Welcome to my book!

It was night when a deafening roar rang in her family’s ears, and for some, those would be their last memories.

She woke up. Dust was swirling throughout the room; her sister, still breathing, lay on the floor, her body almost unrecognisable. The sight was too disturbing to bear, so she looked away and tried to ignore it.

Her parents’ limbs had practically been blown apart; the sight hurt more than her broken rib, the pains competing with one another.

Her little brother, whom she had sworn to protect, lay dead on the floor; his disfigured face was almost unrecognisable.

She crawled over to her parents, closing their eyes with her fingers and giving them both one last hug, and did the same for her little brother, who probably didn’t even know what had happened.

Everything hurt; she wanted to stay there until she died, but she went over to her sister and carried her to the door, which was buried under the debris from the explosion.

With great difficulty, she cleared away the stones and kicked the door, which shattered.

She pulled her sister close to her; it was the early hours of the morning, and they were alive in the middle of nowhere – there was no one to help them.

She walked until dawn and found shelter in an abandoned house.

It had furniture, blankets and some debris lying about, but it was all she had.

She could make do with that.

A few weeks passed.

Living in that rubbish tip had become a routine: waking up, working, cooking and sleeping – that was what she did, what she always did.

Her ‘beds’ were always made, the pots and pans washed, and so on.

Whilst Ivory was making dinner, she heard a knock at the door; this didn’t happen very often, and it was usually just people who’d got lost, but they knocked again, and again, and again.

She opened the door and found herself face to face with a well-dressed gentleman who asked her the following question:

‘Good evening, Miss Ivory. Our group has been observing you for some time, searching for young apprentices from school to school to help us with our project.’

‘Who are you?’ she said sharply.

‘We’re a group of scientists from SHIELD, and we’ve learnt that you’re the person we’ve been looking for,’ he said, stepping closer and whispering, ‘And the salary is 8,000.’

‘We’ve been watching you for a while, and we’ve realised you’re perfect for our latest project. Intelligent, tough, and completely obsessed with science.’

'And what exactly would I be doing?'

'Data, research, that sort of thing'

'Why me?' she says, sounding suspicious

'Isn’t it obvious? You’re perfect; you see what others don’t, you observe before you speak; no trainee could be better, and as you’re so clever, you wouldn’t turn it down, would you?' he says, touching her face, making her feel a bit uneasy.

He was kind, but it could be a façade.

But what harm could come of it? It was just a scientific project.

She knew it was madness to simply go off with strangers, but it was an opportunity to give her sister a decent life, so she accepted.

They gave her instructions and a location, telling her they would take her sister in and that she shouldn’t worry.

They gave her instructions and an address, telling her they would take her sister in and that she shouldn’t worry.

She knocked on the door, only to be met with a blow to the head from a saucepan.

She woke up in a tiny iron cell, and there was no sign of her sister.

The same man who had invited her was standing right in front of her.

She rushed to the bars and shouted:

‘WHERE IS MY SISTER?’

‘Calm down, you animal,’ he said with disgust, slapping her. ‘She wasn’t cut out for the project; she must be in some orphanage. But now let’s talk about you.’

His smile grew slowly, which frightened Ivory, though she didn’t show it.

We’ve been watching you, child, for a long time. You survived a bomb and took care of everything on your own—that’s why we chose you.’

He stepped closer and touched her chin.

‘We’ll start the tests soon,’ he said, pushing her against the wall.

As he left, a large logo appeared behind him: HYDRA.

After a while, it all clicked into place: she wasn’t an assistant in the experiment; she was the experiment.

She looked around; there wasn’t much there—barred windows, two other cells, and that was it.

She stayed there for hours, staring at the wall, and even drew pictures on the flimsy wall, but there was no sign of food or water.

She began doing mental arithmetic; she always did that when she was bored.

74 + (10 ÷ 2) – 36 = 43, 84 – (55 √(96 ÷ 3)) = −227.126983722....

She was interrupted by the crash of the door opening.

‘Your dinner.’

t was a white, slimy mess with a rather unpleasant-looking steak.

