Breathe in; breathe out, in, out, in, out.

Sometimes it feels as though my fingertips are skimming over silk, not quite cold but not quite warm either. The sound of my heartbeat fills my ears, the sound of my body working, living, and being. My lungs breathing, heart pumping blood around my extremities but most importantly, to my brain.

My brain.

That's why I'm here. There's something different about it. Something altogether scary about it.

I spend hours in here at a time, floating on top of the water or sometimes submerged in it with a big glass bowl over my head like a trapped goldfish. Papa says we're testing how far I can push my mind, where it might take me. I'm no good at this part though, I get lost somewhere in memories, not always my own. Ones that float through the water to me from someone or somewhere else.

What I'm good at is making the guards forget that they've already brought me my food, and making them think that they've been told by Papa to bring me candy for my supper instead of whatever boring meal was on the menu. Or making that woman guard, the one with the cropped blonde hair, forget her own name. Sometimes I can even make her say stupid things that make the other guards think she's losing it, or make her release the lock on my door so I can wander the halls for a little while until I get caught.

My name is Rita. I have a tattoo on my right arm that reads 009, but they don't call me Nine like they call the others by their numbers. I might have forgotten everything outside of this place I'm in, but I won't let them forget my name.