The Prisoner

I remember this. A clean white room, not one speck of dirt inside of it, the lights indistinguishable from the walls. A needle is inserted into my neck. I feel a sudden rush of power, of strength so much I can barely contain it, and it all comes out. I feel wings sprouting from my shoulder blades, ripping the fabric of my dress. They are clear, yet all the colors in the world are shining within them. I see my wrists being wrapped in metal. The metal itself has a gold lining and a tiny slot for something, a distinct silver sheen and gold sparkle. I feel power, the power to destroy the world. But it all ends, and I am left with a torn dress and a slight headache. I see my vision blurry as I black out.