She picked it up with her hands, as she’d been given no cutlery, and swallowed it with difficulty, realising that the slime was simply extremely soggy rice and that what was so unpleasant about the meat was that it was rotten, whilst maggots crawled out of her mouth.

She ate it all, without giving in to the urge to vomit, refuse it or cry; besides, if she didn’t eat, she would probably die.

The taste spread through her mouth, sending shivers down her spine.

‘It’s delicious,’ she growled.

The man smiled and left, leaving her alone again.

The wind battered against the bars, making noises that kept her awake, not to mention the cold that left her hand stiff.

She spent the night awake, listening to the crickets, humming or daydreaming.

Time passed extremely slowly; minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days, but finally dawn broke and it began to warm up ever so slightly.

Glancing to one side, she realised she was not alone – she was in the company of a filthy rat.

‘I deserve this,’

she thought, shooing the rat away and sitting in the corner of the cell. She leaned against the bars, watching the sunrise, whilst a sense of longing flooded her mind, along with a guilt she had been harbouring for some time.

Her sister is alone; her parents? Dead; her brother? Dead.

She has no family and never has had one, for half of them were dead, and the other half never cared enough to visit them.

Ivory looked at the door, hoping someone would open it, that they’d bring more of that awful food—water with mould in it—she didn’t mind; she just wanted something to fill her stomach.

Flashes of light appeared through the crack in the door, sending shivers down her spine every time she saw them.

Sometimes she wonders what they’re like, whether they’d be nice, or whether it was better that she never actually got to know them.

She huddled in a corner; the noises coming from the room next door were strange, but she ignored them.

Hours seemed to pass, and some flashbacks began to surface – memories she hadn’t even realised she had.

Until, finally, someone opened the door – but not with food, rather with a pair of handcuffs.

They opened the cell door and didn’t give her a single second to escape.

Two men grabbed her and handcuffed her, kicking her out of the cell.

Despair took hold of her for some reason; she struggled and screamed, but it was no use – she was weaker than them.

She was led into a room and strapped to a chair, her hands tied and handcuffed behind the chair, next to her feet, preventing her from moving at all.

A man in protective gear appeared with an object emitting a blinding light; she closed her eyes tightly, but even so, the yellow light flooded her eyes.

The light drew nearer, burning her skin slightly at first, and as it came closer, her skin seemed to boil, bubbling.

They pressed the object against her forehead, charring the flesh whilst her blood trickled down her face.

The pain was so intense that words seemed to cease to exist; her body stiffened, freezing completely.

She felt the handcuffs and ropes melting in the heat; her mind began to harbour thoughts of someone else, visions that were not her own—her own image, and the object on her forehead.

She felt the light invading her, entering her without permission.

Not literally, but mentally, as if it were now part of her.

It looked like a stone—or rather, a crystal—yellow and far too small to cause all that damage.

Gems. Mind.

The two words sprang into her head suddenly; she didn’t know what they meant, but she knew they were powerful.

Familiar words, smells and sensations flooded her, delving into memories she both wanted and didn’t want to relive.

Her parents’ cold skin, the smell of rotting flesh, her mother saying her final ‘I love you’.

But they began to mingle with other random and confusing ones: fear, guilt.

His thoughts went off the rails; sad, tender, trivial, present, past and future moments all merged, as if they were one.

Suddenly, everything focused into a single vision:

Cold metal.

Fear.

So much fear.

It felt as though an explosion was taking place inside her; when everyone had moved away, the heat became bearable, and her eyes opened, her vision still slightly blurred.

The shock was so great that it even overshadowed the pain, as a magical mist rose from her hands, the same colour as the jewel that had burned her.

After the shock, the pain set in, causing her body to writhe and nearly send her tumbling from her chair.

The gem seemed to draw her in, even after what had happened.

Was it curiosity?

Comfort?

Or recognition?

She glanced to the side.

Blood.

It wasn’t hers.

Wh-

Scientist.

It was his, the one holding the stone.

She smiled, faintly, but she smiled.

Her sense of time had improved; she knew it hadn’t been 30 minutes, but 23.

And finally, she realised.

‘I am not hers; we are one,’ and shortly afterwards, she fainted.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

She woke up in a white room, white lights shining on her face, people around her, bandages, blood and a slight dizziness, and then she closed her eyes.

