clouds my mind, but I don't stop fighting it. By the next shock, I am ready.

The machines whir and start to spark as the glass mirror shatters to pieces revealing a group of terrified scientists. The restraints on my arms bend, releasing me from their grips and I begin to rise into the air, levitating out of the chair beneath me as my power overcomes me. I let my anger fuel my skills and throw the chair which once held me captive through the window using only my mind, taking down a few innocent scientists before they could duck to avoid it.

I glance over at the camera in the side of the room and the monitor squealing behind me then, with a flick of my hand they both explode into millions of pieces. Glass and metal clatter to the ground and I smile at my handy work. Not bad for someone who only just found out they are a mutation of the human race with kinetic powers.

The series of guards that enter through the doors are enough to remind me that the observation chamber provides my only escape. Without a second thought, I turn to the room and throw all my energy at the remaining glass causing it to shatter to the ground.

I take one last hurried look at the guards crashing into the room and run toward the door already planning my second and hopefully final escape. I dive through the jagged window before fully considering my options and crash to the ground right in front of a pair of black heels. I don't even have to see her face to know who it is.

"You just don't give up do you?" Dr Mann asks through a menacing laugh as she bends down to my height. I glare up at her as she grabs my arm and pulls me up, so I am facing her.

Even with her heels, I am a good head taller than then the women, and I can't help but laugh at that fact that she is now the one glaring up at me. She narrows her eyes and grabs a syringe from the deep pocket of her lab coat.

"You want to act like this?" She asks as she fumbles with the lid.

"Then you can deal with the consequences," she sneers, and with the slightest pinprick in my arm, I'm out cold.

***

Once again, I lay on the hard bed in defeat. The drugs have kicked in, and I feel utterly powerless. A sudden sense of determination comes over me, and I decide I may as well practise my powers if I ever want them to be of use to me.

Focusing on the tray which sits in front of me, I attempt to raise it off the ground but instead end up with a cracker of a headache and only a few inches of levitation. I lay down on my cot, drowning in self-pity when I hear a voice from the cell next to mine.

"Frey?" Tate calls from the front of his cell. When I glance over at him his face lights up with a smile so big I can't help to smile myself.

Tate has been my only companion over the past few days, and our constant chatter is the only thing keeping me from becoming like those in the cells around us. We don't talk about much. Just how he has spent his time in this prison for over two years.

Not once have we mentioned our lives before coming here. He hasn't asked. Maybe out of politeness or perhaps he simply does not care, but it does not bother me. Talking to someone down here who doesn't fear me like the guards and doctors is enough to brighten my mood.

"What happened to you?" He asks gesturing to the blistering, zig-zag marks that run up my arms from where the machines had left a scar.

"Nothing," I mumble as I pull down the sleeves of my gown and hug my arms to my chest, but when I see the concerned look on his face, my heart melts a little bit.

"They're experimenting on you aren't they?" He says, his blue eyes run over me in concern causing a hot flush to make it's way to my cheeks.

"Yes," I trail off trying to look at anything but his disappointed expression.

"Why am I not surprised? They couldn't wait to get their hands on a new subject," he mumbles, looking down at his tightly fisted hands when a sudden, angry heat fills the air. I glance up in surprise and take a step back in fear as I notice the slight spark of a flame run up his arm as he begins to angrily paces the room.

"They are trying to trigger my powers, to better understand them first," I blurt, immediately regretting the comment when the room warms again causing me to pull away from the bars in fear of his flames. Even with the drugs in his system, he is still dangerous. A firecracker ready to go off.

With a set jaw and aggravated expression, he turns to face me, but his eyes soften immediately when he notices my fear. Suddenly the heat disappears, and he slides to the floor in defeat, regretting his outburst.

"We were their Guinea Pigs," he begins but doesn't make eye contact out of embarrassment, "They originally did tests on us when the drug that conceals our powers was in production. To see if we were immune to our abilities under the influence," he sighs.

"They used your gifts against us, and some didn't handle it very well. Didn't come out the same," he gestures to the motionless girl in the cell across from, and I notice the huge sign on her control panel which reads "Nine - Extreme Caution." Disposable lives to the people that run this place.

He opens his mouth to continue but is interrupted by the bang of a baton on metal and a scolding guard. I glare at the guard and turn back to listen to the end of Tate's stories but it's too late, he looks up at me in regret and shakes his head.

"It does matter. It's in the past now. I'm sorry about before," he whispers hinting at his sudden outburst and looks away. He is done opening up to me. As Tate turns around, I notice something I had not seen before. Multiple scars start at his neck and tangle their way down his back and under his shirt. Scars that could have only be caused by flames.