My fist slams into the punching bag for the umpteenth time, the blunt sound of wet skin hitting hard leather echoing through the empty gym. I swing again, and again, ignoring the pain of my busted and bleeding knuckles. Sweat stings the wounds as they heal and then become damaged once more. It's vicious cycle, but I don't stop.

I'm breathing heavily, sweat pouring from  my body. Fatigue gnaws at my arms, my legs, and my throat burns from lack of water. How long have I been doing this? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? An hour? Doesn't matter. I have to keep going.

I've been doing this for the last four days, going all out, running myself to exhaustion. It's the only thing I can do to keep strong, physically anyway. I guess it helps my mind too, since it's my brain that's screaming to stop, even though I know I can go on for longer, and that I can go harder. I hit the punching back hard with a left hook, my busted hand leaving blood on the bag that I'll have to clean up later.

This struggle to keep going, it reminds me of when I had to fight and pummel Moonchild into letting me take back control of my body. She gave up power pretty easily, but I rebuked her and pushed her until she faded back into my subconscious. The faces of everyone around me is something I'll never forget. I've never seen Milo look so afraid, or Veronica so shocked. Sam's voice held so much fear when he asked what just happened.

I couldn't give him an answer. That'd never happened before.

I slept in the dorms that night. I said it was for his safety as well as my own. I honestly didn't think Moonchild would do... that again, but that lie was better than me saying I couldn't bear to see how he looked at me when we got back.

Another hit. Another blow. My heart hammers in my chest as my breaths come out in quick pants. The salt of my sweat stings my eyes, but I ignore the pain of it and my burning muscles and just keeping hitting the leather bag, shifting my stance every so often.

I have to keep moving.

What she did to me, why she's in my head, why we're different from the other Moonchild Syndrome sufferers... I taste bile on my tongue and I have to resist the urge to gag. I let her do that. I just sat there and let her make herself a part of me, make me permanently susceptible to her control, her will. Maxine and Sam and Jody and everyone else who knows told me it wasn't me, that I was under mind control and therefore couldn't give actual consent, but I didn't do anything to stop it.

I resisted the mind control when destroying Abel. She won out, in the end, and Simon had to inject me with that stuff to stop me from killing Sam, but I still tried to stop what I was doing. I gave no resistance with this. I did nothing.

I'm such an idiot!

I pull my arm back, ready to hit the punching bag as hard as I can. I can't afford to break another one, so at the last second I turn and slam my fist into the concrete wall.

There's a loud crack that rings in my ears, and I'm unsure if the sound was from me breaking the concrete or my hand. I pull back, a small bit of blood staining the wall that now has a small crack. I cradle my hand, hissing as tears leak from my eyes when I try to move my fingers. A sharp burn follows as bones shift and begin to meld back together. It's excruciating and makes more tears threaten to slip past my lashes.

I pant, leaning against the wall and sliding down until I'm sitting on the ground. With a broken bone it'll take longer to heal, so I wait, gritting my teeth at the burn deep under my skin.

I want to cry, not from the pain, but from what's happened. She used me, took advantage of me. She put this version of herself in my mind, made me forget it even happened. I squeeze my eyes shut to prevent the tears from flowing. Once I start, I won't be able to stop, and crying won't help me anyway. It'll only make me feel worse.

My breathing slowly becomes more regulated as the minutes pass by, my heartrate slowing down. I stand when I can no longer feel my blood roaring in my ears. My hand still burns, my body trying to heal itself, putting me through weeks' worth of pain in only minutes. Bones fuse back together, my busted and bleeding hands healing up as if it never happened.

I wonder just how I'm going to explain that crack in the wall. I mean, there are people in Abel who know about my... abilities because of Van Ark's treatments, but people tend to forget even about superhuman strength when the fate of your home is constantly in danger. And even though people do know about this, I'm sure I'm going to get a talking to from Janine about my reckless and destructive behaviour.

Just because I can break walls doesn't mean I should.

I hear the door open, and I hide my hand behind my back. It'll be fine in a few more minutes, but right now you can still see there's clearly something wrong with it. A second later I see Tom and Jody walk through, talking about something that I really don't care to know about. Jody notices me first, raising her hand in a slight wave. I wave back with my left hand.

"Callista, hi, you look..."

"Gross?" I ask, looking down at my tank top that's soaked with sweat.

"I was goin' to say exhausted."

"That too," I say, forcing a smile. An awkward silence soon follows, until Jody notices the crack in the wall.

