- 23 -

                                    

                                          
I had spent hours laying in the backseat, elbows folded under my head, trying to lull myself into unconsciousness but I couldn't do it. I was too aware of the fact that I wasn't lying on my back in a pristine white sleep shell, thin sheet pulled over my body, small grey leads pressed against my temples. I was here. I was in a car with a boy who had contemplated murder after I had killed his family. I knew he wouldn't do it, but it was cold in the night and I desperately needed relief from the anxiety boiling in my stomach.
                          
Finally, I drifted into some semblance of unconsciousness from the pure exhaustion of the day. At the facility, those leads would send me pleasant dreams of family back home. The doctors told me all they were doing was stimulating certain parts of the brain to trigger specific memories and trick my body into releasing dopamine naturally, but now I know those dreams were fake. This time, I sleep restlessly. Visions of syringes and limp guards plague my mind and I can't get it to stop. A blurry face I make out to be Doctor Selden's leans toward me, teeth a little too sharp and nails a little too long to be human. "This won't hurt a bit," her echoing voices says, laced with unfathomable hatred and I try to scream, but something is locking my jaw shut and I can't move, it's just a dream, I will never be free, they're going to find me —
                          
I lurch upright in the seat, shaking.
                          
Slowly, I glance over at Brandon, but he's still sleeping peacefully, slumped over the center console. Insects chirp outside. I cast my eyes out the window and set a hand on my chest in a feeble attempt to calm my racing heart. So this is what normal dreams are like, I think to myself. I decide I don't like them.
                          
I don't even bother to slip on my boots when I crack open the car door and step outside. The night breeze is cool and refreshing across the bare skin of my arms. Stars glitter in the sky above me and I'm reminded of my situation outside of the Dynagenesis facility. I'm grateful I'm here, but at what cost?
                          
For a while, I just sit and think, spinning a blade of grass between two fingers. My memories are almost as painful as my dreams and the musical cacophony of species I've never seen do nothing to sway the guilt that drags me down. I still hear Brandon's screams for his brother echoing in the wind, and I shiver. Maybe the Category 10's aren't the only dangerous ones. 
                          
"Having trouble sleeping?" A voice asks, and I let the piece of grass flutter to the ground. Brandon is standing just outside of the car, staring up to where I'm perched on the roof. I don't even remember climbing up here. "Mind if I joined you?"
                          
"Come on up." I fold my hands in my lap and watch with thinly veiled amusement as Bradon clambers up unceremoniously. At last, he plops down next to me, our feet dangling over the edge side-by-side. A few seconds ago, the moment seemed funny, but now that no one's talking, the guilt starts to seep back in.
                          
"What were you thinking about?" He murmurs.
                          
I could lie and tell him I just don't feel like sleeping, but I'm getting close to trusting him. "Had a nightmare," I admit, wringing my fingers nervously. 
                          
He hums in agreement and nods. "I'm right there with you. I freaked out when you weren't in the backseat."
                          
"Sorry. Fresh air helps clear my head."
                          
"Yeah, me too."
                          
We fall into a silence, a mutual understanding of each other's situations. Brandon is young and shouldn't have had to experience the things I put him through, but it's too late now, and the quiet of the night makes us both calm.
                          
"So what do normal people do?" I ask quietly. "Like, at night. I take it my sleep routines are far from normal."
                          
Brandon shrugs. "Most people don't deal with the same stuff we do. My... my parents, they used to tuck me and Jason into bed and tell us a bedtime story. I used to think it was stupid, but now I..." he makes a sad half-laugh, half-choking sound. "Now I really miss it." He sniffs and moonlight reflects off the tears on his red cheeks.
                          
I nod, feeling his sadness seeping into me. "They used to tell me stories at the facility when I was really little. I kind of remember them, vaguely. Honestly, though, what I imagine the rest of the world is gonna be like is more fascinating than anything they could have ever told me."
                          
"The world is filled with a lot of bad people, but they're mostly good. It's a lot of the strangers-help-strangers mentality. Like, sure, some people suck, but I've had a lot of really good experiences and I had a lot of people supporting me."
                          
I nod. I kind of understand. "What's beautiful about the world, though?"
                          
He sighs and leans back until he's lying flat on the roof. I lie next to him. He crosses his arms behind his head, staring up at the stars with a whimsical look in his eyes. "I've always loved music. Every kind I've heard. '20s to '80s, Taylor Swift to Apashe, classical to blues. You won't find words that speak to your soul more than they do in music, backed by a good beat. Sometimes I just stick my headphones in and ignore everything that's going on, losing myself in the music, turning up my phone so loud that my ears ring when I pause it. I like music that makes me feel powerful, but mostly my tastes cater to what I'm feeling. Right now, I'm stuck in an endless cycle of dubstep and electronics because of..." he swallows. "Because of Jason. He was really into that stuff."
                          
I nod, and he turns to look at me. "What about you?"
                          
I'm startled. "Me?"
                          
"Yeah, you. I don't mean to be insensitive but you're here, aren't you? What inspired you to escape from Dynagenesis?"
                          
I look back up at the sky, thinking. I don't really know. They treated me horribly, like a test subject, trapped in a cage and only let out to be monitored. I was willing to risk a world full of ten times more torture and pain if it meant I could get away from them. "Humans are curious by nature," I decide aloud, but Brandon remains silent, sensing that isn't the end of my explanation. It was true, even when sometimes I felt less than human. I know I'm more than human now, something elite, something dangerous. I always wanted to get out. But what really motivated me?
                          
A pair of vibrant blue eyes comes to mind, and I duck my head. "I mean, you'd think we were all super helpless, right? Weak and miserable, despite our abilities. The most incredible thing was that most of us never lost that spark. Kept in almost around-the-clock isolation, but it only made me angrier." I sigh. "I don't know. It sounds stupid, but the other mutants were the closest things to family, and the fact that I wasn't the only one who wanted out really pushed me to do it, regardless of the risk. I was the only one capable of doing it."
                          
"That's really brave of you."
                          
"It's what I had to do. But yeah, I guess I kinda put my own neck on the line."
                          
"So you really want to find them. The other mutants. Your almost-friends."
                          
"Yeah. I don't know where they are, or where to start looking, but I need them safe."
                          
Brandon stretches his hand over to me, and I squint at his confusing gesture. "It's a handshake," he explains. "Put your hand against mine and we'll shake on it. It means I'm gonna help you find the other mutants, and hopefully take down Dynagenesis at the same time."
                          
I shake his hand, even though the motion feels weird. I send him a tight-lipped smile with fire blazing behind my eyes. We might actually have a shot at doing this.
                          
"You know what? It's like 2 A.M," Brandon remarks. "We can do this in the morning. I'm getting some sleep."
                          
"It's a deal." I jump off the roof of the car, flipping perfectly onto the ground, feeling adrenaline rush through my veins at the prospect that we could take down the company that hid me from the world for 16 years. It's time, and I'm prepared. They won't be.