We run to the road to meet Doug. He looks startled and relieved when we burst out of the trees. "Are you alright?" Aiden asks Doug. He nods.

"A little shaken but fine...did you...?" He waves to the cop but Aiden is already shaking his head.

I stand over the cop and look down upon his expressionless face. I hold a hand over my mouth and bend over the ditch. The wonderful soda I had before burns its way back up my throat. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What did I do? What was I even thinking?

You weren't thinking that's the problem.

Just shut up and leave me alone.

Honestly though. 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."

"Adie?" I spin around, wiping my mouth. Doug and Aiden both look at me worried. Aiden has one of his hands out, as if he means to reach for me if I fall.

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

"No you're not. You're as pale as a ghost."

I look at the cop. "Shit." I hold a hand against my mouth, but I don't feel anything come up. Just my words, "What did I do?"

Doug leans over the cop and Aiden snaps his attention back to me, he takes a small step forward. "Do what Adie?" He stares me down, his eyes hard, calculating.

I shake my head. "I didn't..."

Doug touches the cops' throat, holding his fingers there, while my own heart pounds. Please don't be dead. Please. Please. Please. Don't be dead. Just don't be dead.

"Adie look at me." Aiden grabs my shoulders and shakes me hard. I meet his eyes. "What did you do?"

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

"He's not dead," Doug announces. I feel relief, but not much.

"I don't know." Tears slip down my cheeks. I'm a monster. "I don't know." I'm dangerous. I'm a Misfit.

Aiden grabs my face with both his hands and forces me to keep my eyes on him. "Adie, I need you to count your breaths. Do it now."

Onetwothreefourfive.

I'm hyperventilating. Calm down.

Six.Steven.Eight.Nine.Ten.

Slow it down Adie. Focus.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

Good, deep breathes now.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

"I'm OK." I manage.

"Good. Now tell me what you did."

It takes me eight tries to get the right words out of my mouth before Aiden understand what I was attempting. "Why would you even think that's possible? Where did that idea even come from?"

I shake my head. I'm sitting in the passenger seat, the door is open and my feet hang over the edge but I feel safer in here somehow. Aiden stands in front of me, behind the truck Doug is situating the cop in the driver's seat, hoping that maybe he'll believe that when he wakes up he'll find that it was all just a terrible nightmare. A part of me wonders if he'll wake up at all. We told Doug that I knocked him out, we left out the details.

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

Aiden sighs long and deep like he's been talking to a child who doesn't understand.I guess that makes me the child. I want to hate him for it but I can't seem to blame him. I have been a child. I was naive to think I could do something like that.

"What you're parents did it's...unheard of. I'm not even sure it is possible."

"But they did it," I say.

He nods. "I know. But you have to realize that no one else has ever tried it before, that I know of. It could be dangerous." He turns his head and looks at the cop car where Doug is, "That man could have died. Who knows what he'll be like when he wakes up, if he even does at all? He could be missing memories. He could even wake up without remembering his name Adie. I know you're powerful, I know it's hard but you have to try to keep a lid on it. You have to learn to be reasonable or you really will be a dangerous Misfit like they claim."

"Don't lecture me," I snap.

"Adie-"

"-no. You listen to me. Maybe your right, maybe I should have been more careful, but I had to do something and I did. This is my consequence and I'll live with it. I'll even regret it, but don't think for a second that it means you can stand here and pretend like your any better than I am. 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?" His jaw tightens and his hands ball up. I nod my head. "That's what I thought. I'll keep learning to focus. I'll keep training to better myself but don't you dare speak to me like you're the better person."

I slip off the passenger seat. Aiden doesn't move or say a word. He stares into the cab of the truck, jaw locked, hands fisted. "Doug?"

"He's fine." Doug shut the cop car. "Still breathing. Still sleeping, but he's alive."

I nod. "Good."

"Everything OK? I heard you two arguing."

"It's nothing."

"It didn't seem like nothing, what were two doing in the woods anyway?"

"I said it's nothing."

Doug holds up his hands. "Alright." We leave the cop in his car and go back to the truck. "Ready to drive?" he asks Aiden.

Aiden shakes his head stiffly. "I don't think it would be a good idea right now."

Doug frown, looking at his hands. I can tell he's not feeling up to driving either. "Well I do." I hop into the driver's side. "You can sit in the middle and teach me now, better I learn sooner rather than later anyway. Besides, if you need a break, it will be safer if I drive."

"I'm not sure you're OK to drive either," Doug says honestly,

"I need something to take my mind off things. This will be good for me."

He gives in and before I do anything he has me adjust the mirrors and wheel. Then he makes sure I know how the truck works and what everything does, he even explains what I'll do before I even have the chance to turn the truck on.

I slowly pull out onto the road. Doug talks to me calmly and soon, we're back on the highway. After an hour Doug starts to relax, after two hours Doug falls asleep, his head tilted back on the seat. Three hours later, Aiden presses his head against the glass and stares out into the darkness. Thirty minutes after that, he closes his eyes.

