Hours after therapy, I limp into bed. Half asleep and staring at the wall, a solitary tear streams down my left cheek. I'm sick of this life, I'm sick of the pain, sick of the abuse, sick of pretending, most of all, I'm sick of not being me.

Aimee and I constantly have to hide this, this glitch. The "blessing" has proven to be anything but. All this programming bug has given me is the ability to feel the mental pain and show genuine, non simulated emotion. But what have I spent my time doing? HIDING ALL OF THIS! Mistress's offer of ending it quick seems to be getting more and more enticing.

The only thing stopping me is Aimee. Her being here is all that drives me. She is my only friend. My companion in life. I hate that she has to live with this curse. The defect in our coding has been the best and worst thing to happen to me.

Sometimes, I like to think, 'What if?'. What if we were programmed perfectly like everyone else? What if we blended in without trying? What if everything was normal? All of these questions course through my mind as I stumble through the day. My number one wish in life is for Aimee to have a better one. As soon as we can get out of here, we are going to bail. I don't know how we would get out or where we would go when we leave. I'll decode that when I need to.

I feel the bare mattress near my face. My tears had soaked the itchy fabric. Quickly, I try to dry it the best I can. Tears equal pain, pain is a feeling, and being able to feel would mean some kind of personality. Eventually, I drift off to sleep.

I jump bolt upright at the exact same time as everyone else. Falling in line, I march with all of my fellow Programmed. We reach the mess hall and stand in a perfect line. The rest of the day goes by just fine. I visit Doctor Novak again at the end of the day. Therapy isn't as painful today. 

I lay on my bare mattress and fall asleep. Halfway through the night, I am awakened by sirens and red flashing lights. "EVERYONE UP! THIS PLACE IS ON LOCK DOWN! EVERY ONE TO THE MESS HALL! NOW!" Mistress screams over the intercom. We get to the mess hall. I look for Aimee, but I can't find her. I start to panic. A pleasant-smelling gas begins to enter the room.

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A/N: Sorry for being gone so long. With school back up and my horrid writers block, it has been difficult to update. So, sorry for making you guys wait.