A door slams and my eyes shoot open. The world is tilted sideways and my mouth is dry. I push myself up and look around. We're parked at a gas station. Aiden is at the pump, tapping his fingers on the bed of the truck to a tune I can't hear. A wet patch of on his jacket catches my attention.

Please tell me that's not what I think it is.

I open the passenger door and jump out. "You didn't wake me up?" I ask angrily.

"You needed some sleep," he says.

I slam the door as hard as I can. Aiden frowns and then reaches in his back pocket and pulls out some cash. "I already paid for the gas. Why don't you buy us some snacks for the road? You best use the bathroom too while we're stopped."

I take the money from him and look at the store. I don't feel safe about going inside. "Is that wise?"

He shrugs, "I doubt this old place even has a radio. Besides, we're not in the woods anymore. People will see us either way. We just have to hope we don't look terribly conspicuous. If you walk in like you have nothing hide people won't usually suspect that you do. It's not like we have many choices anyway."

The place is empty except for us and through the glass I see a lone woman sitting behind the counter smoking a cigarette. "It seems I'm taking a lot of risks these days," I tell him.

Aiden tilts his head and I watch the numbers slowly roll higher. It's an old machine and the gas is taking a long time to pump. "What do you mean?"

I stuff my hands into my jacket to keep my hands warm. "I don't know. I guess I thought I was a careful person and you'd think I'd learn but it seems like I can't stay away from people. I know what humans are capable but and yet I hold out and keep hoping for the best in them." I push off the truck and wave my hand, dismissing the thoughts. "Anyway, I'll get some food."

The store smells of cigarettes and despite how the smoke scratches my throat I force a smile at the lady behind the counter. She smiles back and I go use the bathroom in the back. I don't let any part of my body touch the toilet seat. I flush with my foot and wash my hands. The paper towel dispenser is empty. I look around to make sure no can see even though the bathroom is empty. I count my breaths and focus on the water clinging to my fingers and picture it all dripping off, leaving my fingers dry. I hold that image in my mind and keep counting like Aiden taught me.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Then without me asking or moving a muscle the water drips into the sink and my hands are left dry. I smile and look into the mirror and my own face surprises me. I am amazed how a person can change in such a short time. Gone is the young awkward youth that fell off a cliff. My hair is uneven and darker than I remember it being, still short from being buzzed but growing out in uneven lengths around my chin. My face is pulled tight and my body thinner than I ever remember being, scars cling to every inch of skin that is exposed. The smile slowly disappears from my lips as I stare at the stranger before me.

I reach up and press my fingers to the glass. Even my eyes seem darker that I remember, once a light almost milky brown they look black under the florescent lights, as if the time under the Handlers literally drained the light from my body and soul. "Adie," I whisper. My name doesn't fit my face anymore.

This is what they've done to you.

This is what I've done to myself.

"Adie?" There's a knock on the bathroom door. I pull away from the mirror and open the door. Aiden stands outside, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other hangs at his side.

"The paper towels are out," I say and brush past him. I don't give myself the chance to look at the damp spot of drool on his shoulder. Seeing Aiden brings sharp and painful memories. Each scar on my body begins to ache and I feel my chest tighten. I take deep breathes and browse the aisles to distract myself from the panic that threatens to spread. I grab sodas, chips, and a few bags of candy. I bring it all to the lady and she smothers her cigarette in a glass tray. I try not the cringe.

"Sixteen dollars and twenty cents," she says holding out her hand. I give her the cash and she hands me back the change. I don't wait for Aiden to come out of the bathroom. I climb into the truck and wait in silence.

"Good to go?" Aiden asks when he returns. I not my head and we pull out of the gas station and back onto the road.

"I think you should teach me how to drive so I can take a shift," I tell him. I used to ride with Henry into town, but he never let me drive. I know the basic idea behind it so I figure it can't be too difficult.