"What happened there?"

I shrug. "I don't know. It was there when I came in. Probably some teenagers snuck and threw some of the dumbbells around or something."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, her high ponytail swinging as she does so. Her roots are starting to grow out, and her naturally blonde hair is clashing harshly with the dyed black. I suppose that's why she's been wearing her hair pinned up so often, since it helps hide the hashnesses.

"Hey, are ya finished usin' the punching bag? I was goin' to-oh. Is that... blood?"

Tom finally seems to hear our conversation, or maybe he finally heard something that peaked his interest.

"Yeah, uh, I'm done with it. Let me clean it up."

I start to go for the cleaner and towels we have on hand, stopping in my tracks when Tom speaks.

"Your hands are fine."

I turn to him. "What?"

He stalks over to me, his stance making me almost shrink away from him. He grabs my hands, both of them, and I have to hold back a wince. My hands healed, mostly, but there's still a soreness there. He looks at my unbroken skin.

"Your hands are fine. There's not a scratch on you."

"Must not be my blood then," I say, awkwardly pulling away from him.

Jody tips her head to the side. "You used the punching bag even though it had someone else's blood on it?"

"I wasn't really paying attention. I had my mind on other things," I reply, and I don't have to explain much more that that. I shift from one foot to the other, my sweat cooling on my body, making me feel gross and uncomfortable.

I grab the cleaner and wipe down the punching bag, feeling Jody and Tom's eyes on me the entire time. I put it back once I'm finished, hoping I don't appear too stiff.

"I'm going to go take a shower. Have a good workout."

I start to leave, but Tom calls out to me just before I reach the door. I internally groan, swearing that if he asks if I'm okay like everyone else has I'm punching him. I turn around, forcing a polite smile.

"Yes?"

"Here." He hands me a red, squishy rubber ball.

"A stress ball? Why would you..." I trail off when he leans closer to me, hovering over me and giving me a look that reminds me why I used to be afraid of him.

"I think you might need it," He replies lowly. "You forget how observant I can be, and how easily I can spot blood."

I feel the color draining from my face.

The crack in the wall...

"This might help you manage your anger. Don't want you to take another swing at concrete." His eyes glance down for a split second. "You're lucky you didn't break your hand."

My breath catches in my throat, and I quickly turn and leave. He doesn't just suspect anymore. He knows.

He knows.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

I start to run, wanting to get as far away from Tom as possible. I know he won't come after me. If he wanted to question me he never would have let me leave in the first place. It's not like I could have fought him off. I've only been able to take him down three times in training and it's still a struggle. Take the fact that I've been kicking my own ass for the past hour and he'd have me on the ground in less than a minute.

No, he didn't want to question me, not yet. This was a warning that he someday will. It has to be, since no one would believe him if he said anything. If he pointed out the blood on the wall and my clean hands, it would lead people to believe I didn't do it rather than I have accerlated healing.

Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse-

I hit something, my world becoming a blur as I fall forward. We hit the ground, the person I slammed into taking the blunt of the fall. I push myself off, panting and clumsily getting back on my feet. I stutter an apology to the man on the ground before getting up and running off. My steps falter when the resident yells,

"Somebody get Runner Five! She's hearing Moonchild again!"

No, no, no, no, no.

I watch as people's gazes turn to me, some filled with fear, some with curiosity, others-those who have Moonchild Syndrome-with understanding. Anger boils under my skin, mixing with the rising panic that scratches at my mind.

There's nothing to understand. They didn't have to go through what I went through. They know nothing, and how dare they, how dare that resident, believe they know enough about me to know if I'm hearing Moonchild!

Something hard hits me from the side, knocking me off balance. I take the blunt of the fall this time, my face digging into the dirt.

"Callista, calm down. You don't have to run," Someone says as I wiggle underneath him. My brain doesn't take the time to process who the owner of the voice is, my only thoughts being Run and Hide and Stop touching me!

I feel my chest tighten. It becomes harder to breathe, harder to think. I recognize the signs of the oncoming panic attack, and I know there's no way I can calm myself down before it hits me completely.

That's why I elbow the person holding me down in the face before he can grab my arms. He tilts off balance, and I twist, flinging him to the ground. I get on my knees, ready to throw a punch before pausing when I see who it is.

Seeing Peter just makes me angrier.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I stand, and I feel a sharp pain in my chest as my breathing becomes shallow. I glare at him.

