The water continued to gush out from the pipe at the floor. Men stood at every exit watching me struggle. The water rose to my knees. I sloshed through the water, which felt more like molasses. I made my rounds in the container, planning my escape. Fumbling with the buttons of my shirts, my hands shook with every movement. I tore the shirt off and held it in my hands. The water climbed higher to my stomach. It was cold and stung my bare skin. The men standing near shook their heads and give an occasional mocking grin.
I took a deep breath and plunged myself into the water. Exerting all my force, I shove the shirt into the pipe. The wadded shirt failed to stop the water; it only shot out of the pipe like a bullet. The water progressed enough to where I could no longer stand and keep my head above the water. I gasped for air and flung my arms wildly against the side of the container. My hands pushed against the crate top. Nothing would budge; I was stuck. The water reached the top and stopped. To swim slowly was the only way to help preserve the little bit of energy I had left.
It didn’t work.
I felt myself growing fainter. A blurry figure approached the container to watch me as if I were a fish in an aquarium. I swam closer to the figure as it put its hands on the side. Darkness surrounded the edges of my vision. I put my hands on the glass to mock the gesture. His hands remained in place as I fell deeper to the bottom. My vision became more enclosed by the blackness, but I could still see the figure. He had knelt down to where I was, c***ed his head to the side, and put his hand to the glass once more. My vision went black.

My eyes flashed opened as I jolted up. The bonds that held me threw me back onto the table. I examined the surrounding figures. There was only a dim light, like a candle, that filled the room. The structures sat around me as if they were vultures ready to feed on their prey.
“Don’t be scared, little girl,” a voice echoed.
I quickly jerked my head to its natural position and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and raised my head toward my feet. The dim light formed a silhouette in front of me. The silhouette rang a small bell in my memory but quickly faded. He held something in his right hand, like a pair of plyers. This cannot be good. I thought to myself.
“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie,” he said. “It won’t hurt that much.”
I glared at him as he gave a mocking smile. I laid my head back on the table.
“Or…” he said with a smirk, then paused. I lifted my head. “We can make a deal.”
“And what kind of deal would that be?” I asked
“Well, you see, you have something I need?”
“What do you want?”
Multiple things came to mind.
“I-I honestly don’t know what you want from me.”
“Do I have to spell it out for you?”
I gave him a puzzled look.
“Ugh” he said, “I want to know your secret!”
“My what?”
“Your secret,” He rolled his eyes and mumbled to himself, “I guess we are going to do this the hard way, you beast.”
He crept towards me, exercising the use of his plyers with slow motions of squeezing the handles. “This won’t take long,” he said with a smile. He pressed his middle finger and thumb into my cheeks forcing my mouth open. I yanked my head to release his grasp. He tightened his grasp, drew his plyers toward me, and placed them on my tongue.
An ear-piercing sound rang through our ears. His hands slowly lost their tension around my mouth and dropped to his sides. He took harsh deep breaths and looked down at this shirt. Blood began to soak the middle of his shirt. His eyes met mine. Tears filled his eyes as he fell to the ground clutching his chest as if he were having a heart attack. His struggle became less noticeable as he stopped moving and his hand dropped from his chest to the floor. I fiercely fought to break the bonds that held me to the table. It was useless. A slight bee sting-like twinge hit the side of my neck. My vision began to fail me, and darkness crept from the peripherals to the middle.

