The results came back today. Normal physicals are nowhere near as intrusive as this one is. The researchers will be studying my DNA and though I know they will be looking for a 'flight strand', the possibility of them somehow finding out they have changed me in some capacity haunts me. 

A 'flight strand' is a DNA sequence they believe indicates the ability to fly. I've learned this through days of probing researchers for information. I don't know how a 'move things with your mind' strand looks but I hope that if it's there they miss it. 

Life locked up in this room is difficult. I have too much time alone with my thoughts. I think about what Brendan might have said to me if my mother would have put me on the phone. I think about kissing Charlie and what that would mean for us when I'm out of here. I wonder if any researcher on this ship knows what happened to Micheal and John, if one of those guards that hauled me off found them before they could get to London. It's possible they're here. 

Most of all, I try to imagine what Aaron would do if he was in my place. I try to conjure up his level of optimism and resilient joy. I think of how he would strategize for the upcoming break out despite the changed circumstances. When I come up with a picture of him living all this out, I conclude that I do know him in a lot of ways that count. He'd stay optimistic until the very end. 

Controlling my powers is child's play because during the past few days, I've felt no extreme emotions. I count this as weird considering where I'm at. By the time it's been a week, I begin to suspect there are sedatives in my food. I skip a meal one night and suddenly I'm having night terrors. It's definitely the food. It explains why I have yet to hear a tantrum from one of the kids' rooms. 

That is until today. 

Researcher Hansen is walking me to a lab room which makes me think I'm going to get another shot. If I'm getting another shot, it must mean my physical results were clean. I hold on to that hope. 

"It's kind of messed up that you people have me locked up in a room with nothing to do. Could I at least get a magazine or something?" 

Hansen scratches the stubble on his chin. He's young - fresh out of university I'd guess. "You like crossword puzzles?" 

"At this point, I love them." 

"Then I'll slide you some crossword puzzles." 

I wrinkle my nose. "Slide them under my door? It's not like they're drugs and even if they were - don't you guys love drugs around here?" 

"What are you implying?" 

"You put sedatives in the food." 

He shrugs, his lab coat swinging like a flag at the slight movement. It's far too big for his petite frame. "I don't make the rules." 

"You just follow them." 

He pauses like he's contemplating something. I never hear what it is because someone is yelling. 

A figure rounds the corner and charges straight at us. He's pumping his arms like a trained runner, slipping through Hansen and I. Two of the guards I had seen days ago are pursuing him. Hansen and I flatten ourselves against the wall to avoid getting run over. 

I don't get what the boy is trying to accomplish by running. We're surrounded by water. Still, I admire how hard he's fighting. I've never seen someone so determined. 

A guard tackles the boy. Up close, I see he has scars running diagonally across his face and neck. His skin is tinted a faint green like he's sea sick. The guard tries to pin his flailing limbs down but the boy is a powerhouse. There's no chance he's been eating his sedative coated meals. 

"They're going to kill me!" he yells when he catches my eye. "Help!" 

The guard lifts the boy up a bit just to slam him back down. I wince. 

"What does he mean?" I look at Hansen who is chewing his lip. 

"They're going to cut me open! They think they're serum worked and they're going to cut me open!" 

"That's not true, Ruslan," Hansen says. "Based on the symptoms you listed last night, we found your appendix is going to rupture. We are trying to help you." 

"Liar!" The anguish on his face is impenetrable. He somehow wiggles his way out from underneath the guard with his taser in hand. The guard is quick, disarming him with a painful looking arm twist that sends him bending backwards in an attempt to alieve the pain. 

The guard has him detained already but he kicks the teen below the knee. His partner slams the kid into the wall and when I see blood splatter I scream.

With his limbs unavailable, Ruslan gnashes his teeth in the air as if to bite the guards. Then I realize the story Hansen told me at the start of my time on the Jolly Roger was true. Nakpuna's pinky was bitten off and now I know who did it. 

When I made a comment about the missing appendage under my breath, Hansen said his coworkers gave credit to 'crocodile boy'. He said no matter how much time he spent on the water, he never overcame his sea sickness. This gave him a sickly green color that only made him more crocodile like when Nakpuna made the grave mistake of being in the same room as him. As soon as Ruslan knew he was the man responsible for all of this, he ripped his finger off with his teeth. 

It occurs to me that the blood stains on Nakpuna's lab coat may be his own. 

Hansen tries to grab my arm as I rush over to the guards. They're beating Ruslan senselessly. Each time their hands come away from him, there's more blood and fresh bruises. He's hardly moving anymore. They're going to kill him. Regardless of if what Hansen said was true or not, the guards are going to kill him. 

