Sludge-like porridge was slapped down onto my plate. The warden scowled at me, his face disturbingly hog-like. “Eat. Now.”
The smell annihilated my olfactory senses. It was strangely chemical.
“Why am I here?” I asked for the umptieth time.
“Eat,” he repeated robotically, raising a ladle at me threateningly.
“I’ll eat.” My eyes stared grudgingly at the plate, then at the soiled uniform, I was wearing. My cheeks were hollowing, my body was slowly turning into a corpse. I’d been starving myself for the past 5 days.
The warden wobbled away with his trolley, looking for another captive to feed. We all sat on the cobblestoned floor, shivering due to the winter air that hit our backs. I looked disdained around me. Lifeless bags of cells glugged whatever had been served to them without a second thought. They had submitted to the treatment we were being subjected to. I refused to become a zombie.
A glass of blood-red liquid was shoved in my face. “Why haven’t you eaten?” asked the warden. “I… I think I am going to be sick.”
My panic-stricken feet scampered for a safe place to hide. The blood-red liquid was dreaded by each patient being treated in the asylum. If you staved off the food, you were punished. The liquid scorched your esophagus, muddled up your brain, and compelled your body to squirm and scream.
My little gimmick of pretending to puke had saved me this time, but I didn’t know how long I could last. The starvation was taking a toll on my body and I collapsed on the cold bed in my cell.
“Hey, Alexis,” a dark figure loomed over me. I recoiled in fear but relaxed when I saw who it was. “Good Evening Cellmate Elizabeth,” I said in the most formal way I could.
“I’ve asked you to call me Liz. What’s wrong, you look sick?”I scanned her skeptically. Could she be trusted? Could I tell her my predicament?
“I haven’t been eating my meals,” I said, falteringly.
“Oh, were you given the blood liquid?”
“I merely escaped.”
She looked pitifully at me, “We’ll be let out after we get well.”
“What sickness do we even have?” She looked at me gravely, sighed and sat down on her bed, “I have no idea.”
Elizabeth was 15 years old but had been here for as much time as she could remember. Same as me.
The cell door unlocked. The disgruntled face of the warden greeted me again, "Drink this."
I cowered, "No, please, no."
Another figure appeared behind him, it was The Doctor. The Doctor was known to be crueler than the blood-red liquid. Elizabeth froze and glared unblinkingly at the humans in the doorway.
"Alexis, I'll have to inject it in you if you don't drink up like a good kid," he said in his smooth voice which was by no means soothing.
I don't know what happened or what got into me. In a blink of an eye, I felt my body contorting and shrinking. I felt my arms turning into wings and I was a mosquito complete with a proboscis. I could see the contempt grow on the warden and doctor's face as I buzzed.
"The devil spawn!" bellowed the warden, swatting the air with his hands. Elizabeth had a shocked but amused look on her face and the Doctor kept his eyes torn, trying to see where I was. Me, I escaped easily.
I sought a safe place to hide and returned to a humanoid form.
"That was weird."
I tried again to change into something and to my surprise, I was successful and not just dreaming.
I spent the night thinking about this unique 'superpower'. Why did I not remember I had it? Why did I not remember anything of my childhood? After a fair while of thinking, a spark of my childhood memories ignited.
My mother was a beautiful woman, I remembered. I remembered her turning into different animals for my entertainment. I also remembered been taken away from her, by a man dressed in white.
I sneaked back into my cell to meet Elizabeth. "Good Morning, Elizabeth."
She was startled but regained her composure, "Hi! How did you that? It was pretty cool."
"I don't know either. Do you remember how you got here?"
She looked into the distance and then shook her head. A frown played on her lips.
After discovering my new-found talent, I decided to put it to use. I tried spying on The Doctor.
"Doctor, we've recruited five more children this week," spoke the warden's voice.
"Yes. What do they do?"
"The regular, nothing special. Precognition."
"We're doing good work here. We're saving the world from these witches. Keep it up."
"Right sir, right."
Witches? I'd always thought of the captives as zombies. Saving the world? Things didn't add up.
That night, I had an unusual but enlightening dream.
My mother was entertaining me. We lived in a secluded house.
"I'll send you to school so that you don't suffer a fate like me." She smiled and caressed my downy hair. I recall loving her.
That night, strangers had intruded in our little house. They bound my mother and stuffed me in a sack. I remember nothing but the crucifying screams of a lady, my mother. I'd heard the word witch for the first time.
I woke up with a start. It dawned on me why I was here. It dawned on me why Elizabeth was here. It dawned on me why everyone was here. We were special. We were a threat to regular humans. The food was suppressing our powers.
I hyper-ventilated as I thought, 'How can we defeat these tyrants? We are utterly helpless.' Was I doomed to live like this?