For all the times I imagined myself leaving this house, I never once thought what I would pack. Nor did it ever cross my mind that everything would fit into a backpack. The reality is somewhat depressing. No photos.  No books. No toys. I wish I had more to pack. It would give me a reason to stall. The Handlers are downstairs with Henry and Gretchen. The look on her face when Mr. Handler told her was the same face she'd given me all these years, but this time, she actually looked satisfied. As though she finally had a real excuse as to why I was such a disappointment, why her parenting skills hadn't helped in taming my 'rebellious intentions'. Henry however was a slew of emotions, I had to go upstairs, I couldn't bear to see him, mainly because I felt like crying in piece. Henry actually cared. Maybe he cared because he saw me like a loyal pet now. Something lucky to keep around the house, but he called me his daughter, that meant something, it had to.

                So I cried while I found my school backpack. Cried when I packed some socks and cried when I packed my jeans. But my tears stopped somewhere between pants and shirts. And the emotions stopped somewhere between shirts and hoodie. Now I feel numb. Numb because I can't afford to be anything else. My brain won't let me think of the word that is brewing in my stomach. Because if I speak it, I might vomit...I might run and the rest of me may never catch up.

                There is a tap on my door. My hand tightens around one of the shoulder straps to my bag. "Yes?"

                "Adie?" The door swings open, its Mrs. Handler. She looks at my bag and my face then offers me a sad smile. I'm not sure if it's real. "It's time to go."

                I swallow but there's nothing there. My mouth is dry. My throat is scratchy. I feel as though I'm shriveling up. That soon there will be nothing but a pile of clothes and a pair of old shoes on the ground. "OK." I swing the bag onto one shoulder and look around the room that was never mine. For the first time, I feel that this place is home. I wish I had felt it sooner, had more time to feel alive. Mrs. Handler walks behind me, one hand gently on my shoulder. At the bottom of the steps Mr. Handler waits by the open door, Gretchen and Henry are there also, so is Jack.

                Gretchen says absolutely nothing, Jack whines and pressing his nose to Henry's good leg. He knows something is wrong. Henry opens his arms and I hug him past the crutches. Still no tears. He strokes my hair once and kisses my forehead. I will always remember him with the scent of wool. "Don't ever forget who you are Adie." He says, his eyes look wet but he's not crying either. I nod and look at Gretchen. She still has nothing to say, so I say it for her.

                "Thanks for feeding me." She sniffs and looks away. I know that's all of a goodbye I'll get. I go down to one knee and hug Jack. I bury my face into his soft fur and stroke his ears. "Bye Jack." He drops his head as if he actually understands.

                "Time to go." Mrs. Handler places a hand on my shoulder again and I offer Henry one last smile. It's the best I can muster, but it's pathetic, and I know it. I turn my back on them, and walk out the door. The sun is preparing to lower itself onto the horizon, and in the distance I see large whipped clouds that reach to high heights. A black expensive looking car sits in the road outside the house.

                It feels too quiet. I expected the town to be pressing in around me with pitchforks and torches shouting 'burn the witch' or something. But the road is quiet, and in the distance I can hear the bleating sheep and Mr. Melberry's dogs. Mr. Handler steps ahead of me and opens the trunk of the car. "I'll put your bag back here." I hesitate, feeling that without the bag I'll be completely vulnerable, but I know immediately it's a stupid thought.

                I'm already vulnerable.

                Mrs. Handler opens the door and I slid into the car. The door closes after me and I look out the window. Henry and Jack are watching me go, but through the tinted windows I'm not sure they can actually see me. Mr. Handler gets into the driver's side and Mrs. Handler sits in the passenger seat. The car rumbles to life, unlike the farm trucks or the Cadillac, this car barely says anything when Mr. Handler pulls onto the road. I turn and watch my house fade slowly from view until there is nothing behind me to see but stone walls, green grass, and country roads.

                I catch Mr. Handler glancing into the rear view mirror at me so I turn and look out the window. I blink and we're passing through town, another blink, and we're already out of it. There goes my entire life, almost everything familiar, gone. Just like that. How easily a single life can turn.  The sun is tucking itself into the horizon and the clouds are closer when Mrs. Handler clears her throat. I look away from the window and see that she is offering me a bottle of water. I reach out and take it. The cap has already been opened for me and I twist it back and forth nervously.

