The Urge to Reveal

Flashback

"No matter who I tell, it's just to crazy to believe," I told the therapist.
"Calm down," she told me, "tell me what you remember." I was gripping my tall wooden chair so hard I thought the ends of the armrest might snap.
"Mira," she gulped. I could tell she was horrified. "Take a deep breath." I was calming down, I couldn't feel my head throbbing anymore.
"Alright," I told myself, "handle yourself Mira." I took another deep breath. "When I was six," I began, my parents sent me to an asylum, thought I was special, by more than my personality." I continued to tell her my story that, of course, was the one no one believed. I didn't think I was talking but the way the therapist looked at me, evidently I was. I was having a flashback, not one I would prefer to have, but I couldn't push it out of my head.
I was in a white room with white robes on my body. I was alone, besides the torture tools that hung on the wall. To the right of the tools was a door. Still white, but no knob or handle to open it. I had been awake for so long, I decided to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw what seemed like x-ray vision. I could see my bones my hand, the hurtful tools, hut not through the walls. I decided to open my eyes and cover them with my hands. It was dark now, about 100% better than white. Like this, with no vision, I could hear everything. My blood in my body, the sweat running down my forehead, and as I started to focus on something besides me, I heard voices. Speaking a different language. I put my hands out in front of me to see my cage. Without using my "superpowers", I could still hear them. I turned around to the door, to see it opened. A chill went down my spine. I looked up at the therapist one more time. I didn't know what words were coming out of my mouth but she focused on them with deep concentration.
"I'm so sorry about this," the man murmured in amusement. " It was just so tempting."
I took another glance at the wall of "toys". None of them were titanium so they couldn't hurt me, anymore than a razor burn, but nothing was sharp enough for that. Interrupting my thoughts, the man shouted,
"Oh sweetheart, don't worry about those, they wont cut your skin you know, but I have other 'toys' that will."
I closed my eyes to look at him. Under his rotten old coat, he had daggers, knifes, guns and bullets all made of solid titanium. I started to run for the tools because he was a normal human and they would help me defend myself. As soon as I got across the room the wall flipped around, leaving an old rusty kitchen knife hanging from a pin by a leather loop. With no other hope I gripped it in my hand. I turned back around to the man, only to see he was revealing his torturous weapons. His shirt dropped to the ground. His arms were ripped. They looked like they could break my ribs with a soft punch. There was no skin or muscle to see on his chest. It was covered in weapons. He turned to the door again and watched as a titanium bed with titanium cuffs rolled in to the room next to him.
"Really," he said one last time, "i am sorry," then he gave me an evil crooked smile.