I've been here two years, others have been here longer. They call this place The Academy.
It is here in this compound that they keep all of the Projects, people like me who are special and different. They keep us hidden from the public, believing we pose a danger to society. Although, they do tell us it if for our own safety. If others found out what we could do we would be subjected to all sorts of torment as an abuse of our powers. I'm grateful that they keep me here where I'm safe from others and others are safe from me, but I hate not being able to live a normal life.
As one of their Projects, I have learned to live by their militarian lifestyle, no combat, though, just discipline and a strict schedule. Rules to follow and live by. They believe us to be too dull to retain information or too inept to comprehend what is being said. With most of the Projects this is true, there were a few exceptions, myself included.
I have the unfortunate ability to remember everything, I'm not sure it is one of my powers so I tend to exclude it from the list. It was helpful in school, trying to remember all the dates in history and formulas in math, but not when I want to forget my mother's face as she was practically torn in two as she protected me. Or the pale faces of the emotionless men creeping toward me, guns drawn, as I cowered in the corner crying. The thing is, I knew how to fight, I still do. I had the ability to free myself and my mother, but all I could do was stand there, shocked – frozen – and let the men sedate me before dragging me back here.
I try to not to think about that night. It's a horrible memory, sickening, really, full of regret and "if only's." The main one being "if only I had fought back…"
It was my fault.
It is my fault. It's my fault my mother is dead. It's my fault for being here.
We'd stopped for a few days to rest before continuing our run from the government. I'd let slip one of my abilities on a classmate who was attempting to feel me up, Jesse. Jesse had been trying for months to get me to go out with him. Due to my unique condition, I didn't think it would be wise to date a normal human. I'd tried once but I quickly realized it wasn't going to work. Since then I'd only tried relationships (dating or friendships) with the very few unique individuals I had come across.
After a few months, he got tired of waiting for me to say yes and decided to take matters into his own hands. If I didn't give him what he wanted, he was going to take it from me. He'd been staking out the girls' bathroom, waiting for me to be alone, so he could force himself upon me. That didn't happen, but apparently breaking a dick without touching it was impossible. Word got out after several doctors claimed his little pecker would always be crooked. Once word got out, the government came knocking. Mom sensed something fishy about the men and we ran.
They call themselves Guardians, I call them White Coats.
Yes, they do wear white coats – tacky, if you ask me.
They call us Projects, but I prefer the term 'Spirited.'
The only Projects left in this compound are those they deem to have shown "signs of intelligence." In other words, if you've spoken to your main researcher or other Projects you have shown a sign of intelligence. I haven't seen the remaining Projects in a few days, and I'm not sure who all is left, but our scheduled mingling session was to occur soon. I missed my friends, they're the best thing about being here.
Mason was already here when I arrived. His anger issues cause him to Hulk-out and it becomes even more problematic when you add possessive tendencies into the mix. He had thrown the car of the guy his girlfriend was cheating on him with into a building. No one was seriously injured but the next day he was ambushed, sedated, and brought here. He's better about controlling it, though he has seemed to take a liking to me which has caused some close calls. He's sweet – red hair, freckles, and light blue eyes. You would never guess that he possesses the strength of ten men.
Eddie was also here when I arrived, but Eddie's unique condition is pathokinesis, the ability to control emotions. I've never known Eddie to be upset about anything and he's only ever used his ability to calm agitation or bring joy. Yet, he had to have done something horrible to warrant his being here, though he has never told us.
The last of my friends is Christian, but I'm not sure if I can call him my friend. He got here six months after I did. He annoys the fire out of me, fitting because his whole thing is pyrokinesis. He's never used it on me directly but he has threatened me with it, forcing Eddie to step in and calm everyone down. Most of the time with us it's playful banter and witty sarcasm, but occasionally it escalates to more aggressive means of provocation.
Christian's abilities, he told us, had appeared out of nowhere. He believes it was in response to the stress of his parents being murdered in a robbery gone wrong. He'd tracked down the group of robbers and set their house on fire, burning them alive inside. He'd been running for a year before the Guardians caught him.
I'm the only Project that had more than one ability. I have yet to learn Eddie's or Christian's abilities, but I look forward to the day I can throw a ring of fire around Christian, see how he likes it. I have Mason's strength but not all his anger issues. Sure, I'm angry, but not like Mason. My anger is mostly toward myself. The few Projects the White Coats have come across that possess multiple abilities don't survive long because they can't control the power and the abilities end up consuming them.
The other Projects that don't show signs of intelligence have all let their abilities control them, frying their brains and making them unpredictable. The Guardians are slowly getting rid of these Projects. I doubt that they've done anything less than kill them, but one can hope that they have moved them to a livelier place.
The White Coats assume my multiple abilities stem from my genes. Apparently, I was the product of two other gifted people, which is impossible. My mother wasn't gifted. At least, I don't think she was. She would've told me, right? And I have no idea who my father is/was. Mom never talked about him other than to tell me he left and I never pushed to know more information about him.
I hide the extent of my intelligence and the strength of my abilities for fear that the White Coats will kill me. I speak enough to know they won't get rid of me, but not enough for them suspect I know too much. Not that they could actually kill me, I've died too many time to count. If they didn't kill me, or try, they'd start probing, again. I already hated being locked in a cage for all that pass study and observe, I didn't want more White Coats in here with needles, cuffs, and flashlights determining what makes me tick. They aren't gentle with their collection methods.
But then there is Dimitri. Just his name made me smile. He was my closest friend here at the Academy, ironic considering he is one of the men responsible for bringing me here in the first place.
Dimitri is the youngest White Coat to ever become a White Coat. Most are middle-aged men who constantly wore scowls that continuously carved frown lines into their stone hard faces. You apparently had to study for years to pass all the necessary tests and performance tasks before even being considered for the job.
Dimitri is approximately 6'7", with chocolate brown eyes, prominent cheek bones, strong jawline, gorgeously defined lips, wide shoulders, broad, muscular chest, and shoulder length brown hair, though he usually keeps it pulled back. He's twenty-four and his stature screams power and brute force, but he is a genius and an all-around nice guy. How someone as smart and kind as him wanted to work for the White Coats, I'll never know.
He's been assigned as my main researcher, and he is the only one who knows I'm somewhat intelligent. He doesn't know the extent, though. He keeps it out of his reports because he believes it doesn't make a difference to his overall conclusions about my health and well-being. I don't know why, though. Knowing how intelligent I am should be extremely important considering how much power I possess.
However, when I ask Dimitri why he doesn't inform the other White Coats he shrugs and responds, "They just don't need to know." The longer it has been kept out of the reports the more I wonder why, but I'm not going to keep questioning it. I'd have a lot more problems if Dimitri told the others. For now, I'm going to grateful.