I sit on the cold, hard chair, staring at the bald man standing in front of me. The lady in the white coat is next to me, holding my arm. "This is very important, Daisy," she says, her voice sharp like a teacher's. "You need to be good, okay? This is your last test."

I nod, but I don't really understand. The man smiles at me, but it's not a nice smile. It's like he's happy about something bad. "Can you say 'telekinesis', Daisy?" the lady asks.

I try to say it, but the word is too big, twisting in my mouth like a wriggly worm. "Tele…kine…sis?" I say slowly. It sounds wrong, but the lady nods.

"Very good, Daisy. This man can move things with his mind. And maybe, if you're very good, you can do that too."

I look at the man, curious and a little scared. How can someone move things with their mind? I wish I could do that. I could move myself out of here, back to Mom and Dad.

The lady wipes my arm with something cold and then gives me a shot. It stings, and I wince, but I don't cry. I'm trying to be strong. The lady says I have to be strong.

The bald man steps back and looks at me. His eyes are like two pieces of ice. I feel something weird, like a hand pressing on my head, but there's no hand. It's just air. But it's heavy, pushing down on me.

The pressure gets stronger and stronger. My head feels like it's going to explode, but there's no pain. Just pressure. I can't think. I can't breathe. My vision starts to blur, and it gets black around the edges, and I feel something wet on my face. Blood. In my mouth. From my nose.

I'm scared. More scared than I've ever been. But then, something changes inside me. It's like a switch flips. I'm not scared anymore. I'm angry. Really, really angry.

I don't know what happens next. It's like a burst of something wild and strong inside my head. The next thing I know, the bald man is flying backward, crashing through the door. The door comes off its hinges, making a loud, terrible noise.

The lady just writes something down, not even looking surprised. But I'm surprised. I'm more than surprised. I'm shocked. I did that. I moved him with my mind. I moved him with my mind really hard.

I stand up, feeling different. Stronger. Powerful. I'm not just Daisy anymore. I'm something else. Something more.

I look at my hands, expecting them to glow or something, but they look the same. Just my small, normal hands. But they don't feel normal. They feel like they're buzzing with something new. Fuzzy around the edges.

The lady looks at me, finally paying attention. "Very good, Daisy," she says, her voice cold. "You did well. You're not going to the bad kid place."

I don't care about the bad kid place. I don't care about anything she says. All I care about is the feeling inside me. The power.

I look at the broken door and the bald man lying on the ground. He's not moving. I feel a twinge of fear. Did I hurt him? But then the anger comes back, burning away the fear. "He tried to hurt me."

"He did. And you did a good job hurting him back. Do you want another penguin?" The lady says, with a fake smile.

I stare at my hands. "Did I kill him?"

She glances back at him. "Maybe. What would you like as a reward?"

I look at him, waiting for him to start moving. Or start blinking. Or breathing. He doesn't do any of those things, so I look at the lady again. "Can I have candy?"

"Besides candy," she says. "Your nutrient profile is important to maintain. But I can get you books, if you want. Or more stuffies. Or maybe a Gameboy?" She asks.

I blink at her a couple of times. "Do I get batteries, too?"

She laughs. "We can give you some batteries, but you'll have to earn them after the first set. Does that sound fair?"

I nod. That sounds fair.

----------------------------------------

I wake up, my heart racing, sweat sticking my hair to my forehead. It's dark, but the dark is alive, pulsing with the echoes of screams that still ring in my ears. They're not real. Not anymore. But they feel real.

I try to move, but my body doesn't listen. It's like I'm back there, in that room, with the cold walls and colder hands. My breath comes out in short, sharp gasps, each one a battle.

Then I notice it. The weirdness. The wrongness.

Everything is floating. The penguins, the blankets, even the mattress is slightly off the ground. It's like gravity forgot to work down here.

It's me. I'm doing this. "Gravity nullification", that's what I'm remembering.

The door bangs open, and Miss Patches comes in, her feet not touching the ground. She looks like an astronaut, drifting in space, but her face is all worry and no awe. She drags herself down by the railing like she's floating in the water.

"Daisy," she says, her voice calm but strong. "You gotta breathe, kiddo. In and out. Slow."

I try to follow her instructions, but my breaths are still jagged. Miss Patches grabs onto a pipe running along the ceiling and pulls herself closer. She's floating right in front of me now, her eyes locked on mine.

