*1* - Fight for Freedom

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I draw intricate shapes against the one-way glass of my cage—sorry, room

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I draw intricate shapes against the one-way glass of my cage—sorry, room. They don't linger for very long; they disappear within a minute.

I sigh and mindlessly draw. This room is at a fairly warm temperature, probably to keep me in line. If I step a toe over, they'll crank it up. I would know—I've tested it before, not intentionally.

I know someone is watching, someone is always watching. Taking notes, making suggestions to others on the other side. I don't see why we need to be looked after.

I wish there was a telepath around me, I'd love to communicate with them. The walls are brick and grimy-looking, not exactly high-end. It has to be because of our location. Why can't we find somewhere nice for once? Why continue to hide us in dumps? I even posed that question before, and I got the logical answer: you hide in places everyone is least expected to look at.

I know we're out of country, not on American soil. We're maybe in Germany, judging by how often I hear the language. Or that could just be the nature of the people I've been around for the past seven years of my life. I'm only going off of speculation, I can't confirm anything.

I haven't seen daylight in years. Any new trends or disasters, I'm lucky if I get any current events or pop culture updates. I forget what a beautiful sky looks like. The one thing I'm familiar with, though, is the snow. The ice. The cold. Those I will never be able to forget, because they are a part of me. Take those away, and I am ordinary.

I pick at the cloth I wear and wrinkle my nose. Surely I'm allowed a shower soon. From what I've seen over the years, I'm one of the few fortunate ones to be treated somewhat decently. It's probably because of my parents' status in their jobs.

I'm curled in a corner of the room, tucked between the brick wall and the one-way glass. This is how it's been day in and day out. That's another thing I haven't seen for a while—a night sky. Being deprived of the simple things in life hurts more than people realize.

I look up at the ceiling thoughtfully as light snow begins to fall. Lazily, I stick my tongue out and catch the flakes. This must be entertaining to the viewers; watch the girl in her natural habitat.

Suddenly, my flurry is interrupted by loud sirens. I cover my ears instantly. This hasn't happened before. Something's going on. Something's wrong. I stand up, hands still over my ears, and stupidly look out the window, only to see my reflection.

It isn't until my door opens that the noises of chaos come to me: frantic feet, rapid German, loud sirens. They blend together in a hideous symphony. I'm not greeted by my mom or dad. Instead, I'm greeted by Genevieve, a fellow enhanced.

"It's time!" she screams over the siren.

I stand and look at her. I have no idea what she means.

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