Time had passed, just as it always has. Like an old, exhausted snail with nowhere to go, the hours, the days, the weeks, the months, the year slowly slugged on, giving her no hope for a normal life. With each day, she was poked with more needles, prodded with more questions, and tortured with the constant experiments and tests to prove the worth she did not believe that she had.

"Naomi?...Naomi! Focus!"

Naomi snapped out of her trance and made eye contact with a very impatience Genevieve.

"We must go over the procedure you are about to go through and you HAVE to pay attention! It's important." Naomi lazily nodded her head as Genevieve proceeded to explain the upcoming experimental surgery and its procedure. Naomi did not like listening to her explanations; they always sounded painful and scary. She did what she always does; tune the thought of surgery out with happier thoughts, like playing with Paxton on the playground.

"-and you may feel a bit of grogginess and abominable pain after the procedure. Do you understand, Naomi?" Naomi nodded her head once again as Genevieve praised her and lead her through to confusing hallway just outside of her chamber. She hated the bustling traffic of adults in lab coats and soldiers holding their intimidating guns, the loud conversation and clatter of various tools and machines, and the bright, harsh lights that lined the ceiling of the facility. Finally, the turned into a corridor that looked very much like a hospital corridor. It was cluttered with various types of medical equipment, along with the occasional stretcher and bed. Finally, they turned into a room where men wearing scrubs, hair nets, and masks were waiting for Naomi's arrival. They all rushed to help her on to the bed as she watched Genevieve turn to a taller man with old, tired eyes and thick glasses who was readying a tray of various sharp tools that Naomi chose not to acknowledge.

"I trust you with this, Harlan. Don't fail me," she said, sternly.

"Of course not. I just don't understand why this procedure has to be done on a completely normal, healthy girl," he said in an annoyed, condescending manner.

"If all goes well, this can make her more than thirty percent psychically stronger. That is thirty percent more strength and power that would be passed down to future offspring, making our endeavors with psychic warfare all the more valid and useful. Sometimes you forget that I am the ringleader here, Dr. Wade. Take care of her. One abnormality and we will have a world of problems."

Naomi watched nervously as Genevieve exited the room without saying goodbye. She ignored the prick she felt in her arm from the I.V. that will slowly drip mysterious liquids in to her veins.

"Alright, Ms. Black," she heard the man referred to as Harlan Wade say with a sigh as he readied his tools. "Don't be nervous, this is a relatively easy procedure. Are you ready to get started?" She responded with a crooked nod. "Good! Now I am going to put this mask over your face, okay? I want you to take deep breaths and count down from ten. You will be out in no time."

With that, an oxygen mask with strange tubes and wires connecting to it was put over her nose. She did as she was told, taking deep breaths and counting down, slowly closing her eyes.

"10," she whispered, as she let her mind slowly get lost in the darkness.

"9," she saw a spark of light in the darkness that was slowly consuming her mind. She decided to ignore it.

"8," the spark got more violent, as it began to spark into flames.

"7," the flames grew and grew.

"6," as the flames got bigger, she heard people around her whisper in confusion, unsure of why she was not asleep yet.

"5," the flames were bigger and more violent than any wildfire this world has seen.

"4," she watched as the girl that visits her, long, dark hair, white as snow skin, and bloodied legs and a red dress, began to approach her.

"3," it seemed as if the girl was only inches from her face now.

"2," Naomi said, weak and nervous.

"1," the girl replied, in a groggy whisper as she pressed her palm to Naomi's forehead.

Naomi's eyes shot open. She saw the world differently. Everything seemed as if it were slower. Everything seemed shaky, and had a strange, demonic red hue to it. She saw her surroundings in three-sixty. She didn't feel as if she were herself. She had the same body, but different thoughts and emotions. She felt nothing but pure hurt, anguish and rage.

She unknowingly shot up in her bed, looking lifeless and dead. She felt raw power shoot through her body as all the doctors and nurses were simultaneously thrown across the room, all hitting the wall with a painful thud. Her mind throbbed as she started a ring of fire in the room, keeping all of the staggering personnel away from her. Still angry and somewhat confused, she let herself clumsily jump off of the bed. She staggered to the tray that contained the various sharp, crippling medical tools. They didn't seem so disturbing and scary anymore. They seemed more like simple toys.

She chose a long, thin, but deadly scalpel. She walked through the fire with ease, still staggering and getting vertigo from her strange three-sixty vision. She couldn't hear the alarms or the panicking of the people in the corridor. All she could hear was a loud whisper in her own head that she assumed to be the mysterious girl's. She immediately felt an obsession-like love for the girl, wanting to follow her every instruction. She felt as if her mind had become one with hers. Together, they would be unstoppable.

