The world is ice. Hard. Cold. Unyielding. It freezes my blood, stiffens my fingers, and numbs my nose. When I breathe, it stabs my lungs. I am a corpse. I must be. Everything is dark, I am stiff, and there is no life to be found.

So why is your heart still beating and your lungs still asking for air? Don't be stupid Adie.

I moan and open my eyes, but there is still no light. I'm still frozen. My body locks and my stomach heaves. I crawl away from my sick. The ground is concrete and it scraps my bare calves and bites my stiff fingers. I shiver and grind my teeth. I my hands hit a wall and I use it to get to my feet. I breathe the cold air through my lungs and wait for my mind to pull away from the fog. My blood rushes down to my feet and a small amount of warmth makes its way through my body.

I feel along the wall, using it as a guide to try to figure out where I am. My fingers hit a corner so I turn with it. Halfway along this particular wall my fingers hit metal. My fingers feel along the outline...it's a door, a steel door with no handle from this side. I swallow, not liking the conclusions my mind is giving me. I continue to follow the walls. And when I count for corners, I know I'm in a concrete box, a box with a metal door that doesn't have a handle. A box that is cold. A box that I can't get out of.

I'm in a cell. I try to remember where I got sick, but I'm unlucky, my toes find it before I can try. I step out of it and go to the opposite corner. My toe knocks something metal and it tips over, the sudden noise hurts my ears. I bend down and reach out with my hands and I find it.

It's a metal bucket...and I know exactly what it's supposed to be used for. I cringe and put it in the corner closest to the sick. Best to keep anything that will smell on the opposite side of the room. I find the door again and sit next to it. I pull my knees up to my chest. But the cotton smock that they put me in barely comes to my knees, when I pull them to my chest it rides up, and the cold hits my thighs. I tug it down as best as I can and curl into a ball to conserve my body heat.

I'm a prisoner.

It takes a long time for me to accept that I'm trying to tell myself. My mind and body seem unable to comprehend and wrap around the fact that I'm actually in a prison. That I cannot simply stand up and walk into the sunlight. My freedom has been stripped away. I have nothing. No items, no artifacts, nothing to claim that I am a human being, nothing but this pathetic piece of clothing hanging off my shoulders.

I remember the electricity and the way they made my body jerk and shake. I slowly touch my skull where they had the needles. My hair is gone. What is left of it is smooth and short, like the hairs of a peach or the shaved coat of a small lamb. Thinking of sheep reminds me of Henry, so I don't think of sheep because thinking of Henry makes me sad. I don't have his jacket anymore. I don't have anything that was mine. There is nothing here to help keep me warm. No wool. No fire. Not even another human. Not even Trish's brother. I grind my teeth together again. Not that I would have ever wanted to share body heat with him. I'd rather freeze and die then think of him or see him again.

I clench my hands together. I was ready to die. I think of the ice shard, how it turned to water before hitting my heart. I want to kill that betrayer. He's a Misfit and yet he helps Handlers. What sort of sick minded human being is he attacking his own kind?

Then again, I fought back, when I said I wouldn't. I shiver and remember the power I'd felt. I've never felt that way before. The eight months I spent in the woods playing and experimenting with what I could do I've never felt so...overcome. No, that's a lie. There was a time when I felt that way.

I remember the day I connected with the water for the first time. I remember the ocean. That was power, even more than what I've ever felt before. If I close my eyes and think hard I can almost taste the salt on my tongue. What happened that day that made me like this? Was there really a virus, and if there is, what sort of virus gives a human the ability to control water? Why doesn't everyone have it? And if the virus supposedly messes with the brain and makes you insane then why do the Handlers fear Misfits so much?

There is only one answer that makes sense. It's all been a lie. Maybe there isn't a virus, maybe its cover up or r some government conspiracy. Either way, I stick with the small simple facts that I know to be true. My name is Adie. I can control water. I am an orphan. I am a Misfit. No matter what happens, these are things I know for a fact, these are things I must hold onto because deep down, somehow I know that I'm going to lose sight of things, and if I have nothing to hold onto.

I don't want to die, but if death means escape then I must be ready. Until then, I will fight. I will make sure that I do not go quietly. I force my mind to empty, to focus on thoughts that mean nothing. My body shuts down, and I fall asleep, shivering, cold, but very much alive.

The metal door screams and there is a flash of light. My head snaps up and I jerk awake. The room is illuminated by the small rectangle of light that comes from the door. I see the small pool of sick and the metal bucket. Then there is a hand through the door, it drops a tin bowl. The metal screams and the light is cut off. Just like that, quickly as it had come it is gone. I reach out slowly and carefully until my fingers find the bowl I bring my lips to it and eat. Its food, the consistency is mushy with small chunks but it's hot and I'm starving. I swallow fast and nearly choke but I can't stop until I've licked the bowl clean. I don't feel so much like a corpse anymore. The heat soaks my stomach and permeates into my blood and fingers. It feels good.