"I think that's a good idea," Aiden nods. "Next time we stop for a break I'll let you take over. Can you open a soda for me?" I grab one of the bottles out of the plastic bag and turn the cap until his hisses loudly. As we ride in silence I can't help but think about my parents and Doug. I wish I had known them, wish I had my own memories of them.

"Are you alright?" Aiden asks glancing in my direction.

I shake my head, staring at the dark road that stretches before us. "No." My voice comes out hushed. "I was just thinking...I don't even know how old I was when I was put in an orphanage. I don't even know if my parents are dead or if they were taken and locked up. What if they are in a facility like I was?"

Aiden is silent for a time. "Why don't you tell me your story?" he asks.

"There is no story," I say, my words bitter.

"I still want to hear it," Aiden says.

"Hear what?" I ask.

"Everything," Aiden says. "I want to hear everything."

I look at him. "You're sure you want to know?" I ask serious. I'm not sure anyone could understand what I went through, but Aiden is probably the only person that has a chance at understanding.

"Yes," he nods.

I let out a breath, leaning my head back against the seat. "Well, I guess that means my story starts with the ocean..."

Aiden doesn't say a word. I weave together the individual strands of my story and when I finish there is a nothing but a web of pain and uncertainty. The truck is silent and stale. It stays that way for almost a half hour.

That boy saved your life, a voice tells me. I let out a begrudging sigh, after retelling my story I cannot deny the roll that Aiden played. I glance over to him. He stares intently at the road, his eye brows knitting together then pulling apart every few minutes. The condensation from the soda bottle long since disappeared and left a wet spot on his jeans where the bottle is snug between his legs. His neck and lips have grown rougher and darker in the past few days. With the hinting of the beard he looks older, more of a man and less of a betrayer. I rip my eyes away his face and stare back to the road.

"You are very brave," he says quietly.

"Maybe," I shrug. "I hardly know what that word means anymore.

Aiden rubs a hand along his chin like he's trying to scratch away the growing beard. "There's something you should know," he says.

"What?" I ask evenly. Something is bothering him and somehow I know this has everything to do with me. He heard something in my story that made him uncomfortable.

He licks his lips. "We Misfits are not made equal. When the time comes and our brains develop and our power shows itself, the water determines our strength."

"I don't understand," I say confused.

"When my power first came to me I was swimming in a lake that was fed by three rivers and I am the strongest that they've trained. When the Handlers interviewed you they asked you about the flooded river, right? When your guardian was in danger and you saved him. But just now you said that you felt the connection when you were drowning in the ocean. Don't you get it, Adie? The Handlers thought your power came to you that night in the river, but it didn't. It came to you in the ocean, right?"

"Yes," I swallow.

Aiden breathes softly. "The stronger the water the stronger the connection," he says slowly.

"What are you trying to say? That I'm—" I swallow hard.

"What I'm trying to say Adie is that you have the potential to be the most powerful Misfit I've ever seen. If the Handlers had known the truth of your origin they probably would have killed you. I don't think they would have even tried to break you," he explains.

We are silent a long time as I process his words.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I just thought you had the right to know," he tells me. I nod." I have to piss. Do you think we could spare a short break?" Aiden pulls the soda bottle out from his legs and puts it on the floor.

"I could use a break too," I say and he pulls off the road and puts the truck into park. There's nothing but woods for miles. I get out and stretch my legs while Aiden disappears into the trees I am left to stand next to the truck. I turn and walk into the woods to relieve myself.

Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red.

Lights illuminate the woods and washes over me. I turn toward the road, through the trees I make out the car that pulls up behind the truck. Cops.

My stomach is pressed against a tree before I can think to react. I press myself to the tree and peek through the branches. I can hear Aiden talking to an officer. It's not a Handler but it's still a potentially dangerous situation. "This isn't good," I whisper to myself.

Through the trees I can see the cop nodding his head. He looks serious but he hasn't gone for his cuffs or gun. I can't make out what they are saying but Aiden seems to be keeping his cool. My vision flips and I reach out, connecting to water as I push toward Aiden. Finally I feel his consciousness through the connection.

