"You may only answer, "yes", "no", "I am" or "I am not" to the following questions. Understand?" Mr Howell said, seating himself across the large, metal table across from John.
"Yes."
John sighed, looking around the small, hollow white room. The cold, steel table and two metal chairs the only items inside the walls. It was cold, and each whisper shouted around the room like an agonising echo. John looked up into Mr Howells dark green eyes, that eyed him as if he were no more than a specimen in a jar.
"Are you St John Allerdyce, of Melbourne Australia?"
"I am."
"Are you 19 years of age?"
"I am."
John looked back down to the table, his hands restrained behind his back for "safety precautions". Humiliation, more like. He slid down his chair a little, to lean back, the stitches in his stomach aching into him. He winced as the bandages wrapped around his middle, inched around, mercilessly pulling on the metallic stitching holding him together. He exhaled sharply, the oversized white jumper he had been given falling heavily around his shoulders.
"Are you aware of the temporary precautions concerning the disabling of your mutation?"
John's shoulders dropped, a desperate look clouding his eyes. Of course he was aware. He had never felt so useless, so desperate.
"I am." he said eventually, wincing under the smirk that played with Mr Howells lips. The dark man seemed to revel in Johns hopelessness, as if fuelling his further questions off the hate he inspired inside the fire starter.
"Are you aware of your sentencing to be held next month under the terrorism act?"
John suddenly looked up, his azure eyes squinted with confusion.
"No?"
Mr Howells cruel smirk morphed into an egocentric grin, spreading across his lined face.
"Your charges are as followed: Arson, Attempted Murder, Defecation of government property, Terrorism, Abduction, Treason and Breach of Mutant Rights."
John's jaw hung slightly open, his eyes wide. How? Why?
"I…" he started but couldn't find the words too express what he didn't remember.
"Oh, starting to regret are we?" Mr Howell snarled, leaning across the table, his emerald eye piercing through John's lucid stare. John slowly shook his head.
"I don't remember anything," he said quietly. His mind flicked back to his dream, the young woman and the child's face. Were they people he had killed? Coming back to haunt his every thought, moment. He thought of how beautiful the woman with the long black hair and amber eyes was, how she looked so gentle and kind. Did she have a family? Had he taken her, in cold blood, from people that loved her? And the little blue eyed, blonde haired girl. So young and innocent and full of hope and ambition, was she wrongly taken too an early fate, because of him?
"Did I kill people?" he asked, his voice shaking, as he tried desperately to blink back tears of pure, uncoated remorse.
"Yes. Hundreds. Thousands maybe."
John shook his head again, his mind clouding as he struggled to cope with the guilt that suddenly plagued him like a wave of smoke.
"One more question before you leave, Mr Allerdyce." Mr Howell said, pulling two pieces of what looked like white card from his jacket. John's mouth slid open as the two photographs were placed in front of him.
Staring up at him, were the smiling faces of a beautiful, pale woman with long black hair and amber eyes, and a little girl, with pink cheeks, blue eyes and blonde curls.
"Do you recognise these people?"