I spin the bowl between my hands in the darkness. I squat over the bucket. I spin the bowl. I tap it on the ground and try to find a rhythm. But there is no rhythm here, no music. So I spin is some more and when the small amount of heat from the food I ate disappears, I pulls my knees close and shiver. I start to trail through memories, and most of all, I try to remember my life before Henry and Gretchen's. I try to remember the orphanage. But all I can remember is Steven and the time I left him standing there, alone.

I wish I could see him again, even after all these years, even though we probably wouldn't recognize each other. Or even have anything in common, I would simply wish to hug him, and tell him sorry. I wonder if he's a Misfit, a real Misfit, or if he was deemed normal, and went on with his life. It scares me to think that he might have been in a place like this for a year before I even had my interview. Scares me to think that he might still be here, and then I think, how long will I be here for?

Will the test and torture me until I wither and die. Or will they keep me strong. Will they make it last for as long as possible and let me rot until I'm an old woman? I shudder, suddenly terrified of the future. What happens to me? What do they need us for? If we're such a problem, why not kill us? I shake my head remembering the small moments of being lucid on the table under those lights.

They were taking readings; they wanted to figure out...to find something.

There is a loud click and the door opens.I jump to my feet, the tin bowl rocks loudly on the floor then goes quiet. Two men enter my small room, I squint against the light. They hold their hands up to their nose when they see my pile of sick in the corner, then they look at me. "Turn around, hands on the wall." One of them has a gun. I turn slowly and place my hands on the rough concrete.

The man grabs my wrists and secures them with a plastic tie and secures a blindfold over my eyes. It's unlike any blindfold I've seen before. Soft thick pads conform to my eyes like eye patches and the band tightens above my ears and around my head.

He escorts me from the room, one hand tightly secured on my arm. My feet are bare and still frozen so I stumble often. I have no choice but to trust to man, who leads me, trust that he won't let me walk straight into a wall or down a flight of stairs. They don't say a word. Their boots are the only things that make noise.The man with the gun is behind us, I have no doubt that if I tried anything he is instructed to put a bullet in my back.

The blindfold does a good job keeping the light out. I can't see a thing, and I'm starting to get sick of it. I'm sick of being in the dark, sick of not being able to see or understand. I bring my shoulder to my face and try to push it off.

My body crashes against a wall and hand squeezes my throat. I can't breathe. I wiggle and wreath and kick but the hand tightens and I stop. "Try to take that blindfold off and there will be consequences. Trust me. I've seen a few try. Try it a few times and they'll eventually take your eyes and donate them. Do you like your eyes?"

His hand loosens and I take a breath and swallow. He can't actually be serious, they wouldn't take my eyes....would they? They don't seem me as a human being, so maybe they don't care what happens. He grabs my arm and leads me again. I grind my teeth together. I'm tempted to try again, why should I listen to him? He's a random guard. I've never seen him before. There is nothing there to make me trust him. But I can't help but feel that he's not lying, maybe he'd do it himself with a knife.

"My eyes are nothing special, go ahead and take them." I push my body against him and shove. Then I rub my shoulder against the blindfold, successfully pushing it off my right eye. I have just enough time to see that they are walking me down a hallway, one of the ones I passed on my way to where I found the betrayer, the ones that were labeled with a number and a letter. I'm tackled to the ground and a hand knocks my head to the side. The blindfold is pulled back down and tightened even more so it puts uncomfortable pressure on my eyes. He hits me again just for good measure.

"Every attempt to take it off will be recorded and reported. This is two attempts already and we've gone thirty feet. Keep this up and by the time we get to your destination you'll be without your eyes. You talk tough, but I've seen your kind before, give it a week. You'll understand your place here." He hits me again, and my head spins. He pulls me to my feet and drags me along. His fingers will leave bruises and yet I know that will be the least of my problems.

We walk for a few minutes and I have no sense of direction at all. Or how many turns we've taken or steps. I'm off to a bad start. A door opens and the smell and atmosphere changes. I hear machines whirring and people talking. "Here she is doc."

"Very good, put her down over there please."

I'm picked up and placed onto a table. Hands come from all directions, securing straps over my body, just like before. I start to struggle but I'm too late, the straps have been secured. I should have put up more of a fight, and not I'm cursing myself for letting them do this so easily.

"Are you going to put needles in my brain again?" I ask the room. The talking stops.

And male voice, the doctor, answers from somewhere close. "Not today."

"You should talk to her." That's the guards' voice.

The doctor snorts, "And you shouldn't be in this room. Thank you, but we've got it from here."

"Whatever." A door opens and shuts and the voices start up again in low hums and whispers. The machines beep and whir. I'm glad the needles won't be in my head again. The panic I felt before is slowly receding, maybe that was just a onetime test.

I know its wishful thinking.

A needle punctures the skin on my arm, I flinch but no one says anything, soon my body feels heavy, my brain slow. I can't form complete thoughts. I just remember being happy and relaxed. What was I so afraid of?

