Blinked a lot.
Evie finally—reluctantly—stepped away, but she didn’t seem entirely convinced of my stupidity. And then, when I thought she might murder me just to be safe, she stopped. Stared at the wall.
And then she left.
I was trembling on the operating table for twenty minutes before the room was swarmed by a team of people. They unstrapped my body, washed and wrapped my open wounds.
I think I was screaming.
Eventually the combination of pain, exhaustion, and the slow drip of opiates caught up with me, and I passed out.
I never understood what happened that day.
I couldn’t ask, Evie never explained, and the strange, sharp voice in my head never returned. But then, Evie sedated me so much in my first weeks on this compound that it’s possible there was never even a chance.
Today, for the first time since that day, I hear it again.
I’m standing in the middle of my room, this gauzy yellow dress still bunched in my arms, when the voice assaults me.
It knocks the wind out of me.
Ella
I spin around, my breaths coming in fast. The voice is louder than it’s ever been, frightening in its intensity. Maybe I was wrong about Evie’s experiment, maybe this is part of it, maybe hallucinating and hearing voices is a precursor to oblivion—
No
“Who are you?” I say, the dress dropping to the floor. It occurs to me, as if from a distance, that I’m standing in my underwear, screaming at an empty room, and a violent shudder goes through my body.
Roughly, I yank the yellow dress over my head, its light, breezy layers like silk against my skin. In a different lifetime, I would’ve loved this dress. It’s both beautiful and comfortable, the perfect sartorial combination. But there’s no time for that kind of frivolity anymore.
Today, this dress is just a part of the role I must play.
The voice in my head has gone quiet, but my heart is still racing. I feel propelled into motion by instinct alone, and, quickly, I slip into a pair of simple white tennis shoes, tyingthe laces tightly. I don’t know why, but today,right now, for some reason— I feel like I might need to run.
Yes
My spine straightens.
Adrenaline courses through my veins and my muscles feel tight, burning with an intensity that feels brand-new to me; it’s the first time I’ve felt any positive effects of Evie’s procedures. This strength feels like it’s been grafted to my bones, like I could launch myself into the air, like I could scale a wall with one hand.
I’ve known superstrength before, but that strength always felt like it was coming from elsewhere, like it was something I had to harness and release. Without my supernatural abilities—when I turned off my powers—I was left with an unimpressive, flimsy body. I’d been undernourished for years, forced to endure extreme physical and mental conditions, and my body suffered for it. I’d only begun to learn proper forms of exercise and conditioning in the last couple of months, and while the progress I made was helpful, it was only the first step in the right direction.
But this—
Whatever Evie did to me? This is different.
Two weeks ago I was in so much pain I could hardly move. The next morning, when I could finally stand on my own, I saw no discernible difference in my body except that I was seven shades of purple from top to bottom. Everythingwas bruised. I was walking agony.
Evie told me, as my doctor, that she kept me sedated so that I’d be forced to remain still in order to heal more quickly, but I had no reason to believe her. I still don’t. But this is the first time in two weeks that I feel almost normal. The bruises have nearly faded. Only the incision sites, the most painful entry points, still look a little yellow.
Not bad.
I flex my fists and feel powerful, truly powerful, even with the glowing manacles clamped around my wrists and ankles. I’ve desperately missed my powers, missed them more than I ever thought I could miss something I’d spent so many years hating about myself. But for the first time in weeks, I feel strong. I know Evie did this to me—did this to my muscles—and I know I should distrust it, but it feels so good to feel good that I almost can’t help but revel in it.
And right now, I feel like I could—
Run