"That's it," she says, as I finally manage a somewhat normal breath. "You're okay. You're safe."

Slowly, the floating things start to settle back down. The mattress touches the floor again, and the penguins plop into a soft heap. My heart is still pounding, but it's like I've won a fight. A small one, but still a win.

Miss Patches floats down and sits on the edge of the mattress. She's got something in her hand - a manga, colorful and worn.

"You up for a story?" she asks, a small smile on her lips.

I nod, still trying to steady my breathing. She opens the manga and starts to read.

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Miss Patches turns the pages of the manga, her finger tracing the panels as she reads aloud. The colors are bright, almost leaping off the page, and the girl in the story, she's like no one I've ever seen.

"See here," Miss Patches points to a panel where the girl stands at the edge of a cliff, her clothes tattered, her eyes gazing out at a land overrun with darkness and strange creatures. "She's just arrived in this world, all confused and scared. But look at her eyes, Daisy. She's fierce, like she's ready to take on whatever comes her way."

Her voice brings the picture to life, and I can almost feel the wind, taste the fear and excitement of that girl.

Then she turns the page, and there's chaos, a village on fire, monsters everywhere. The villagers are begging, pleading with the girl to help them.

"But she's not a hero," Miss Patches reads, her voice tinged with something like respect. "She doesn't want to be their savior. She wants something else, something more."

The next page shows the girl, her expression hard and determined, as she walks away from the burning village, leaving cries of despair behind her.

"She's making a choice," Miss Patches explains, her finger lingering on the image of the girl walking away. "A choice to be her own person, not what everyone else wants her to be."

We turn another page, and there he is, the Demon Lord. He's terrifying, covered in shadows and armor, power radiating from him. The girl stands before him, tiny in comparison, but she doesn't look scared. She looks… right, like she belongs there.

"The Demon Lord," Miss Patches says, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Everyone fears him, hates him. But she sees something in him, something no one else does. She sees a kindred spirit."

The panels show the Demon Lord and the girl talking, their words a dance of power and understanding. Then, in a dramatic spread, she kneels before him, pledging herself to his cause.

"It's not about being good or evil," Miss Patches says softly, almost to herself. "It's about power, and what you do with it. She chooses to stand with the Demon Lord, to be more than just a pawn in someone else's game."

The next few pages are a whirlwind of action. The girl, now standing beside the Demon Lord, battles armies, conjures dark magic, and faces down heroes who come to stop them. But she's unstoppable, fierce, and free.

"She doesn't just follow him," Miss Patches narrates, her voice filled with excitement. "She becomes his equal, his partner. Together, they're a force that nothing can stand against."

The final page shows the girl and the Demon Lord on thrones, ruling over a land of shadows and monsters. The girl's smile is triumphant, her eyes alight with power and purpose. "Spoiler alert. Next chapter she's going to cut his head off and start ruling his kingdom. And we can read that chapter together tomorrow, ok?"

Miss Patches finishes the chapter, and the room is quiet again, except for our breathing.

"You like it?" she asks, her eyes searching my face.

I nod, more vigorously this time. "She's cool," I say, my voice still a bit shaky. "She's not like the others. She's like… she's like me."

Miss Patches chuckles, but it's not mean. It's warm, like her smile. "Yeah, she's a bit of a badass, isn't she? Like you."

I feel something warm in my chest, something that's not like the fire of anger or the ice of fear. It's softer, gentler.

Miss Patches stands up, still holding the manga. "Get some more sleep, Daisy. We got a big day tomorrow. More training, more stories. You're gonna be okay."

She leaves, and I'm alone again, but it's different now. The room doesn't feel as cold, as empty. The manga sits beside me, its pages a promise of more - more stories, more power, more of this strange feeling that I don't have a name for yet.

I lay back down, pulling the penguins close. They're just stuffed toys, but they feel like shields, guarding me from the nightmares that wait in the dark.

As I drift back to sleep, I think about the girl in the story, about the Demon Lord and the world they rule.

That should be me. I should be the Demon Lord.

----------------------------------------

I'm not the same Daisy anymore. The lady in white, the new one, she's always watching me, scribbling notes. I don't care. They're all the same. They poke, they prod, they ask me to do things with my mind. Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don't. It depends on how I feel.