She staggered through the long, harshly-lit hallway that has troubled her so much her entire life. She ignored the panicking scientists and assistants and workers that it contained. If they approached her, she knew what to do. Instead, she pressed on, following the girl's instructions.

She came to a dead end with two hallways: one to the left and one to the right. The girl stood in between both, pointing to the hallway that made a sharp right turn. Just as she was about to follow the girl's finger, two groups of soldiers came from each hallway, shouting at her even though she could not hear over the deafening whispers in her ears. They weren't readying their guns, but she wasn't going to take the change, nor was she going to disappoint the little girl. With a simple lift of her arm, all of their backs began to slowly and painfully contort. She watched as their faces contorted into screams of pain, their eyes filling with tears of panic and agony. Finally, all of the soldiers were killed simultaneously; their bodies almost folded completely in half. She didn't feel guilt, nor sorrow, nor excitement or happiness. She felt nothing.

She continued down the hallways the girl instructed her to travel down, burning or contorting enemies that tried to stop her. As she did so, she took the scalpel and started carving into her left arm, not knowing what she was doing. She ignored the hot, stinging pain the knife provided and pressed on. Finally, she approached a large, metal door. She looked to her right to see the girl pointing to the metal door, instructing her to enter. She focused all of her energy on it and with a lot of work, pried it open. She staggered into the foreign room.

It was a strange room. It was a half circle in shape, the curved wall being a giant window. Behind the window were rows and rows of chairs as if it were a movie theater and the events that took place in the room were the main event. She looked to see two beds on each side of the now ripped metal door. In the corner was Paxton's mute brother, cowering from what he saw. Naomi looked down once she felt a familiar warm, thick liquid slosh around under her feet. She was standing in a puddle of dark, thick blood with pieces of gore and various bits of body. She followed the trail to see seven dead bodies; each looking as if there had been ripped apart. Standing in the middle of the carnage was her best and only friend. Paxton had an angry, evil expression on his face, completely drenched in blood. She knew that they were linked in the same way she was linked to the girl; and they were both linked to her.

She heard a small gust of air and then a sharp sting in the back of her neck. In shock, her breathing hitched as she dropped her scalpel. With her bloodied, mangled arm, she felt the back of her neck. She pulled out a sharp, bullet-like dart. She was tranquilized. She staggered to see two soldiers with tranquilizer guns, ready to take her and Paxton away. She fell to her knees as Paxton suffered the same fate. Her breathing got slower and heavier as her vision blurred and eventually blackened. She fell on her side into the puddle of blood, blacking out.

Naomi felt herself slowly wake up, coming back to Earth. She was still in the same hospital gown, stained with dried blood. She couldn't tell if it were from the soldiers she and Paxton slaughtered or if it were her own from when she carved up her arm.

She rolled over, her head and her arm throbbing in intense pain. She looked over to her steal door to hear two people arguing, almost screaming at each other. She recognized one to be Genevieve and the other to be the doctor named Harlan who conducted her surgery. Finally, Harlan stomped off as Genevieve hastily entered her room. Naomi lay in bed, the covers up to her nose. She stayed as motionless as possible, peering at Genevieve with dazed eyes.

Genevieve angrily flipped the little pink table she often used for coloring out of pure rage.

"GOD DAMN IT, ALMA," she screamed at the top of her lungs. "YOU CANNOT HAVE HER!" She pinched the bridge of her nose, obviously trying to gather her thoughts and get herself together. She looked over to see Naomi, watching her in bed. She sighed as she walked over to her bed and kneeled to talk to her.

"How are you feeling, Naomi?" Naomi shrugged in response.

"You had what we like to call a 'Synchronicity Event,'" she explained. "But it is important for you to remember that girl you saw was not real, okay? She does NOT exist." Naomi nodded her head, knowing that Genevieve was lying.

"Good girl. Now, leave that bandage alone, okay? You cut yourself up pretty badly. You need to let it heal. Just get plenty of rest, okay?" Naomi nodded once again. She watched Genevieve get up and walk out the big steel door. She rolled over back onto her back and lifted up her left arm, ignoring the shooting pain that caused. She examined the bandages. They went clear from the base of her thumb to the top of her shoulder. The curiosity was killing her. She had to see the cuts.

She slowly started to unwrap the many layers of bandages from her wrist. She slowly unraveled only to find more and more layers of cloth, yet she still pressed on. Finally, she got to a layer of cotton gauze. She pulled the soft, blood-soaked gauze from her skin to reveal the small cuts.

It looked as if a child had grabbed a red crayon a scribbled onto her arm. Within the scribbly mess were little, intricate symbols. Some were shaped like little swirls, others like foreign scrawling. When she saw her arm, she did not feel regret, fear, or shock. Once again, she felt numb to the terror and carnage that surrounded her. She laid down on her side once again as she smiled to the young girl who she now knows as Alma in the corner.

It was all just part of the plan.