Chapter 1
The television echoed through the large room, creating a comforting resonance for a certain young girl who hadn’t left the couch in two hours. Until her mother approached a small table, took the remote control, and silenced the device.
“Mom, please!” the little girl pleaded, with a face full of supplication and charm.
“You’ve wasted your whole day sitting here. It’s time to do something productive.”
“Mom, just a little longer! There’s nothing productive I can do without getting bored, or tired.”
“That’s your problem, not mine. Solve it,” declared the cold and elegant woman. “Come with me to watch the news, my dear. I’d prefer you studying or reading, but at least you’ll be aware of what truly matters,” she said, turning the TV back on, this time to the news channel.
“News are boring, it’s always the same. Not a day goes by without talking about the economy, politics, or some absurd crimes,” she muttered under her breath.
“Don’t be silly, Caitlyn. One always has to be informed. This knowledge is more important than you think. If you don’t witness the pain and karma of these criminals, you might make the same mistake they did. And if that happens, wouldn’t we end up as miserable and pathetic as them?”
Caitlyn realized that, at some point in her mother’s incomprehensible speech, her words stopped being directed at her and were just a way to soothe her own conscience. A defense mechanism, perhaps? It didn’t make sense to overthink; adults were not something she or any other child could understand.
“After two months without significant attacks from the mutant community, we were informed of an uproar in New York, where one of these criminals ran through the streets of Brooklyn before breaking into a store and terrorizing several civilians. Authorities reported that the criminal had a history of aggressive behavior and multiple mental disorders. However, they reassured the public that there was no need to fear as the criminal had already been neutralized and locked away.”
Caitlyn stared at the videos playing on the screen. In them, a man in his thirties could be seen screaming, sobbing, and running around with seemingly no sense of sanity. Every step he took cracked the floor of the store, and when he crashed into a wall or piece of furniture, they shattered. There was no moment when the man didn’t seem terrified of what he was doing.
“See, Caitlyn? If we behave like animals without decency, we’ll end up like that,” the elegant woman said, glancing directly at her daughter. “But you understand my point, don’t you, darling? The maid said dinner is almost ready. Go tell your father, he’s out hunting in the woods, and make sure you bundle up; there’s snow everywhere outside.” The mother took her daughter’s head and kissed her forehead.
Caitlyn didn’t take long to find her father, she just had a feeling he was there, she could feel it.
“Can I try?” she asked innocently as she approached her father, who was holding one of his best guns.
“You know this one’s very dangerous, you troublemaker,” he laughed as he stashed it into a dirty bag filled with rifles and pistols he used to practice with. “Take this one; you’ve used it a couple of times, it shouldn’t be too hard,” he said, handing it to her.
The blue-haired girl was no novice when it came to this. Since she was little, her father had always taught her how to do things he would typically teach a son, but he only did it to spend more time with his little girl.
Caitlyn aimed at the can she wanted to shoot—it was the furthest away. She took three deep, calm breaths, ensuring she was in the correct position and had her target just where she wanted it. Then she fired.
As soon as she heard the shot, she closed her eyes and immediately opened them again when she calmed her ragged breath. She had hit it. She had done it.
She was going to place the rifle back in its bag and then hug her father, wanting to hear him praise her, but as soon as she turned around, she saw her father lying in the white snow, his head covered in a bright red liquid.
She dropped the rifle, and her legs gave out, leaving her kneeling beside her father’s lifeless body, wiping the blood from her hair, which revealed a hole in his head that Caitlyn couldn’t bear to look at anymore. She didn’t even know what to think—what had happened? One moment she was aiming at a can in the distance, and the next, her father was dead, lying in the snow because a bullet had pierced his skull.
After calling her mother, her life crumbled as quickly and painfully as possible. Since she was only 14, she couldn’t be sent to prison, even though the law classified her as a murderer. She was placed in a juvenile detention center for young people like her who had committed horrible crimes and couldn’t be sent to prison. But before that, she had to endure her mother’s horrible screams and attacks.
When her mother first saw her husband’s corpse in the snow, Caitlyn thought she was going to die at the hands of the same woman who had raised her. Even while Caitlyn was locked up, her mother never visited, never wrote, never called—only sent the money needed to keep Caitlyn in that place.