She woke up again in the same room, with no door handle and a large mirror in front of her.

There was a large bandage on her forehead, which was already bloodstained; her head was shaved, and she could still see the burn mark running down her face. Ivory looked at herself and saw a mere laboratory rat; she didn’t look like her usual self, but she soon dismissed the thought – it was just her hair

She wiped away her tears; it was all nonsense. She’d just had her head shaved—it was no big deal, just a bit of drama.

She laughed at herself, touching the bandage and realising the blood wasn’t fresh anymore.

It’s not even that bad.’

She ran her hand over her head, feeling a tickling sensation on her hands.

She looked at herself in the mirror and joked that she was getting ready.

She twirled round, danced and took her mind off things, only stopping when the dizziness set in.

She was fine, wasn’t she?

She was moved to a more colourful room; they gave her coloured pencils, paper and tasty food.

She didn’t know why, but she began to feel safe in that place; they would tuck her into bed every day, praise her, show her affection – she even had a soft toy.

Everything was perfect.

In just a few days, her life there changed – it really did change.

A man came in, with a gentle, affectionate smile.

He came to visit her every day, asked her questions, played with her and was always understanding.

‘So, young lady, do you remember your name?’

‘Ivory.’

‘Great. Look, what happened there is in the past, all right? Always remember that.’ “That was just a botched test; I’m so sorry for the pain you went through,” she said, stroking her cheek.

“Are they going to do that again?” she whispered.

“Yes, but it won’t hurt, and we’ll explain everything to you beforehand, OK? Everything will be fine; you’re safe.”

She nodded and stood up to drink some water.

“Any—”

She shook her head.

The young man chokes slightly, but replies

— Great — he jots it down in his notebook

She drank the water whilst sitting with her legs tucked up, smiling at the man.

— Our session’s over, right? Try to sleep on your own tonight; get some rest for tomorrow

And he left.

Again. I

vory tapped her little legs on the floor, looking around with a pout; she lay down on the floor and sighed.

She played with the magic that emerged from her fingers.

It tickled.

She wrapped her hand around it.

Warm.

She tucked the mist away again, crawling back to her bed.

She clutched her soft toy and closed her eyes tightly, but sleep wouldn’t come.

She wiggled her fingers, tapping her foot on the bed.

She tossed and turned; what felt like minutes turned out to be the whole night, and when she got up to look outside, it was already morning.

Already?

She shook her head, thinking she might have fallen asleep without realising it.

That was all.

It’s time for the session.

She thought, settling herself on the bed.

She placed her hands in her lap and sat up straight, waiting.

She put on a smile and stared intently at the door.

A little while later, the man appeared with the same warm smile.

‘How’s my princess?’

She liked being treated that way, so much so that she tried a little too hard.

She looked towards the corner, thinking for a second about what to say.

‘Fine!’ she said cheerfully.

‘Great! Because today we’re going to play a few games!’

She smiled and sat down in the little chair, waiting for instructions.

‘Take this pencil.’

She did so quickly, eager for the next command.

‘And draw whatever comes to mind, anything.’

A scribble of a square appeared, with a mist inside it.

‘What did you mean by that?’

She stared at the paper for far too long, but nothing came to mind, not a single word.

‘I… I don’t know, that’s just what I thought,’ she said, her smile faltering slightly.

The man fell silent; his smile faded for half a second, but Ivory noticed.

She knew she’d done something.

She gripped her pencil, her head dropping, whilst the mist slipped from her hand.

The man cleared his throat.

‘W-well, hello there, little one, who’s this?’ he asked as the mist played around her hand

‘Er… I’m not quite sure, but she’s nice’

‘Very well,’ he took a deep breath and jotted something down in his notebook

‘What’s this… friend like?’

‘She’s warm; sometimes she accidentally burns the tips of my fingers’

‘Does it hurt?’

She hesitated for a few seconds, pressed her lips together and shook her head.

Even though it wasn’t entirely true

'Perfect' he says, jotting it down as always 'Our session for today is over, my love. Look after yourself and get plenty of rest, and if you can, do a few more drawings; it helps take your mind off things'

She nods and waits for the man to leave the room before getting up from her position.