I sleep. I dream about nothing. I am nothing. It is bliss.

"Come on, that's it, wake up now." My eyes part, but I'm still blindfolded. I see nothing. "Have a nice rest?" It's the male doctor. I don't answer him. "Oh, so now you give me the silent treatment, fine, be that way."

He walks off and the machines in the room continue to whirr and buzz and beep. A few seconds later someone is attaching something round a soft to my temples. My heart rate picks up, but then the only thing that happens to me is I am hit with high pitched sounds. They go from low to high, deep to soft to almost unbearably loud.

The sounds continue for some time, each varying in level and intensity. And then the sound stops, and the pads on my temples are removed. "That wasn't so bad." I say.

"Indeed." The doctor says. Then I decide that while he's talking to me, why not try to get answers? I have nothing to lose.

"Will the virus kill me?"

The doctor laughs. So I try another, because I feel that his laugh was the answer.

"It's not real is it?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss anything with you."

"But you're still talking to me."

"Because I'm bored, and there is no one else to talk to."

"What am I then, a statue?" A lady speaks. I remember her voice from the time I was electrocuted. They must be partners.

"You may as well be." The male says, "You never give me what I ask for."

"Old pervert." She mutters and he chuckles.

"Ignore her."

"Ignore him more like." She says loudly. I can hear her pen hitting the paper from here.

"Why do you hurt me?"

They both don't say anything. I sigh, "So that it then isn't it? You get paid, and you don't think about what you're doing. You don't care, you probably see me like some pet, not living, or breathing, or thinking. Well let me tell you both something, you can do whatever you want to me with your machines. It changes nothing, I am a human being, and what you're doing is wrong. Not only that but you both disgusted me."

They still don't say anything so I stop speaking. Talking to them changes nothing, I'm still here, strapped to this table, a prisoner.

When I get back to my cell I throw off my blindfold and curl into a ball. My ears ring and when I close my eyes I feel a headache coming on. The sound at least wasn't painful like the electricity. I use the bathroom and I spin the bowl again. I try to pass the time, but there is nothing to do in the dark. So I just let my mind wander.

When the door opens I'm not sure how much time has passed. The guards enter, and see that I've discarded the blindfold."That was a mistake." The one says. He binds my hands, throws a sack over my head and then tosses me over his shoulder. My head spins from the rush of blood. He walks a ways, and then drops me onto the ground, grabs my wrist and cuts the plastic tie off. But he quickly replaces the plastic with thick metal bands that are attached to a chain. Every time I move my wrists I hear the chain clack and clink.

"So what, you put me on a leash?" I say, but there isn't a reply. I try getting the sack off but its secured around my neck. Then I hear the grinding of a lever and my wrists are pulled and tugged and soon they are high above me and they still go further until only the very tips of my toes and touch the ground. The pain is unbelievable, I feel as though my shoulders will pop from their sockets, and that the metal will cut right through my wrists. I yell out in pain, but then I bite down. I cannot let them know this hurts.

"See how you feel after you've hung there for a while." A door slams somewhere and echoes around the room. I must be in the place gymnasium size room, the place where I fought the betrayer. I remember the chains and the troughs of water and the tables full of instruments. I swallow. Torture. That's what this place is used for. Unlike the laboratory room where they strap me down, this is old torture. The kind meant to force a person to go beyond their ability to endure physical pain.

Another door opens then closes and there are footsteps on the stairs. They pause near the bottom, "Well, already getting yourself into trouble Adie."

I shudder. It's Mr. Handler.

"Not really, I just decided I'd hang out for a while and see what was going on around here." I don't feel nearly as brave as I sound.

"Oh is that how you feel about this?" He asks.

"Sure, I mean, great view, great room temperature, why else would I be here?"

I hear his footsteps move further away, "I heard you took off you blindfold after being warned multiple times."

"So you get reports about me? I feel special."

"That tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble." I don't feel the way I'm acting, but I'm scared. Truly scared, my mind is just trying to distract me, make me sound tougher so maybe I'll believe that I am.

Something slaps the ground, then there is a crack and fire burns against the undersides of my knees. I cry out and scream. But that's all that happens, he only does whatever he did once. But it's enough, my bravado is gone.

"A whip is an old and quite magnificent tool." Mr. Handler says, his voice closer now. "If you continue to take off your blindfold, I will personally see to it that your punishments get worse. And if it continues beyond that, I will personally carve out your eyes. You don't need them for what we'll use you for anyway, so remember that Adie."

Then his footsteps recede, and a door closes. I hang there, tears stream down my face. I'm in pain. I'm exposed, but most of all, I'm angry.

When the guards come back and lower me to my legs cannot hold my own weight. The two guards hold me between them and they take me somewhere to get my legs looked at. "Can't have you dying of infection." One says. A doctor looks at the wounds and cleans them out. It hurts almost as much as receiving the lash did. They take me back to my cell, and put the blindfold back on, I don't remove it. Instead I lie down and cry, the blindfold soaking up my tears.