Prologue
"Am I dead?"
The woman shot her a confused look.
"Excuse me?"
"Am I dead?"
She repeated.
"Is this hell?"
"Of course you're not dead!"
She chirped.
"Then why am I here?"
"Because the government wants to keep you safe!"
Claire rolled her eyes wearily.
She'd been kept in this facility for over a year now, not allowed to have contact with the outside world. They kept all the specials here. After she jumped off the Ferris wheel, the president had a break down and ordered that they were all rounded up and locked away. Of course, then all the families that held specials protested in the streets, and actually fought back. But this led to chaos, complete and udder chaos. People that harbored specials were shot. And then the person they were hiding came here; Claire wasn't exactly sure where here was, but she knew it was somewhere in the United States.
"When can I go home?"
That question had haunted her ever since she arrived.
Was she ever going to go back? Or was she to stay locked up here for all eternity?
"You can't do that dear."
She said.
"Why not? I never did anything wrong. I didn't ask for my power."
Her voice was dry and cracked, just a broken whisper.
"Oh, we know that!"
Her cheerfulness angered Claire.
"But the president wants you here."
"Does he want me to be experimented on, too? Like some damned wild animal?"
"Claire! You know swearing's not tolerated here!"
"No I don't."
She replied blankly.
"You won't tell me anything. I don't even know if my family's alive."
"It doesn't matter anymore, dear."
"It matters to me."
Claire had gone nearly the entire time she was here without talking. And when she did, all she said was:
Why am I here?
And they all answered the same way—because the president said so. Like he knew anything.
"Oh, look at that!"
The woman exclaimed, pointing to her watch.
"Time for your medicine!"
"Don't you mean drugs?"
"No, medicine."
She used the voice an adult used with small children.
"I'm not sick. I can't get sick. I can't die."
"Yes, we know. That's why we're trying to cure you!"
"You can try forever, but it'll never work."
"Oh, don't be so negative!"
She smiled big.
"We'll get you fixed soon enough!"
"There's nothing wrong with me. Just because I'm special doesn't mean I'm a danger to anyone."
"Claire. You know we don't use that word around here. Remember—we prefer the term different."
Claire's hands formed into a fist and she struggled helplessly against the binds on her wrist and ankles. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been outside; this room, this white room, was the only things she'd seen for months. There was no windows, no air vents. Just a bed with restraints and white sheets on it—and the only other thing there was the door the woman always used to come in here. She explained the first day she was to be her nurse; her caretaker. But she didn't even know her name.
She didn't know anybody's name, or who else was being held here.
All she knew is she was here—that, and only that.
"Here ya go!"
She handed her the five pills in a plastic cup like she did every day at noon.
"When can I eat?"
"You don't need to eat, dear! We have enough people to feed as it is, and since you're invincible, we thought we'd spare the snacks!"
She was smiling, but Claire saw through it.
"You're like a robot."
"Pardon?'
Claire was amused by her confusion.
"Or a child, maybe. You don't know better. You can't understand. So the second something new, something different—as you call it—"
She mocked.
"—comes into your life, you lock it away, test it, kill it. Out of sight, out of mind, right? And you say you want us safe, but let's be honest—you think we're mistakes. Useless. A waste of space. You want to kill us, and I'm sure the screams coming from next door aren't screams of joy."
"Claire!"
Her exasperated stare didn't touch Claire—not at all.
"You're wrong."
She was quickly putting back all the pills onto the silver cart she always wheeled around with her.
"Stop lying. Just stop. You're abusing us. You're experimenting on us. You're murdering us. We're innocent people that didn't want to be this way—we're afraid of ourselves enough as it is, and now you're trying to tell the rest of the world to fear us to when there's nothing to fear. You're cowards. You're too weak-minded to realize how ridiculous this all is. And you won't win; the bad guys never do. You can kill us all you want, but the truth of the matter is—the minute you die, heaven sure as hell ain't where you're going."
"Miss Bennet!"
She shouted, agitated.
"I'm going to have to ask you to remain silent and take your medicine!"
Claire ignored this and continued.
"You're a murderer. You know it, but you're too afraid to admit it. You're a murderer."
The woman began walking away with her cart.
"You're a murderer!"
Claire yelled, surprised at all the rage that was boiling to the surface.
"You're all murderers and YOU CAN ALL BURN IN HELL!"
The door slammed shut and caused Claire to burst into hysterical laughter after a moment of pure silence.
Her gaze drifted to the camera in the corner, the camera that she knew was being used to monitor her every move, her every breath.
"Did you hear that?"
She turned and stared straight into the lens.
"You're fools and one day you're going to die slowly and painfully; although it's more than you deserve. Murderers."
She spat the word out with disgust.
"You're all damned murderers."