I woke up only seeing speckles of light. Panic rose, I struggled to throw off whatever was over my head. It was ripped off, creating black spots in my vision as my eyes adjusted. A man in a suit sat across from me with his hand folded over an envelope. Another man stood by the door with his arms crossed and a cord in his ear. There was a large glass window that covered half of the opposite wall. Obviously a one-way mirror, I thought to myself. I pulled my wrists around in the bonds and looked up at the man in front of me.
“Why am I here?” I asked. “Do you want to know my secret, too?”
“No,” the man across from me said. “That is not why we brought here. You are here so we can help you.”
“Help me? Yeah, sure! No thanks.”
“You need to learn how to control yourself.”
“Control myself? I have self-control.”
“Yes, but you need to control the other part of you.”
“The other part of me? What other part?”
“Do you know how your parents were killed?”
“Yeah? They were killed in a car accident.”
“That’s what you were told. But do you really know what happened?”
I looked at him.
“Your parents were killed in a car accident, but it wasn’t truly an “accident”. They were constantly watching and planning to strike. And they finally did, but they failed. They were really after you. Your parents knew what was going to happen so they risked their own lives for yours.”
“Who are the ‘they’? Why are they after me?” I said as I clenched my jaw to stop the tears.
“They are after you because you have something.”
“What do I have? How am I supposed to give them what they want, when I don’t even know what I have? You know. Don’t you?  I need to know!” I said pulling at my bonds and rocking the chair. Anger heated my face. I began to struggle and pull harder at the bonds.
“Ms. Stone, you need to calm down. Have control.”
“Just tell me!” I screamed at him with burning tears. I broke out of the bonds and threw the chair across the room breaking it into a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. I looked at the man as if he were my prey. I walked toward him but stopped.
A figure behind him caught my eye. I c***ed my head. The tension in my fists released. I walked toward the mirror and stopped. My skin turned a light tan color with black spots. I turned around slowly to face the man.
“I’m a cheetah.” My chest began to lift and sink rapidly as I stood staring at my own reflection. I paced the room, rubbing my hands together as if I had just put lotion on them. It’s just the mirror. It’s not actually you, I reassured myself.
“Jo”, the man said, “Jo!”
I jerked my head in his direction. “How do you know my name?” I didn’t let him answer. “Who are you? What is this place? What are you going to do to me? What am I?”
“Jo, I need you to calm down.”
“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? I cannot calm down. My life is a lie. My parents killed themselves just to save me. Why am I just now hearing about this?”
“Here. Drink this.” His arm reached out with a cup of water at the end.
“No! Do you think I’m stupid?” I reached forward and slapped the cup sending the water flying over the room. I pulled the chair from underneath the man and threw it at the mirror. The man stood and walked over to the guard and whispered something to him. I turned my attention to the guard as he spoke into his ear piece. Another small pinch entered the back of my neck. My legs grew weak. I fell to my hands and knees to steady myself. They too became weak. They slipped out from under me. The guard came over to where I was and lifted me from the floor. Then he slung me over his shoulder as we left the room. He walked for what seemed to be hours until he reached a small room. He opened the door walk in and laid me down on the small bed. Then he told me to get some rest and left the room.