I'm sitting in the middle of a room. It's plain, with white walls and a single light. They call it the testing room. I call it the boring room. There's a bunch of stuff on the floor in front of me. Blocks, balls, a metal spoon. They want me to move them. I've done it a thousand times.

"Begin, Daisy," the lady in white says. Her voice is flat, like she's bored too. Maybe she is. Maybe we're all bored here.

I stare at the blocks. I'm not angry right now, and it's always easier when I'm angry. But I can do it without being angry. It just takes more effort. I focus, feeling that weird buzz inside my head, like bees flying around. The block wobbles, then slowly rises.

"Good, keep going," she says.

I lift the other blocks, one by one. Then the balls. They float in the air, like they're in space. I think about space sometimes. I wonder if it's quiet there. I like quiet.

The spoon is last. It's harder because it's heavier. But I can do it. I concentrate, feeling the pressure build in my head. The spoon trembles, then lifts, quivering in the air.

"Sufficient," the lady says. "Now, the new exercise."

I put everything down. The spoon clatters. I look at her, waiting.

She points to the other side of the room. There's something there, covered with a cloth. "Move the cloth without touching it," she instructs.

That's new. I've never done that before. But it sounds easy. I focus on the cloth, imagining it flying away. But it doesn't move. I frown. I try harder, feeling the buzz grow louder, angrier.

Suddenly, the cloth rips off, like it's scared of me. Underneath, there's a cage with a mouse in it. The mouse looks scared too. I feel a twinge in my stomach. I used to like mice.

"Now, Daisy, lift the cage," the lady says.

I don't want to scare the mouse. But they don't like it when I don't do what they say. I lift the cage, gently. The mouse runs in circles, panicking.

"Enough," the lady says. "Put it down."

I lower the cage. The mouse is still scared. I feel bad for it. But only a little. I don't feel things as much as I used to.

"You're improving," the lady says. "Your control is better. But we need more."

More. They always want more. I nod, not because I agree, but because it's easier than arguing.

The lady leaves, and another one comes in. This time, she's carrying a tablet and a small, fake gun. It looks real, but I know it's not. They've been teaching me about guns.

"Time for your desensitization training," the new lady says.

I don't argue. I just sit still, watching as she sets up the tablet on a stand. It's like a TV screen, but smaller.

"Watch the images," she instructs. "Your reaction is important. Remember, control your emotions."

The screen flickers on. Images start appearing. They're not nice images. They're violent, scary. People fighting, things breaking, chaos. Blood. A lot of red. I feel something in my stomach, like a twist. But I remember what they said about controlling emotions.

I keep watching, my face blank. The images get worse, more violent. But I don't look away. I can't look away. They're training me not to.

"Now," the lady says, handing me the fake gun. "Practice your aim. Pretend these are your targets."

I take the gun. It's heavy in my hand, but I'm getting used to it. I point it at the screen, pretending to shoot the images. Bang. Bang. Bang. I imagine the noise in my head because the gun doesn't make any.

"Good," the lady says. "Focus on your targets. Detach your feelings."

I keep firing, my eyes following the images. I feel weird, like I'm floating outside my body, watching myself. This isn't a game. It's training. Training for something bad. But I can't stop.

The images finally stop. The screen goes blank. The lady takes the gun and turns off the tablet. "You're improving," she says. "Your emotional control is getting better."

I don't feel better. I feel empty. Hollow.

"You can go back to your room," she says.

I stand up, leaving the room with the tablet and the fake gun. My room is just down the hall. It's always the same. Plain, small, boring. But it's mine. Sort of.

I sit on my bed, staring at the wall. It's white, blank. I got markers a couple of months ago and they let me draw on the walls but I'm not sure what to draw. I drew a penguin once. Mr. Waddles is still there. I love him.

I think about the images, the gun. They're making me into something. I don't know what. I thought it was a superhero first but now I'm not sure. All I know is I'm changing. I'm not just Daisy anymore. I'm something else.

I lie down, trying to sleep. But sleep is hard to find. My mind is too full of images, sounds, feelings. Feelings I'm supposed to control.

I close my eyes, but I can still see the images. I can still feel the weight of the gun in my hand. It's like a ghost, haunting me.

I wonder what Mom and Dad would think if they saw me now. Would they even recognize me? I'm not sure I recognize myself. My hair is all long and choppy. Greasy. They don't let me wash it that much.

I hold my Gameboy to my chest. I'm getting really good at Tetris.