"Never do that to me again!" I scream, hating myself as a sob leaves my mouth. "I wasn't seeing Moonchild! I just wasn't watching where I was going!"

He and everyone else watches, not daring to say anything. They're not used to their fearless Runner Five crying so openly, but I wouldn't be if it weren't for them.

"This is why I didn't want anyone knowing I had Moonchild Syndrome in the first place!"

Peter stands, and he opens his mouth as if to say something.

"Don't!" I shout, another sob leaving my lips. I gasp in a breath of air and shake my head. "Just don't."

Then I turn and run.

•

It's easy to stay hidden when no one is looking for you.

Of course, people did start looking for me eventually, but I've lived in Abel for almost four years. I know exactly where to hide where no one will look, and I know exactly when to move when someone might think to look.

I didn't want anyone to see me after my little outburst a few hours ago. Little probably isn't the word I should use. If it was little I probably wouldn't care, but I did, I do.

My face is no longer puffy or tear stained, but I don't want anyone's eyes on me. I know word has gotten around. Abel is small, with 600 people here at best. Things get around, especially when those things are gossip about runners.

I shouldn't have acted so rashly. I shouldn't have shouted. I shouldn't have let my emotions take over. I pull my knees into my chest, glancing over the township from the coms tower. The red light flashes, giving a brief view of everything, an infinite amount of land covered in red before draped back into darkness.

I've only been here for an hour or so. Everyone's gone to bed so I don't have to worry about constantly moving to avoid curious eyes and pestering questions. Regret seems to hit me in waves, dread filling lungs and threatening to pull me under.

It'a almost as if when I think things can't get my worse, another bad thing happens. And now I'm going to have to explain to Sam what happened today, because I'm sure he's heard all about it, and because of it have to explain how my reckless behavior has led Tom to fully believe I'm immortal.

How could I have been so stupid?

I sigh, knowing I probably shouldn't stay up here too much longer. It's dark, which already heightens my fear of when I have to come down, but the longer I stay up here, the worse it'll get.

But as I get up, I hear the ladder shake and shift. I tense, wondering who the hell would be coming up here at this time at night. A second later I see light brown hair cut into a pixie cut, followed by eyes that match mine.

"There you are," Nicole says, getting up and then dusting herself off. "I thought you said you didn't like heights."

I look at her in confusion. "Nicole, what are you-"

"Looking for you, dumb ass." She crosses her arms and sends me a knowing look. "Your little stunt today made a certain radio operator worried sick, especially when he couldn't find you. 'What if she does something reckless?' 'What if she has a panic attack?' 'We need to find her as soon as possible.' 'Something might be really wrong.'" She rolls her eyes. "You're both so dramatic."

"Shut up," I growl, partially from annoyance, partially from embarrassment. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, that's a shame, because I didn't climb all the way up here after your fiancé told me you weren't up here because he already checked two hours ago to just sit here while you wallow in self hatred because of your guilt complex." She looks at me expectantly. "So what happened? Peter said you said it wasn't because you were hearing Moonchild."

"It wasn't. I wasn't having an episode, I was just..." I trail off. It's not like I could tell her the truth, even if I was confident she wouldn't tell anyone else.

"You were just what?"

"I panicked. I was thinking about everything that's happened-with Moonchild and the Glass Protocol and Sigrid, and I just... it was like I had to run, and then I was accused of having an episode and was tackled down before I could even really say that it wasn't true and I snapped."

She stays silent for a long time. "You used to not be like this."

I glare at her. "Yeah, well, I also used to be a murderer."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," She says defensively, although her tone of voice says otherwise. "And if we're honest, you've killed more people as Runner Five than you ever did as Runner Forty-three, unless you've forgotten about the Comansys ships you blew up when you were seventeen."

I tense. "I haven't forgotten any of it, especially now that I..."

Nicole tips her head to the side. "Now that you what?"

Red flashes, outlining her face. Her eyes stare through me more that at me, and I look away.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Of course, I wouldn't understand! No one would! You were the only one Moonchild decided to... do that to. No one is going to understand exactly what it's like." She kneels down, grabbing my chin a bit too hard and forcing me to look her in the eye. "But I do know what it's like to feel like you have no control within your own life, to feel like you have no choice, to have people do things to you that you don't want.

"I know the Torrencers didn't do the same thing to us as what Moonchild did to you, but they hurt us. They hurt me. I felt just as lost and hopeless as you did until I was considered good enough to get a higher position."