Ivory soon picks up a piece of paper and starts drawing.

Whatever comes to mind, exactly as the young man said.

She sketches some memories, and even tries to capture some sensations.

She draws non-stop, and when she realises she’s run out of paper, she smiles.

‘I’ve done a good job.’

The window, as always, was left open so she could watch the world outside.

The curtain flutters against the wall, a soft whistling sound as it brushes against the window bars.

She tries to reach the glass pane covering the window.

The little girl climbs onto the bed, jumps up, stretches out her arms, but can’t quite reach it.

Then the mist appears, very gently, and she draws it close to herself, feeling its warmth.

She wraps herself in the blanket and squeezes her eyes shut, but once again, sleep won’t come.

Finally, she opens her eyes and plays with the little arm of her soft toy; it looks just like her old one.

She peered out from under the blanket, seeing the sliver of light beneath the door.

She tried to listen for something, but the conversations were too muffled, and the noises drowned them out even more.

Her mind turned to the hands of the clock, and she began to count every minute.

27, 28, 29, 30…

Half an hour had passed; she turned onto her side – nothing – then onto the other – same thing.

Then she opened her hand; the mist billowed out more strongly; the warmth comforted her, reminding her that she was safe.

She thought that was the problem, but no, it remained the same, only warmer.

The wind blew—1, 2, 3, 4—and then stopped.

They didn’t know it, but she’d been like this for a few days now; she hadn’t been able to sleep.

Ivory’s mind was cleared; after a long period of chaos, her eyes closed and she fell asleep – only briefly, but at last she found some rest.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

She didn’t have any dreams; it was a night of deep sleep.

Normally, she would wake at sunrise, but it was already late when she emerged from under the duvet, the sun blinding her for a few moments.

The man was already waiting, so she jumped out of bed, opened her eyes wide and smiled.

‘Overslept, princess?’

‘Yes…’ she says, looking down

‘It’s all right, my love, at least you’ve done all these… lovely drawings!’ he says, stroking her head

She smiled, relieved; she’d done the right thing, everything was fine.

‘Today we’re going to play a really cool game!’

‘What? What!’

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

‘The first one works like this: I’m going to think of a colour, and you have to write down the first colour that springs to mind, OK?’

She nodded and sat down on the chair, which was far too small for her, but she didn’t mind.

They stared at each other for a while until a name popped into her head.

Joe.

‘Is your name Joe?’ she asked softly.

‘Y-yes, why, my love?’

‘It just popped into my head…’

Fear.

Fear.

FEAR. FEAR. FEAR-

‘Are you afraid, Mr Joe?’

‘N-no, my love…’ he said, breathing heavily.

Yellow.

‘You were thinking of yellow, weren’t you?’

He nodded, his eyes fixed on her.

‘Did I do something wrong?’

‘I made a mistake, I’m sorry, please.’

The mist spread like a thin layer across the floor, bringing Joe back.

‘No! No, my love, you didn’t do anything wrong; in fact, you won the game.’

'Really?'

She said as the mist receded

I did well.

I did it right.

Everything…

Absolutely everything.

Right.

'Yes, you did very well, you did perfectly well!'

Ivory smiles, happy to have done well.'

'Let’s wrap up this session for today then—'

'But didn’t you say it would be three games?'

'No… — the man pauses for a moment, as if his body had drifted away from his mind — I mean, yes, I did say that, but we’re short on time; we’ll do more tomorrow, OK?'

She nods.

'Get some rest and get ready for the next game, all right?'

Looking down, it takes her a few seconds to agree.

Joe leaves the room and Ivory goes to tidy up her drawings.

She stacks them all up and leaves them by the table; last night’s wind has died down.

She sits on the edge of the bed and takes a deep breath.

She hears her name called through the door, which had previously muffled everything that was said.

She spots a crack in the door and moves closer.

She peeks through the crack, watching Joe talking frantically.

‘… she — if the next…’

‘You — regret it!’

‘She… — control…’

‘She’s — a monster!’

‘That thing — power…’

‘That’s enough, Jo… Ivory?’ said an unfamiliar young man, looking in her direction.

She cowered, glancing desperately from side to side.