Try

One

I woke up to the drab, grey walls of the cell, with the only thing disrupting the consistent plain concrete being a poster of a fox cub and its mother. I stared at the poster, just as I had done yesterday and almost every day before that. I shouldn't be here, I knew that, They didn't. All They ever tell me is "You can't go out there! You're a freak, a danger to society!"

They don't know the half of it. They don't know that I could take down these walls with a click of my fingers. I could do anything with the flick of my wrist, well, almost anything. They don't know what's stopping me. They don't know what's keeping me going. They know nothing.

All They ever do is think. They're always watching me, trying to figure out what's so special about me. They look and they look until they can see even less than they saw before. Their thinking is useless, their watching is useless, I could wipe so much out of their brain that they'd have to be taught how to count to 3 again, but I haven't gone that far, their memory is so useful to me. I need to know more before I leave, all I know is that I'm not the only one. There are 4 others, and they're not allowed to see each other.
I've been told that the others aren't as special as me, as if I'm special at all, whatever that means.

I don't know why they even told me anything, probably to torture me. There was nothing more I could do with that information. I need to know more. This isn't enough.
The music is on. The same song every day. Every fucking day. It starts off sounding like a mariachi band, talking about love burning a ring of fire or something. I try not to listen, though it never works. They do it to mock me I guess. Try to get a reaction. They want to wait until I snap, until I give them something to observe, study, they can't learn anything from a sad looking girl staring at walls all day.
They took me when I was 11, I don't know how long I've been here, the day's blend and bleed together like paint on paper.
Yesterday I told myself I'd get out today, but I told myself that every day since I got here, I've never liked lying but things change over time. Nevertheless, today is the day, not like yesterday or the day before was, today is the day.
With a sigh I get up and look over at the plastic tray that they must've slid under the door earlier that morning. All that sits on it is a small polystyrene cup with water in it, a piece of stale bread and a slice of suspicious looking dry meat. Nothing I can do with any of it, not without putting on too much of a show anyway.

I think back to the day I was taken, they told me that having a child go missing isn't as bad for the parents as having a child die, but I wasn't sure that as true, after all, having a dead child would at least mean the parents had some kind of closure, eventually they would accept that their child is gone and isn't coming back, but if your child went missing surely you would never be able to let go of the hope that they would someday return, and every morning they woke up with their child still gone would feel like a stab to the heart.

The music cuts off and I await the usual message, I count down 4 seconds and as soon as I say zero the voice cuts through the air, I entertain myself by mouthing along.
"All Patients must now leave their beds and collect their daily rations. Failure to follow these instructions will result in beatings. Failure to follow the basic rules will result in beatings. The Rules must be followed for your safety and that of others around you. You are here because you are a danger to society. You are here for your own good and that of those around you."
I almost laugh at how harsh they are, I've dealt with their beatings before and I'll do it again. I remember what I told myself and whisper "Today is the day" slowly I sit up. The best chance I'm ever going to have is when the guards come, they won't be able to get near me if I can remember how too do it, which is well worth the risk, the beatings don't hurt, they'd hurt a normal person, certainly, but no, not whatever I am, I think it's just common sense to pretend they hurt or they'll probably cut you up right there.
"Subject 1! Failure to follow the instructions will result in beatings! Final warning,"
I don't let it show that the fact nobody seems to know that I had a name before this whole thing happened bothers me. Slowly I lay back down and close my eyes, grinning, awaiting the guards, I'll make my own name, they'll see.
"It's cute how you think that you'll be more powerful than me," I drawl "I could almost pity you, go easy on you," I can hear them now, soon they'll be at my door. I stand up, ready to put up a fight. I slowly crack my knuckles.
"This should be fun,"

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Slowly but surely I am consumed by rage, filling up my insides and making my head spin. I think of the family they took me away from, the family I've begun to forget, I think of the time I spent in this cell, and I burn with hatred. I think of how they've treated me like an animal and how I'm not the only one. I think and I think and I know. I'm ready to leave, and I won't be alone.