I pull out of her grasp, pressing my back against the tower frame. "Yeah, but you're away from that now. At least, you're away from their torture. She's in my head! There's nowhere I can run that she won't be."

"And that's why we're trying to find a way to get her out. Singer, the people in Abel care about you. They don't just see you as a runner. They see you as family. They'd do whatever they had to to keep you safe. That's why you can't hide from them, even if you don't want to talk about it-about this, about anything that's happened to you these past two weeks. They don't expect you to talk. They just expect you to tell them if you can't."

I sigh, knowing she's right but desperately not wanting to admit it. "Can we stay here just a little longer then?"

She takes a moment to respond. "We?"

I shrug. "Well, I mean, you can leave if you want, but I just wanted to stay here for a few more minutes."

Nicole sighs and takes a seat beside me. "Fine."

I look up the night sky, the red light of the beacon masking the stars' light when it flashes, allowing them to shine brightly when it goes dark again. The moon is dark tonight, but the stars are not. They are like little pinholes in heaven's curtains.

The wind rustles, blowing my hair across my shoulder. I close my eyes, trying to focus on the cool air on my skin, the sound of the wind. It offers a temporary peace for my chaotic mind, like putting a muffler of my raging thoughts that scratch and howl and scream about things I already know I cannot change or fix.

"This has nothing to do with what we've been talking about," Nicole says after a long minute of silence. "But what do you remember about home?"

I open my eyes. "Home?"

"Yeah, home. Before the apocalypse."

"Why do you ask?"

She sighs. "When I was in America, I didn't think about it much because I was too busy, constantly working to keep in others' good graces. I forgot about a lot of things from before, but I never even realized it because I never had the chance to think about it. I've been thinking about it now that you're getting married, and how you talk about how you wish Mom could be here... I'm just realizing all the things I've forgotten about home."

"Oh..." I stay quiet for a moment. "I don't remember much. It's-I tried to push a lot of the memories away. It hurt too much to think about, but I do remember some things."

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, my mind replaying bits and pieces of life before it all went to shit.

"I remember birthday parties that we would go to for our friends, and I remember back-to-school shopping and the smell of new school books. I remember how Dad would take me to the shooting range, but he'd take you hunting because you didn't like shooting pistols when you were younger.

"I remember Mom taking us to buy volleyball shoes our first year on the team. I remember our coach constantly yelling at us and making us run so many laps it felt like we were a track team rather than a volleyball team." I pause when I hear her laugh. "I remember... I remember Wes."

I swallow. "I remember how badly I wanted him to like me, how much I would do to impress him..."

I remember how angry he got at me during the apocalypse, when I chose Katelyn over his family, when I told him I'd chose Katelyn over him. I remember running with him at the A.M.T.B. I remember making our promise to get married. I remember messing up, shooting him in the shoulder. I remember trying to keep it from getting infected and failing. I remember aiming the gun at his head as he told me he loved me.

I remember pulling the trigger as a thirteen-year-old girl.

I shake my head. No, this isn't what I'm supposed to be thinking about. I'm supposed to be remembering things from before.

"I remember going to church, and dressing up in pretty dresses. Sometimes Mom would straighten my hair if she had time, but most of the time I'd just put it in an inverted ponytail and put a clip in it. She let me wear makeup a few times, like when we had to sing in the choir. I remember singing and practicing for for performances."

"Do you remember any of the songs?" Nicole asks, and I shrug.

"I remember a few, but mostly I just remember choruses of songs."

"Can you sing some of them for me? Or just one?"

I hesitate in answering, but then nod. "Yeah. Just... don't be too disappointed that I don't sound like I did in church. I can sing, but being mute for two years kind of messed with things."

She looks down at her lap when I say that, but says nothing. I take in a breath, racking through my brain for lyrics of a song that neither of us have heard in years.

"He's the eye of the storm,
The center of my calm,
The place where I find shelter,
The place where I find warmth.
The keeper of my days,
The center of my ways.
When I can't feel the sunshine
And my ship is tossed and torn,
He's the eye of the storm."

When I go silent, Nicole laughs. "I love how that's the song that comes to mind, especially since you're on anxiety overload right now."

A small laugh leaves my lips. "I've found I'm not only a living bad luck charm but also a living oxymoron." I stand. "I suppose I should get down from here and actually head inside. Sam's probably in there waiting for me."