I yank the guard off of him and he shoves me back. He looks me straight in the eye while he kicks Ruslan in the gut as if to remind me of how powerless I am. 

I lose it. 

I strike my hand out and my cover is blown. The guards go flying back, flipping like gymnasts in an antigravity room. They knock into each other and hit the back door of the hallway. 

There's silence in the eye of the hurricane. Everything is perfectly still for a fraction of time. No one moves and no one says anything. 

Then Hansen is running for some kind of panic button on the side of the wall. The guards yell into their walkies and Ruslan slumps against the wall, smiling at me with blood covering his teeth. 

Alarms start blaring and lights flash. 

"You're the real deal . . ." Ruslan trails off as he doesn't know my name. 

"Dovie," I finish. 

He coughs, blood sputtering onto his shirt. "Well, it was nice knowing you, Dovie. You're done now." 

The guards approach me and since I've already made my powers known, I hold them back. They push against the invisible force field of my strength to no avail. I glare at Ruslan. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You'll get the Tina treatment," he says with a thick Russian accent. 

"Tina? So she's here? She's on this ship?" 

He nods. "And I bet she wishes she was dead." 

Ruslan suddenly gasps and before I can figure out what he's reacting to, I feel a sharp pain. I reach for the source and find Hansen's hand plunging a needle into my neck. I don't even have the time to turn around. My vision darkens around the edges and the boat rocks dangerously beneath my feet. 

This time, when I fall, I don't see any stars. I'm met with a complete absence of light. 

+++ 

When I come to, I expect to be chained up or surrounded by kryptonite. I imagine that every researcher is tripping over themselves at the discovery, assuming that since Tina they haven't seen anything like it. My stomach flips at the thought that Ruslan might have been right about the researcher's intentions to cut him open to get a better understanding of whatever they did to him with their latest injection. Not only do I worry for him but I worry for me. It's like when you're on an airplane and the instruction video tells you that in case of an emergency, you should help yourself first. I can't get him out if I'm strapped to an operation table. 

There are no chains and no kryptonite in my cell. Nothing has changed at all. I suppose they didn't need to provide any more cautionary measures. It's not like my powers will help me escape. They just have to worry about what will happen to them if they step into the same room as me as Nakpuna did a few days ago. If there are cameras in here - which I am almost certain there are - they'll be watching more closely from now on. 

The Tina treatment. 

The phrase was laced in dread. I don't want to imagine being trapped on this ship for years with no hope of getting out. No matter what the researchers were doing to try and replicate or fix the powers they had given her, I think the stagnation of it all must hurt her the most. Like Aaron said, soon she will have spent more of her life here than out there. Forget Neverland fading away from memory, the concept of a normal life is fading from hers. 

I can't say I regret exposing my powers. If I hadn't, Ruslan would have died. My goal is to save everyone from Nakpuna. I couldn't watch as one of his victims was senselessly beaten in front of me. When I looked at Ruslan, I saw Luka, Shawn, Logan, José. I had to save him. I just had to. 

If only the insider would communicate with me. It would be risky but I need to know if the plan has changed since we are out at sea and how. I want to know if the day count to when we'll put the plan into action is long or short. Maybe I've only further screwed things up with my powers but I pray that the insider doesn't give up. We can still salvage this. I know it. 

There's a sliding glass window in the corner of my room. It only opens from the outside and operates similar to a movie theater ticket booth, only it's used to deliver meals. I'm so wrapped up in my own thoughts, twirling the acorn in the air with my powers because the secret is out, that I don't see which researcher or custodian drops it off this time. 

I pick up the tray of food. The meals model those health posters you see in the nurse's office in school. It's mostly veggies, a sliver of meat, and an even tinier portion of carbohydrates. It's so charming how in the midst of injecting us with poison they make sure we have 'healthy meals'. They must really care. 

I'm prepared for this meal to be loaded with sedatives after today's stunt but I'm too hungry to care. When I lift up the plate I feel a soft surface beneath it. My fingers dance around it until they find sticky tape. I pull and off comes a paper. Figuring that the cameras are most likely aimed at my bed and the rest of the room, I walk over to the shower. 

I open my hands and unfold the looseleaf. Written in thick sharpie are the words: Tomorrow. It's time.

Adrenaline rushes into my bloodstream. This has to be a direct reaction to the revelation of my powers. The insider must know that there isn't much time for me left. Soon, they'll keep me under maximum security and constantly be dragging me out of my cell for more tests like they do with Tina. With all the researchers on top of me, staging this breakout plan will be immensely harder. 

This is a race against time now.

Vote and comment! *narrows eyes at specific reader (you know who you are)*