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  PROLOGUE  The first time I came to the Beacon Mental Hospital, I had just lost my aunt and uncle. I was about 17-years old at the time. The doctors didn't quite understand why the police brought me there, until they showed the reports of my interrogation. They thought there was something wrong with me, just because I did not cry, when I saw the dead bodies of my aunt, and uncle. They also suspected I was the one who pulled the trigger. In reality my uncle was the one to put the gun on his temple and shot himself, right after beating my aunt to death. I just assisted him a bit. I knew I wasn't really 'normal'. Ever since I was 7-years old I knew how to move objects without touching them, or break windows and other stuff just by looking at them. I could even start a fire if I was able to concentrate enough. I only trained my powers, when others were sleeping, that way no one noticed a thing, or so I thought. My parents died in a car accident when I was little, I ended up at my aunt's house. She was nice to me, and treated me well.. Unfortunately my uncle didn't. He loved to drink, and whenever someone disagreed with him, he'd beat them up. No exceptions. So of course, being a stupid kid I was, I just had to argue with him. He never used his fists to beat me up though, he'd much rather use the belt buckle for that.My aunt tried to help me, only to get beaten up by him. She was scared, I understand that, but she let him beat me up as many times as he wanted. That, I could not forgive. So when he finally snapped one night, and beat my aunt to death, I stood there. I didn't do anything, I just stared at the scene quietly. After he was done, he took out a gun and pointed it at me. I stared at the gun. I wasn't scared, I wasn't even surprised. I actually waited this day to come. I only wished it would have come sooner. So I concentrated. More than ever. I looked at the gun in his hand, I managed to control it. So I moved my hand towards my head, He did the same. I pointed at my fingers at my temple as if I was holding the gun, and he followed. He tried to speak, but he was too horrified and confused of what was happening. So then, I pretended to hold the gun, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud 'bang' sound, and his body fell on the ground. I walked up to my aunt and stared at her for a few minutes before calling an ambulance. I didn't know why I did that, she was clearly dead, I just felt like I should.When the paramedics came in, they saw them laying on the ground, and me, sitting quietly in the corner hugging my knees. I didn't feel sorry. I always hated my uncle, and I despised my aunt, for leaving me with him. She'd either look the other way, or pretend like nothing happened. The paramedics called the police, naturally. They asked me questions and I answered.The next thing I knew was, that I was being taken to a mental hospital. I didn't really care. Anywhere was better, I had no relatives to live with anyway.I was forced to go see this psychiatrist daily. I didn't like him. Always the same questions over and over again: "How do you feel about your aunts death?", "Why would your uncle do something like that?", "Was he always violent?", "Do you think it was because he had a drinking problem?" I never answered to him. I crossed my arms, and sat there, until the time was up. I had to share a room, with another patient called Emily. I never remembered her last name it started with a W.. "Watson? Weston? Washington...? No, no that wasn't it..." We always stayed on our own sides of the room. She was constantly mumbling something, and REALLY paranoid. She always had to wear a straight jacket, otherwise she would've attacked the nurse, who brought our medicine. I didn't trust the nurse either, that was pretty much the only thing me, and Emily seemed to agree on. The nurse didn't like me either, mostly because I never ate the medicine she brought me, I either hid it under my tongue or 'accidentally' flushed it down the toilet. They had to hire a new nurse, every time the former one got tired of me. I didn't mind. At least I got to keep my usual clothes, instead of the ones in the hospital.If they ever tried to force me to wear the hospital's clothes, I usually got pretty aggressive. Once I almost bit someone's ear off. So they decided, it wasn't worth it. What can I say? I just love my own hoodie, and sweat pants.Whenever I wasn't a prisoner in my own room, I'd either draw or practice my skills. I learned how to see few minutes to the future, quick flashes happened in my head. I knew when the nurse would come to take me to see 'Mr.Shrink McCreepy', or when it was time for Emily to 'cool off'. It was useful. It gave me some time to prepare for that.Now I liked Emily, she didn't ask much questions, she stayed on her side and didn't try anything stupid, like attack me at night, or try to take away the necklace, my mother gave me as a birthday present when I was 5-years old. It was a small stone ring, but to me it was a treasure.There was one exception, one person who I could trust.  She was also a nurse hired after the three first ones quit. I thought she'd be like others, forcing me to take the medicine, but surprisingly, she didn't. She actually wanted to hear my story. She came to talk to me, and asked how I got there, so I explained. I asked: "are you afraid of me?" Instead of showing any signs of disgust, she hugged me. I don't know why, but for some reason I started crying, like the day when my parents died. I hadn't cried after that. She told me that "everything would be okay", that I "would sooner or later get out and be able to live a normal life." I don't understand why, but I believed her. Before she came to work at the hospital, none of the workers had ever shown any compassion to me, well not like that at least. Besides I usually knew what they thought anyway. But her thoughts were sincere. She actually said "you matter", unlike the others, who clearly hated me, and I them. But that was okay. If I had one friend, one person on my side, I would be able to go through this hell.