What do we do?

You're asking me?

You're the professional, I remind him.

I'm working on it.

Well work faster.

I tuck myself behind the tree as flashlight shines into the woods and disappears. "I thought I heard something," I hear the cop say loudly. I turn back at the road again. The cop is pointing into the bed of the truck. My heart stops, he's seen the gun and the supplies, more than one person needs.

Then it hits me.

I'm a Misfit.

I don't have stand here and watch or wait for Aiden. I start to count my breaths. The water drops from the branches like rain. The first droplet hits the shoe of the cop. I close my eyes and all at once I'm inside the cops head. The water in his body and brain reverberate as it responds to my presence. I hear the cop as though he and I are the same voice.

"Seems a bit much for one man, you sure do you don't have anyone with you?" he asks.

"It's just me. I'm meeting up with some friends though, going hunting for a few days." It's a clever little lie, but I know it's not enough. I see the officer's thoughts as if they are running through my own mind. He's seen the litter in the cab and the separate bags, someone else was traveling with him. The cop thinks about the bulletin that was sent out from central about two fugitives, Misfits. Aiden and I's face flashes across his mind and I almost lose my concentration. I almost lose the connection. I fight to regain my focus.

I keep counting my breaths and I block out the thoughts of the cop and form my own. I push my focus into the connection. I picture the water pulling at the memories as if they were tangible strings and I picture myself tossing them into a dark hole in his mind.

Aiden gasps and I open my eyes quickly.

The cop is collapsed on the ground at Aiden's feet. I run to the road to meet him

"Are you alright?" he asks. I nod and stand over the cop. I stare down at his face. There is no expression or pain, no sign of life. I turn around and bend over the ditch. The soda I drank earlier burns its way up my throat. What did I do? What was I even thinking?

You weren't thinking that's the problem.

Just shut up and leave me alone.

What were you expecting to happen? You think just because Aiden starts teaching you how to focus that suddenly things are just magically going to fall into place?

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," I say to myself.

"Adie?" I spin around, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. Aiden looks at me worried and reaches a hand toward me, as if he means to catch me if I start to fall or grab me if bolt like a spooked horse.

I take a shaky breath. "I'm fine," I lie.

"No you're not. You're as pale as a corpse," he says.

I look at the cop. "Shit," I cuss under my breath and hold a hand against my mouth. But only my words come out, there's nothing in my stomach. "What did I do?"

"What do you mean? Do what Adie?" He stares me down, his eyes hard and calculating and takes a step forward. He drops to his knees and presses his fingers to the cops neck.

I shake my head. "I didn't..." I look at the cop again. Please don't be dead. Please. Please, don't be dead. Just don't be dead.

"He's alive," he says after a moment." There's some relief, but not much. "What did you do? Adie, look at me." Aiden stands and grabs my shoulders. He shakes me hard with both hands. His grip is firm and I meet his eyes. "What did you do?" he repeats.

I open my mouth, but the words seem to have lost their way in my throat. I shake my head again and he shakes me harder. "Tell me Adie. What. Did. You. Do."

"I don't know," I manage. Tears slip down my cheeks. "I don't know." I'm a dangerous Misfit just like Mr. Handler said. It's all true. My chest is tight. I can't breathe. I'm having a heart attack, I realize suddenly. I'm having a heart attack. I start to shake, tears stream down my face. I can't breathe. Aiden grabs my face with both his hands and forces me to keep my eyes on him. "Adie, I need you to count. Do it now, just like I showed you, breath and count," he says gently but keeps his hands firmly on my face. "Count, Adie. Just breathe, one at a time."

Onetwothreefourfive.

"That's right, keep going. In and out," Aiden encourages.

Six.Steven.Eight.Nine.Ten.

"Slow down now, Adie. Focus," Aiden says. I feel like I'm going to pass out. I'm dying. I'm going to die. Fear seizes my throat but I listen to Aiden's voice and focus.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

"Good, deep breathes now."