"If he isn't still looking for you," She says while standing, and I feel a pang of guilt for making him so worried.

I head down the ladder, refusing to look down. I doubt I'd be able to see much anywhere since most of the lights have been turned off around this area. Nicole follows, and once we're both on solid ground she knocks on the coms shack door, probably so I can't change my mind and try to sleep in the library tonight.

Light floods my vision when the door opens, and after my eyes adjust I see Sam standing there, looking mildly surprised to see me. He looks more surprised to see Nicole beside me.

"I think this belongs to you," She says, giving me a less than gentle shove towards him. Sam narrows his eyes at her words and the indication of them, but doesn't comment on it.

"Where was she?"

She points up at the tower. "And this is why we double check things. Also, she was fine, just being her dramatic self, which I hope you're prepared to deal with for the rest of your life since you're marrying her."

"I'll manage," He deadpans.

"'M sure you will." Nicole looks at me, then to him, then back at me. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go on in, hug now that you're back together after six hours, which is long for you guys. Kiss or cuddle or whatever."

I roll my eyes and weave around Sam to get inside. I turn back to her.

"G'night, Nicole."

"Night, Singer. Night, Sam."

"Goodnight," He says flatly, closing the door and turning to me. He looks so tired.

I'm already taking off my clothes to change into my nightgown. Once I put it on, I sit on the bed and look at Sam expectantly. He mirrors the look.

"Do you want me to tell you why I freaked and ran over an innocent citizen, elbowed Peter in the face and screamed at him while crying? I mean, I know you've probably heard I was mad about them saying I had Moonchild Syndrome, but there was a reason I was recklessly running." I grab my invisible backpack strap, knowing I should just say it instead of dragging it out. "But you might not like the reason..."

"That's unnerving," He says slowly, stiffening slightly. "What happened?"

"Tom knows," I start rubbing my temples, "about my, uh, situation with cell regeneration and accelerated healing..."

"He what?!" He screeches, and I wince.

"He's suspected for sometime, but now-"

"How? What did you do to..." He trails off when he sees my face. "Callista, what did you do?"

I have to fight to keep eye contact as shame fills my body. "I was in the gym. And I was punching the punching bag and I got too angry and I didn't want to ruin it like last time, so I punched the wall and cracked it."

He blinks, trying to absorb my words. "You-you cracked a concrete wall?"

I nod. "I also sort of, kind of... broke my hand."

"You broke your hand?!"

"It healed! I'm fine now." I sigh. "But I got some blood on the wall, and Tom noticed when he and Jody came in. He pointed it out, but stayed quiet enough so Jody couldn't hear. He's convinced that I'm immortal, so I panicked and then things spiraled out of control when I ran into someone and... yeah."

Sam takes in a breath and lets it out slowly. "Okay... so this is bad, but he doesn't really have any proof, right? Plus they may think he's just... rambling."

"That's what I'm thinking, unless he breaks my leg when we train together."

His eyes widen. "You think he'd do that?"

"You think he won't?"

"Well, maybe-wait, wait, why were you punching the bag so hard in the first place?"

I cringe, again grabbing my invisible backpack strap. "I was angry at Moonchild, for what she did to me when she was alive. I got lost in my emotions and was stupid."

I decide not to tell him I was mad at myself as well. I know what his response would be and I don't want to create an unnecessary argument.

Sam looks at me sadly before taking a seat beside me and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I'm sorry. We're going to fix it. You know that, right? We're going to get her out of your head."

"And what if you can't?"

"We will. We'll find a way. We won't-I won't-let you suffer with her in your head forever."

"I really want to believe that, but she it'd make me permanently susceptible," I mutter.

"She also said she felt an emotional connection to you and then tried to kill you after you escaped mind control. I would take her words with a grain of salt at best. She will not win. She didn't when she was alive, and she won't now."

A sigh leaves my lips. "I hope you're right."

He kisses my temple. "I know I'm right. Just... don't run off and hide again. When I couldn't find you I thought you might have left the township."

I scoff. "I know I make stupid decisions sometimes, but I'm not that stupid."

He laughs, but it fades. "It's gonna be okay."

I close my eyes and lay my head on his shoulder. "Promise?"

"I promise."

A/N: Here you go, guys! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry if it was a bit of a downer, but with all the things that's happened to Five in this book alone I think she's allowed to have a breakdown here and there. Haha. Anyway, please be sure to vote and comment. Thank you and have a blessed day!