Two guns rested in my intruders’ grasps, lightly brushing their purple coats as they strode toward me.

"We're from PowerGen," said the man. "And we need to speak to you."

"Who are you?" I shouted. 

PowerGen? What was that? What was all of this?

The guy just went on. "You haven't heard of it — well, you shouldn't have heard of it — but we need to escort you to their headquarters in Hendrix City. They take in superhumans like you."

They… took in… superhumans?

Oh hell no. I knew what this was. I knew exactly what this was and I did not want it to happen.

"You weren't informed, I know, so this is a shock," the lady cut in, dark eyes stone cold. "If you were, you could have had time to escape, and that’s why we said nothing. You can't do much when you’re in a situation that happens abruptly."

I grit my teeth.  So this was why the government was quiet all this time. They wanted to ambush me. They wanted to ambush all of us.

Goddamnit. How was I going to get out of this mess? I should have run away the second I had the idea to. Why did I even think about waiting at all?

"Twenty minutes," the woman continued. "You have twenty minutes to pack your things, and then you must come with us. After time is up, there will be a bag check, and if everything runs smoothly, you'll be taken to the building."

"Twenty minutes?" I cried. "What — I don't even know what's going on! That's not enough time —"

"It is. You don't need much. You may not bring any electronic devices, such as phones, tablets, laptops, or anything that will help you communicate."

My jaw went slack. 

They weren't serious. They absolutely could not be serious. 

"While government-issued clothes will be supplied for you, there is currently a shortage, and therefore, bringing your own is recommended until we gain more. Food, you may not bring, since we already serve them there. Hygiene products are allowed," the man added on.

"What is this for?" I blurted out, scrambling away from the two. "What is this about? What is PowerGen?"

The woman sighed. "It's an organization in Hendrix City that simply... relocates superhumans. That's all you need to know. With that being said, your twenty minutes starts now. We'll be here to watch every move you make, and nobody else is allowed to intervene — no, not even other students from the dorms or security guards — so don't think about being sly or calling for help. It simply won't work."

I stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. But then the snap of the lady's fingers made me spring into action.

As painful and scary as it was… I complied. 

Like an utter, goddamn idiot.

But what else was I supposed to do? Should I have fought back, I'd only have water to splash in their faces. I didn't know how to bend liquid into ice or gas like Hazel was suggesting; I never had the time or space to practice that in the Margaret family household, and definitely not in the confines of my dorm. But these people? These "PowerGen escorts?" They had guns. I didn't need a bullet through my head, even if that would end this entire situation.

There was no running, there was no fighting back. I was stuck as a succumbing coward.

With quivering limbs, I exited my room, making my way into the kitchen — a small area with blue walls, a tiny stove, fridge, and a table in the middle. 

Thump thump thump.

I looked over my shoulder — the workers from this 'PowerGen' place had followed me into my own kitchen, standing still like lifeless mannequins.

Yeah, that wasn't creepy and pressuring at all. A perfectly fucking acceptable thing to do.

"C-Can you not…?"

"No," the man replied. "We must monitor you. Those are the rules. Now hurry. One minute has already passed."

Sweating, I ran through the list of things I needed in my head. My essentials just included clothes and a few hygiene necessities, right? It wasn't like I could take much else. I probably didn’t have time to find my suitcase either — who knew where I left that old thing? — so, no matter what I wanted to take, it had to be small.

Snatching a large grocery bag, darting back to my room, and ignoring the footsteps following behind me, I flung open the closet next to my bed and piled a bunch of clothes into the bag. Then for a split second, my gaze trailed over to my phone, sitting on the glass table in the main room outside. 

Could I at least send a quick message to Mom and Hazel before I left? 

Perhaps it was worth a shot. 

Avoiding eye contact with the people from PowerGen, I took the bag in my hands and rushed over to my phone. "I'm just going to send a message to my family, but I won't actually take it with m—"

"Stop!"

The man had his gun to my temple in a matter of seconds. 

My heart almost burst out of my chest as I dropped my phone.

"We'll inform them, the same way we’ve informed your university and your job about this,” he snapped, dark eyes piercing into mine. "So, put the phone down and only grab what you need."

“Well I need my phone, don't I?”

That’s what I would have said if I wasn’t so terrified.

Instead, my throat was too dry to even form words. With a hammering chest and sweaty palms, I nodded once and walked away towards the bathroom connected to my room. The man and woman waited near the door, so I was at least somewhat alone. No creepy mannequins to watch me this time. 

I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste from the pearly white sink on my left and gathered up any menstrual hygiene products in a ZipLoc bag, finally stuffing it all into the larger tote next to me. There was no telling how long this would last, but PowerGen would have to provide more, right? 

How long was I even going to stay there? I had a feeling I knew the answer to that: forever. Or for at least months. Or years.

Tears stung and pricked my eyes. I wished this was a dream. I wished this horrible nightmare could be over.

I wished it never happened in the first place.

But then again, whose fault was that? The finger could point back at me — back at what I did during that shooting.

"Ten more minutes," said the woman from outside.

Stepping out the bathroom, my lip quivered as I desperately fought back tears. I couldn't believe it. I had to just let these people come and take me? I'd never found myself this trapped and helpless before. How'd I even get out of here? If I ran or fought, I'd die. If I just followed along, then I'd be dragged to who knew where?

There wasn't a way out, was there?

"Are you ready?" the woman asked.

"N-No," I forced out. "Not yet."

I scrambled over to the drawer in the corner next to my bed, my body obscuring the escorts' view — or, at least, I hoped it did. 

Sitting in the first drawer were three sketchpads — all of them mine, only one of them half-filled — and I dumped them into the bag along with my art supply case. It seemed so pointless, but maybe I could use this one way or another: either to keep the boredom or fear at bay or write messages since texting them wasn't allowed. 

After that, it was a matter of emptying the drawer of whatever comic books sat inside, before plucking out a pencil and ripping out a page from my sketchpad to scribble a note: 

It looked pathetic all written out, but it wasn't like I had much time to think about this. I placed the note in the drawer and prayed that Melissa would come back from the hospital and find it.

She was my only hope at this point. 

"Are you ready yet? There's not much time left on the clock," the woman piped up.

Without responding, I slammed the drawer shut and hopped to my trembling feet, placing the sketchpad and pencil back inside. Those two escorts were standing at the door, the man motioning for me to follow his lead.

"You seem ready enough. Come with us."