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

"I'm OK." I manage after some time. "I'm OK."

"Good, now tell me what you did," Aiden says.

It takes me eight tries to get the right words out of my mouth before Aiden finally understands. "Why would you even think that's possible? Where did that idea even come from?" he asks incredulous. I can tell his angry. He doesn't even try to hide it. I shake my head. I'm sit in the passenger seat now with the door is open. My feet hang over the edge but I feel safer here somehow, less exposed. Aiden stand in front of me, he hasn't moved since he started on calming me down.

"I guess I must've thought that if my parents could plant memories, what's to say I couldn't take away memories?" I tell him.

Aiden sighs long and deep like he's been arguing with a child. I guess that would make me the child. I want to hate him for it but I can't bring myself to blame him. I have been acting like a child. I was naive to think I could do something like this so soon. To think I could ever do something like it was stupid and dangerous. My mistake might have put all of us in danger now.

"What your parents did Adie, it's unheard of. I'm not even sure it is possible," Aiden says after a minute.

"But they did," I say. "I'm proof of that."

"I know but you have to realize that I've never heard of anything like that before, they could be an anomaly among Misfits." He turns his head. "That cop could have died. Who knows what he'll be like when he wakes up or if even does? He could even wake up without remembering his name or how to speak. I know it's hard but you have to try to keep a lid on this. You have to learn or you're going to get someone killed and I know you don't want to do that. I know it's not who you are."

"Don't lecture me," I snap. His words hit a sensitive spot.

"Adie-"

"-no, you listen. Maybe your right, maybe I should have been more careful but I had to do something and I did. This is on my consequence and I'll live with it. I might even regret it but don't think for a second that it means you can stand here and pretend like your any better than me. How many people did you help the Handlers capture? How many times did you help them torture other Misfits? How many times did you stand by and watch? How many people did you kill?" His jaw tightens and his hands ball into fists. I nod at his reaction. "That's what I thought. I'll keep training for control but don't you dare speak to me like you're the better person, Aiden. As far as I'm concerned you're worse than any of them." I drop from the passenger seat and push Aiden aside. He doesn't move or say a word. He stares into the cab of the truck where I was sitting with a locked jaw and hands fisted.

I walk down the road until the darkness surrounds me and the lights from the vehicles are far behind me. I stop and stare up at the stars in the sky and take deep breaths to center myself. I almost killed someone today. Despite everything that's happened to me the prospect of taking a life terrifies me. I'm not a killer. Eventually I return to the truck. Aiden placed the cop back into his car and turned off the lights.

"Are you ready to drive?" Aiden asks.

"I don't think it would be a good idea right now," I respond stiffly.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for me to keep going," he argues. "It won't do either of us any good if I fall asleep. Please, Adie."

"Fine," I stay and slide into the driver's side. Before I do anything he has me adjust the mirrors and wheel so they are more to my level. Then he makes sure I know how the truck works and what everything does, he even explains what to do before he lets me turn the truck on.

I pull out onto the road slowly. Aiden give calm instructions and soon we're back on the road going at a steady speed. After an hour Aiden starts to relax when I've gotten the hang of it and after two hours he eventually falls asleep. His forehead pressed against the cool glass and his arms are folded across his chest.

The world is dark and quiet and I stare at road while the tires eat away the miles. I think of my parents and how they must have traveled all this way on foot. What will I find when I reach the cabin in the woods? Will it smell of pines? Will it still smell of wood smoke? Will it even bet here after all this time? I fear that I will find an empty space on top of a mountain and at all of this will just have been in my head that will have truly lost my mind. I am risking everything on a memory that may or may not be real.

For two days we continue on the road headed north. We don't talk. We just shrug and give short answers. He does well to stay clear of me. We're all exhausted. We have neck aches and back aches from the awkward sleeping positions but neither of us suggests that we stop and rest because after the first night it snows. We are running short on time. Winter is coming.