                "Thank you." I say.

                She nods, "Of course. I know this is all very difficult, you must be very thirsty."

                I am. My throat, it feels, has been dry since all of this started happening. I take the lid off fully and bring the bottle up to my lips. And the color drains from the world.

                My first thought is that I've gone blind.

                But no, that's not right, I can still see. But, it's all black and white. I lower the bottle as I look towards the sun, there is no color in the sky, or the grass, or the clouds, nothing. My heart starts to speed up.  I open my mouth and look to Mrs. Handler when something shines and catches my attention. I look down at the water bottle and my mouth remains open but my heart slows. My body entire body slows. The world slows. I hear my heard beat strong and steady in my ears and with each pulse my heart pumps, the water in the bottle glows a little brighter. And that's exactly what the water is doing.

                It's glowing with a silvery almost metallic blue that churns with thousands of small tendrils that swirl and dance in sync with my own heart. And I sense it, not like the rain or the river, but I sense the water trapped inside the bottle. Almost as if there were a small beacon calling out to me, letting me know it's near.

But there's another color swirling within the blue, spreading. There is a black and gold tendril that spreads each time the water pulses and swirls. I can sense it, but not like the water, whatever it is, it's not pure. It's not supposed to be there.

I blink.

The world rushes back and I take a breath of air. The water bottle drops to the floor and spills into the floor mat. The water is no longer pulsing. The grass is green, the clouds are creamy, the sun is orange, and Mrs. Handlers face is white. Mr. Handler slams on the brakes and pulls over.

"Adie!" Mrs. Handler says sharply, "Why did you do that?"

I open and close my mouth, no words come out. What the hell is happening to me? Is this the virus playing with my brain? I'm going crazy. I grab my head. My heart is pounding fast again, I feel myself about to lose the numb.

"ADIE." Mrs. Handler says clear, firm, and slow.

I look her in the eyes. "There's something in the water."

I'm not sure what compels me to say it, but I need to say it out loud. To make what just happened more real and less in my head. If I say what happens then it's not just me. These things won't just be in my head, they will be real, and that means I won't be crazy. I sound crazy, even to myself. I want to cry, but more than anything I want to run. I feel trapped.

Mr. Handler's eyes widen through the mirror and he looks at Mrs. Handler. They lock gazes and before I can take another breath Mrs. Handler is out of the passenger seat and opening my door. All I notice is the syringe in her hand. I instinctively scramble back until I hit the opposite door.

"I need you to calm down Adie. The virus has begun to infect your brain, we need to get you to sleep until we get to the facility where we can start to diagnose and treat you. Do you understand? You need to sleep, that's all this is. It will help you sleep." Her words may be practiced and smooth but her eyes are wild and her hands are shaking with adrenaline. She sits in the back and reaches over to me. The needle headed for my arm that is gripping the headrest.

The colors fade away as the needle descends.

There is nothing but black and gold.

"NO!"

The needle explodes in her hand and the back door opens behind me and I fall backwards. I see sky and Mr. Handlers face before my head hits gravel. "Get the other dose!" He shouts and his hands are grabbing me, restraining me as I thrash and fight against him. The world is flashing between color and gray. My head has begun to throb. Gravel grinds against my skin and Mr. Handler drags me into a sitting position, my back against his chest, his arms locking my arms against my body. I'm yelling something, I don't even recognize the words but I'm sure they aren't nice.

Mrs. Handler circles around the car with another needle. Her hair is loose and wild, fallen from its perfect bun. Her eyes are alert, but her hands are steadier this time when she grabs my wrist and pulls it away from my body, Mr. Handlers grip adjusts but does not loosen. The gray returns and my heart pounds in my ears once more, fast, but strong. The needle flashes and disappears into my skin. I don't register any pain.  Mrs. Handler thumbs the plunger, but it doesn't move.

I'm a water filtering freak who swam across a river and saved Henry's life. Damn it, I'm a Misfit, but I'm not insane. Have a taste of your own medicine. The syringe shatters and falls in pieces to the ground. But the insulin does not. Like a bubble it hovers above my skin. Then it splits into two small tendrils and shoots into the open mouths of Mr. and Mrs. Handler. It takes two seconds for them to collapse.

I puke, and then it takes me six.