I sat at the small black desk that stood in the corner opposite of my bed. I flipped through multiple People Magazines, reading two articles. One was about a girl miraculously being cured of her cancer, and the other about a boy who found his lost parents.
I stopped and closed the magazine. I looked over at the foot of the bed at the small wooden picture of a young couple holding a baby girl.
A “need-to-know” desire swelled within me. I stood from the desk and sat back down as quickly as I got up. My legs could not support the rest of my body. I rested a hand on the desk as the other gripped the back of the chair. Attempting to stand again, I put all of my strength into my arms. Once I was on my feet, I shuffled along to wall to the door.  I grabbed the brass door handle and twisted it quietly. Lights were supposed to be off and everyone in their room by ten o’clock, but it was a quarter after eleven, and I was still awake. Poking my head out the door, I looked up and down the hallway. The door slung against the wall as I made a run for the staircase leading to the back of the building.
The library was in the basement, which was four floors below me. Once I reached the basement, a flashlight swept across the floor. The light came closer to my direction. I pushed myself up against the wall and held my breath.
I light drew closer and closer. It hit the tips of my shoes but moved away and never returned.
Letting out my breath, I pulled away from the wall and walked through the entrance of the library to sit down at a computer. I checked my surroundings as I sat down. My outstretched fingers grazed across the keys as I typed “Jennifer and Ben Stone, Car Accident 2006” into the search bar and hit enter. The first link said “Tragic Accident Killing Parents.” I scanned the website and sighed, then clicked back to the original search.
“Are they still alive? Jennifer and Ben Stone, Car Accident.” I stopped, and ran the mouse over the URL and clicked. I held my breath and began to read. The website went through lists of evidence on the accident. At the end of the site, there was a small paragraph. It read:
Still Alive? Yes, most likely. Evidence proves that the accident was planned. The blow to their heads, could not have killed them but was hard enough to knock them unconscious for a few minutes. More evidence says that their bodies were never seen again, not even by the forensic pathologist. In all other evidence, many have come to the conclusion that they must still be alive. But where they are now? Why would they leave their daughter, Jo Stone, without parents? No one knows...
My chest began to rise and fall more rapidly as I backed away from the computer screen. I nearly fell over the table behind me, before my hands extended out and stopped me. The computer screen doubled and circled around each other. I tried to focused on one, but it only got worse. They began to circle faster.
    “I have to get out of here,” I said to myself.
    I took to my heels towards the exit. The door slung open and the coolness of night hit me as if the door flew back at me. My pace quickened as I made my way towards the fence. I was only about 100 feet away from the fence when someone tackled me like I was a football player. I got to my feet and looked at my attacker. It was a boy, about my age.
He began to advance me. I took my position, left leg in front bent, right extended behind, elbows bent, hands up by my chest like I learned from my father when I was six. I ducked under his arms as he passed me. I turned to face him again. He took his position, same as mine. I took the first punch, but he dodged it with his forearm. I only was able to get in one punch to the gut before he caught my arm. He twisted my arm and pushed me to the ground. He pinned me down. His hands held my wrists above my head with his shins on my thighs. I struggled to get out from under them.
I couldn’t move.
“Calm down” he whispered at me looking around.
I stopped jerking my head from side to side and looked him. He had wavy blond hair that fell longer on the left side of his face, covering one of his deep ocean blue eyes.
“What are you doing out here?” he said through his teeth.
“I-I…” I stopped, and stared at him. 
He widened his eyes at me, “Yes?”
He loosened his grip on me. I rolled out from under him and rubbed my wrists from where he was holding me. He sat on his knees looking at me, waiting for an answer. I gave no such thing. Instead, I stood, he did the same. A noise from his right made him take his attention off of me. It was long enough for me to make a run for it towards the building.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw him running after me. I just have to get to my room, I thought.
I pushed through the same exit door but threw it behind me as I passed through it. I heard him smack into the door face first. Two flights down, two to go. I heard his footsteps come closer to me. The toe of my shoe hit against the top of the step. I fell to my hands and knees with a thud. Scrambling to my feet, I heard his footsteps come closer.
I reached the door and threw it open, and made for my room. I grasped the brass handle, fumbling with the keys in my back pocket. Shoving the key in, I turned throwing the door open and shutting it. I locked the door and put my desk in front of it. A pair of hands slapped the door. I exhaled. The footsteps grew softer. I plopped myself on my bed, laid my head on the pillow, and fell asleep.
______________________________________________________________________________
Mr. R was the leader of the building. He was a smaller man but very fit. His office was the most depressing room in the whole building. It had plain, charcoal gray walls, like his hair. His desk was neatly organized with only a cup of pencils, a lamp, and a cup of his morning coffee. I knocked before I opened the door. I heard a faint “come in” as I entered. I stood in the middle of the room while Mr. R finished some work on his computer.
“You wanted to see me?” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “Indeed, I did. I have a mission for you.”
“A mission? But sir…”
“No ‘buts’, Jo.”
“Sir...”
“Stop. You have trained hard to control your power. You are ready for this mission. There is no reason as to why you would not be ready. This is a simple mission to help you control your power even more.”
My hands shook with fear and excitement. I think he could hear my heartbeat jumping through my chest as I stood there.
“Here’s your mission.” He handed me a bulky envelope with a red stamp sticker on the back. I peeled back the flap and pulled out the papers inside. He sat there with his hands folded in front of him and his elbows on the table. I quickly skimmed through the papers, and then looked at him. He nodded at the door.