Even though it wasn’t a prison, the girl couldn’t imagine anything worse. The children cried all the time, and since many of them were there for mental health issues, there were constant fights and wails. Some tried to escape, the older ones tried to smuggle substances into the place, and sometimes, the girls fought, often ending with one of them trying to take the other’s life.
But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part were the voices.
Since that day, Caitlyn couldn’t sleep, read, listen, or do anything that required her attention without ruthless voices echoing in her head.
When there were no screams in the detention center, she could hear what the rest of the children or staff were thinking.
“I hope the boss raises my pay.”
“I want to get out of here.”
“Did the lights go out again?”
“Will she be mad at me?”
“I need new clothes"
She heard everyone’s wishes, but because of the pain and noise, she never heard her own. There were nights when she tried to cover her ears to silence the voices, but when it didn’t work, which it never did, she lost her sanity and screamed and cried until her roommate, Jayce, helped her focus on her own voice or even gave her some sleeping pills he’d smuggled in.
Jayce was a dark-skinned boy, around her age, and unlike the rest, he was well-behaved. He was the only boy in the center Caitlyn spoke to, and they got along very well. He was somewhat reserved, but after a while, he managed to tell Caitlyn why he was there.
Apparently, he had been involved in an unauthorized scientific project, and due to the use of uncontrolled energy by someone who wasn’t a professional, he caused an explosion that killed two civilians. Despite this, Caitlyn trusted him a lot, and at that point in her life, she probably trusted him more than anyone else.
For this reason, she felt like a knife had pierced her abdomen when, without warning, they took her away.
In other circumstances, she would’ve been happy for her release, but none of the men who escorted her to the car and then drove her with her in the back told her where they were taking her. She only knew one thing: whoever had taken her out of there was someone important. Her mother could’ve gotten her out if she wanted, as it only required signing a few things and a large sum of money, something Caitlyn’s mother had no shortage of. But she didn’t do it.
Caitlyn tried not to think about it; she tried to distract herself by watching the large trees pass by through the car window. But it was useless.
Where were they taking her? Who had taken her out of there? Was she safe?
She snapped back to reality when the car stopped abruptly. The men in the front seats ordered her to get out, and so she did. There was no resisting.
When she stepped out of the vehicle, the first thing she noticed was probably the massive mansion in front of her. It stretched across a vast green lawn, which was surrounded by a dense forest. The thousands of windows seemed to make up numerous rooms, which were likely as radiant and elegant as the exterior of the house.
The car behind her quickly sped away, leaving her there, alone.
Then, she saw the large front door open. A tall, slender woman in her thirties stepped out, her hair styled in two buns with a middle part.
“Caitlyn Kiramman, you’ve finally arrived. Please, come in, we’ve everything ready for you,” the kind woman informed her, stepping aside so Caitlyn could enter with her only suitcase.
As soon as she entered, Caitlyn’s eyes fell on the grand hall of the mansion. It split into two long, wide hallways on the left and right, and directly ahead, there was a massive staircase that divided into four parts, revealing even more hallways.
The place was beautiful—the wooden floors, walls, and ceiling seemed to shine before her eyes. For a moment, Caitlyn’s mind was empty, no thoughts, no worries. It was as if she was still that far-off winter day when her mother sent her to find her father in the snowy woods.
Until suddenly, her mind absorbed the noise, and the world seemed like a nightmare once again.
Caitlyn saw numerous children, teenagers, and young adults pass by her, walking or running, all entering different rooms scattered throughout the mansion.
Her mind seemed on the verge of collapsing when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the woman who had welcomed her to the mansion.
“Why don’t you come with me, dear?” Caitlyn nodded obediently and walked right behind the young woman, who was heading down a hallway to the right.
Caitlyn watched the young people, mostly her age, walk by carrying books, backpacks, and notebooks. At first, she was surprised, but then she came to the simple conclusion that the place was a school, although she was still confused as to why all the students wore such casual, colorful, and alternative clothing.
The woman in front of her crossed through an open room filled with sofas, small tables, and a large television mounted on one wall. Then, she turned to a dark door to her right, knocking twice.
Caitlyn and the woman entered the room after receiving an affirmative gesture from the other side of the door. The elegant but simple room, which seemed to be an office, had two walls full of bookshelves, while the other two were lined with windows, letting in warm sunlight.