"We'll reach the mountains in the afternoon," Aiden whispers from the driver's seat, nursing a cup of coffee that's gone lukewarm. It's two in the morning. We don't have a regular sleep schedule and after constantly rubbing legs together for two straight days we're both irritated and sweaty.

"I think maybe it would be wise to stop and get a room for the night," I finally say.

"You think so?" Aiden asks. The snow has been falling on and off but it's cold enough for it to stick. Slowly, it's begun to build and it will only get worse as the days continue shorten and the temperature steadily drops.

"We could use a good shower and a decent night's rest if we're going to be traversing mountains in the snow and cold." I don't add that I don't think I can't stand sitting next to him for another hour. "Do we have enough money for a room?"

"Yes," Aiden replies instantly. "Doug had a wad of cash in the pack for us. I've got plenty."

I yawn. "Then feel free to stop when you find a place. I'm going to shut my eyes for a bit." It feels like only seconds have passed when Aiden taps my shoulder. But when I open my eyes and look at the radio I see that it's been thirty minutes since our conversation. "What do you think?"

Through the snowflakes drifting down from the sky I stare at two story motel in front of us. He parked the truck in one of many empty spaces. There's only two other cars. "I think you should see if there's an available room," I say sarcastically.

Aiden leaves the truck running and steps out into the snow. He disappears into the office. I look at the beat up motel and swear that if I get bitten by a single flea I will flood the entire motel. It takes Aiden only a few minutes before he returns. I pull my backpack out from the bed of the truck. It's freezing and dusted with snow.

Aiden places a key in my hand. "Room 225," he says. "I'll be right night door at 224."

I look at the key. "I get my own room?"

"Figured you wouldn't want to share one," he shrugs.

"You were right," I nod and start making my way to the room. I pause a moment. "Thank you," I tell him begrudgingly.

"You're welcome," he nods and suddenly I don't care if there are fleas.

As tired as I am I go straight to the shower. I take off my shoes and I step into the hot water before I'm even undressed. I let the water wash over me and peel off my clothes. I leave them in a heap near my feet. I open a complementary bar of soap and scrub my skin raw. I use the entire bottle of shampoo and conditioner and work it through my hair. I clean myself until I'm red and wonderfully smooth.

With the soap that's left I scrub my clothes and wash them. I flip my vision and push the water back and forth through the fabrics until all the dirt and sweat is washed from the fabric. When I finish I sit on the floor of the tub and relish in the feeling of the water against my back. I sit there until the water runs cold and then I hang my clothes on the curtain rod and wipe the fog away from the bathroom mirror. I look different than I did in the gas station bathroom three days ago. Already my cheeks are less pale. But the scars are still there, wrapping around my neck and trailing down my collar bone. I reach up and trail my fingers along the indented skin and shiver, feeling the bite of the wound as if it were happening all over.

I look down at my body—covered with wounds that will never disappear. How long will I remember the pain? How long until I don't feel the burn and sting? I turn slowly and look at my back. Broad white streaks from Mr. Handlers whip crisscross my back. I look up and meet my own gaze.

I would show you a good time, Adie. I bet I'm the only guy who will ever give you that offer. Don't you want to know what it's like, at least once before you're sent off and quarantined for the rest of your life? I'll be gentle with you. Show you what it's like to be a real woman.

Tears spring to my eyes as the memory of old words cut me deeper than I would like to admit. I hate them. Tyler. The Handlers. The soldiers. My body. I even hate myself because I wish I could have been touched, gently, lovingly, at least once in my life.

I hate them.

I grab a towel and cover my body, covering my scars and shame. I pull the water from my hair and collapse into the bed. I pull the covers up to my cheek and close my eyes. The darkness reminds me of my cell and I reach over to turn on the lamp. But I pause, my eyes slowly adjust to and darkness surrounds me warm and soft. I am reminded of a different memory, a place where my mother and father spoke to me and gave me memories.