The clock read 4:00 a.m. I threw on a black sweatshirt and black leggings. I grabbed my book bag that was sitting at my desk and slung it over my shoulder. I walked with my head down toward the takeoff zone. A boy and girl met up with me there. The boy was the same one from last night. I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. We gathered to go over the plans once more.
“Get in, get out, stay out of sight, and don’t get caught.” The boy reminded us. Easy enough, I thought I hope. Probably not. We jumped into the black SUV and watched the building disappear into a speck.

The driver stopped to let us out about three miles out from our destination. We walked in silence until the building was in sight. About a half a mile out, the girl took the over watch leaving the boy and me alone. We came closer to the building and he lifted his hand towards his chest. He pulled the neck of his shirt away from him with one hand, as the other made its way down into his shirt. I watched him as he pulled a gold chain from around his neck. He held the dog-tag shaped emblem in his hand, letting the chain sway in the air as he walked.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It was my grandfather’s,” He said. “He gave it to me just before he died on a mission. He told me that it would keep me safe. I haven’t taken it off since.”
“Oh.” I looked away as he wrapped it around his neck and tucked it back into his shirt.
“Hey...” he trailed off. “Um…I’m sorry about last night. It’s kinda my job.”
I laughed. “It’s cool. No hard feelings right?” I stuck my hand out to him. He took it and nodded.
“Yeah it’s cool. So what were you doing?”
“Oh… um nothing. Just getting some fresh air.”
He glanced in my direction and squared his eyes at me. “Yeah okay. By the way, the name’s Travis.”
“Jo.”

The building was a worn down old metal shack with rust everywhere like splattered paint. If someone hit the walls just hard enough, the whole thing would come down. I knelt down at the entrance and pulled out my tools. Grabbing what looked like a pair tweezers and I pick the door open. I cracked the door open just enough so I could see around the old shack. The shack was pretty much empty, except for a few metal shelves that held some dusty books.
I walked over to the bookshelf and thumbed the spines of the books. Pulling one from the shelf, dust fell covering the tops of my shoes. A picture fell onto the ground as I flipped the book open. I knelt to pick it up. I blew the dust off of it and stopped. The picture was the same the one in my room. I examined the picture more carefully; the woman had long brown hair and the man with short black hair. A chill ran down my spine. I shoved the picture back and pushed the book back into its place.
I walked around the shack and came across a door. I tried the handle. It was unlocked. I pushed myself through the door. I felt along the wall for the light switch. The lights came on. The room was filled with cardboard boxes with scribbles written all over them. One said “Our precious.”
I lifted the lid and shuffled through the items. A doll, a few books, a bottle, and a teddy bear. I held the bear to the light. The little collar caught my attention It said, “To our precious daughter.” I had the same bear when I was little. I smiled at the old memory of my parents giving me the bear for my fifth birthday. I placed the bear back into the box and walked away.

A cool breeze grazed against my skin as the lights turned off. I continued to make my way around the old shack when I felt something like a string wrap around my foot. A trap, I screamed in my head. I felt another rope wrap around both of my ankles and pull me towards the sky, hitting my head on the floor. The lights flickered on, and voices came from all directions circling me.
Remember don’t tell them anything if you get caught. Mr. R’s voice echoed in my head.
A woman walked towards me with a friendly smile. She had long brown hair and green eyes. She was from the picture. A man walked behind her, he had black hair with green eyes, also from the picture. They stopped right before me and knelt down so we were face to face. They smiled at each other, then at me.
“Hello, Jo,” they said “Our precious daughter.”