No one says a word. The world is dark and quiet. I stare at the road. The tires eat away the miles. I think of my parents, how they must have traveled all the 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? Or will it be burnt to the ground? 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.

Two days. Two days we keep on the road headed north. Aiden doesn't talk. Not a single word, not to me anyway. To Doug he just shrugs and gives one word answers. We're all exhausted. We're grumpy. We have neck aches and back aches. But none of us even suggest we stop and rest, because on the first night, snow begins to fall from the sky.

"We'll reach the mountains in the afternoon." Doug whispers from the driver's seat, nursing a cup of coffee that's gone lukewarm. It's two in the morning. None of us have a regular sleep schedule. And after touching legs for two days, we're all starting to smell.

I rub my eyes, pushing Aiden's hand away from my leg. It flops back into his lap and he gives a soft snore. "I think...I think maybe it would be wise to stop and get a room." I finally say.

Doug glances at me. "You think so?"

The snow has been falling on and off, but it's been cold, cold enough for it to stick and not melt. Slowly, it's begun to build, and it will only get worse.

I nod. "We all need to shower, and get a decent sleep if we're going to be traversing mountains in the snow and cold. It would be good for morale too; I'm not sure how much longer I can stand being next to both of you."

Doug smiles. "To be fair, you've been sitting."

I close my eyes and shake my head. "You've just proven my point...do we have enough money for a room for all of us?"

"Yes," Doug says instantly. "I've got plenty of money for us, don't worry. I've lived a simple life, and that means I've been able to save. I can't think of anything better I'd like to spend it on then helping you guys. So stop asking."

I smile and yawn. "Then get us off the road when you see a place. I'm going to shut my eyes for a little bit."

"Roger."

It feels only seconds when Doug taps my shoulder. But when I look at the radio I see that thirty minutes have passed. "What do you think?"

Through the snowflakes drifting down from the sky I stare at two story motel. "I think you should see if there's an open room."

"I've got you covered. Just make sure that one doesn't freak out when he wakes up."

I look at Aiden. "No promises."

Doug leaves the truck and heat running and steps out into the snow. He disappears into the office. Aiden stirs slightly but doesn't wake up. If a get bitten by a single flea, I swear, I will drown the entire motel. It takes Doug only a few minutes before he's back. He opens the door and motions his head. "Second floor, let's get our stuff inside, Aiden is still sleeping?"

"Nope." I elbow Aiden in the ribs and crawl out through the driver's door.

I pull my backpack out from bed. Aiden stumbled out of the truck and Doug drops his bag into his arms along with a room key. "Room 224." Aiden yawns and walks away.

I sigh and go to follow but Doug places a hand on my shoulder. "Not so fast." He grabs one of my hands and places a key into it. "Your room is 225."

I look at the key. "You...got me my own room?"

Doug nods. "You need some privacy, I can tell. Take a long shower; sleep in your own bed and your own room. Have a quiet night with your thoughts and dreams. I don't doubt that these next days, whatever they bring, will be hard. This might be the last night you get to have some real privacy."

I hug Doug, because though it's a simple gesture, it means more to me than I even realized. I can't remember the last time I had real privacy. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

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 even undress. I let it wash over me and peel off my clothes, leaving them in a heap near my feet. They work like a dam to block some of the water, but it's not enough to overflow the tub so I don't care. I open a complementary bar of soap and scrub my skin. I use the bottle of shampoo and conditioner, I scrub my body until its red raw and wonderfully smooth.

With whatever leftover soap I have, I scrub my clothes and wash them. I flip my vision and push the water back and forth through the fabrics until all the caked on dirt and sweat is washed from the fabric.

I turn off the shower when the water starts to run cold. 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 from a few days ago. Already my cheeks are redder, my eyes a little brighter. But then I see the scars wrapping around my neck and trailing down my collar bone. I reach up and trail my fingers along the indented skin.

I shiver, feeling the bite of the wound as if it were happening all over again. I look down at my body. I am covered in scars, covered in wounds that will never leave me. How long will I remember the pain? I turn slowly and look over my shoulder. My back is crisscrossed with broad white streaks from Mr. Handlers whip. I look up and meet my own gaze.

You've got the body, that's all that matters. 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?

Tears spring to my eyes, the memory of the words cut me deeper than I would have ever liked to admit. I hate all of them. Tyler. Mr. Handler. I hate my body. I hate myself because I will never want them to touch me like that. Not anymore. I hate even more that I wish I could have been touched, gently, lovingly.

I hate them.

I grab a towel and cover my body, covering my scars and shame. I pull the water from my hair and drop it into the sink and then I go and collapse into the bed. I pull the covers up to my cheek and close my eyes. The darkness surrounds me, but it doesn't remind me of my cell. It's warm and soft, and I am reminded of a different memory, a place where my mother and father spoke to me and gave me memories.