In the middle of the room was a wooden desk, behind which a beautiful woman with dark skin and a white dress as pure as snow was staring intently at Caitlyn.
“Thank you, Elora, you may leave,” the woman who had guided Caitlyn into the room said quietly. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Caitlyn. Do you know who I am?” Caitlyn looked at the beautiful woman from head to toe.
“You seem familiar.”
“That’s all I need,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m Mel, Mel Medarda, and I’m the headmistress of this school. Now, do you know why you’re here?” Caitlyn shook her head slightly.
“That’s okay, dear,” she said, walking away from her desk and coming closer to Caitlyn.
“A long time ago, I founded this institute to receive and educate the most special species on the planet—the mutants.” Something in Caitlyn’s mind stirred, recalling a vague memory of this woman.
“Here, they have the chance to learn how to use their abilities, and more importantly, they have guaranteed safety and protection—something that is very hard to find for our kind elsewhere.”
Caitlyn tried to remember all the times her mother made her watch the destruction caused by mutants, telling her that only “animals without ancestry or humanity” behaved and lived that way. A few years ago, a cousin of Caitlyn’s discovered he was a mutant after reaching puberty, and Caitlyn’s mother never spoke to him or his parents again. According to her, he was a disgrace to the human race.
“So now you know what this place is. I need you to tell me why you’re here.” Caitlyn looked at the woman, her big, innocent eyes wide open.
“Well, dear, I saw your history before requesting you be sent here; born in France, 15 years old, you were never a badly behaved girl. Your parents were very political, yes, but aside from that, very calm, at least socially. My point is, what happened that day? It’s hard for me to believe you just killed your father for no reason.”
As soon as Mel finished speaking, Caitlyn’s mind was flooded with memories of that day.
“I didn’t kill him. I loved him, I told everyone already,” she had explained to the enforcers, but she had the gun, and her father had the bullet in his head. “I aimed at the can. I did it, he was behind me.”
Mel stared at her for a moment, as if examining a laboratory rat.
“And no, if you let me stay in this place, I’ll never touch a weapon again.” Mel looked at the girl with clear confusion. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Now, how do you know what I was thinking, Caitlyn?”
“Since that day, my voice isn’t alone in my head anymore. It’s joined by many others,” Caitlyn tried to explain what was happening to her as best as she could. “They aren’t talking to me; they’re just thinking to themselves. If I concentrate hard enough, I can hear one person in particular.”
The woman stared at her, and for a moment, Caitlyn thought that by telling her that, she had earned herself a one-way ticket back to the detention center.
“I’m familiar with that kind of mutation. There are few, but there are some like you at the school. Nothing we haven’t seen before or can’t handle,” Mel extended an attractive smile before walking back to her desk.
“Elora will show you your room. Your roommate will be in charge of showing you around the school and more or less explaining how everything works here,” Mel sat in the elegant chair behind her desk. “Welcome to your new home, Caitlyn.”
The mansion didn’t seem like a bad place to live. It was beautiful and spacious, with three floors, a pool, a maze, stables, a basketball court, garages, and a lake.
A little while ago, she had arrived at her room, which was on the second floor. Elora, the woman who had welcomed her, had given her clothes, toiletries, shoes, bathroom and school supplies (such as notebooks and pencil cases), and more.
She had spent some time organizing her few belongings when she heard the door open. A girl about her age with violet hair, an angry face, and more muscular than most her age came out.
The girl stared at her for a while, then closed the door behind her.
“You’re the French girl, right? They told me someone was coming,” her voice was raspy. The girl walked over to Caitlyn’s side of the room and dropped a few things onto her desk. “So, what are you doing here?”
“Pardon?” Caitlyn looked at her confused.
The girl sighed.
“What did you do to end up here? What’s your... you know, your thing?” she asked, already somewhat irritated.
“Kinetic energy manipulation, I think. Ms. Medarda isn’t sure yet.”
The girl examined her for a moment, looking her up and down before letting out a smile.
“This school will eat you alive if you don’t handle yourself well.” And just like that, she threw herself onto the bed and turned off her lamp, leaving Caitlyn with the faint light coming from her nightstand.
It was too late to go back to the detention center, and her chance to return to her mother had long passed. There was no turning back. But that was okay. She was going to be fine. She was safe. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.
Yeah, she was going to be fine.