Innocence, in a sense, is gone.

I’ve come to realize there was something I have to get off my chest. I’m going to think of this as a kind of therapy. So to start I’ll say I believe all my problems in life started before I was even born.

My mom was 20 when she had me, she already had another child, my sister Kiva, but she wanted another kid.  So she tried and tried, but just couldn’t get pregnant. She finally went to a fertility doctor. He was doing research on helping make sure that later in their lives that babies he helped the women have where healthier and stronger.  What he didn’t tell anyone was that he was also testing to see what happened if he mixed different kinds of DNA together.  He helped my mother get pregnant with me, but instead of prenatal vitamins she was given a mixture of pills that would later in life prove to have given me more “talents” then just being really healthy.

The problems started even before I was born.  While my mother was 6 months pregnant with me when ever she stood up she would go into labor, anytime she was in water, swimming or even bathing she went into labor.  I was a month late and when she finally gave birth to me I nearly killed her. Not really an auspicious start to life, and it kinda went down hill from there. 

I was born in the fall of 1983, and was raised by a loving, but dysfunctionaly matriarchal family. My father stuck it out with my mom for a while, but by the time I was 6 he was seeing other people and then split and remarried a woman who could give him the son’s he wanted, he never wanted girls, and said so at any chance he could get.

We moved around from place to place while my sister and I were young, trying to hide what I was, but it never lasted long. When I was younger I had a flare for showing off my “talent“. I’d explain what I mean right now, but I feel its better to hold off for a while, and just let you guess. The one place that stuck out in my so-called “childhood” was just outside Detroit Michigan, it was a summer camp for “Unique” kids. 

As it turned out when I was 8 the government looked into the fertility doctor my mother and countless other desperate women had used, and found out about his less then ethical treatment of us former fetuses.  After a tally of how many women he “helped” with his special drugs, it seems that there were just over 300 of us “extraordinary” children.  So special “summer camps” were set up and it was mandatory that all of us be sent to the one’s nearest where we lived.  All the parents were informed they would be getting us back, the government was not taking us way, they just wanted to evaluate our “Abilities” to see if we might be of some use later in life.

I was 11 when the camps were finally set up properly and they had a way of testing us.  So with a kiss from my mom, grams and sister I was sent packing to  “Shadow lake summer camp“. 

When we arrived we were first separated by sex then age.  We were then taken to get a shot that would induce our powers to work, just incase they hadn’t shown up yet.  We were given some time to mingle. Even as an 11 year old I was antisocial, sitting in a corner by myself, hiding behind the curtain of my long brown hair, growling and hissing at any other girl that tried to come near me. 

We were then  tested one by one. 

When it was my turn I was brought into a room that was painted white and had all sorts of objects laying around, I assumed they went with other talents.  I, on the other hand didn’t need any of that stuff.  I was spoken to by a happy looking young man behind a glass wall that he wanted me to try my best and show him what I could do.  And not to be afraid if I couldn’t do anything, it had turned out that not all the kids had abilities.  I told him not to worry so much about finding a kid with powers, it wasn’t like his bosses were going to yell at him because all he had were “duds” as I rolled a large red ball around the floor with the toe of my shoe.  He sat up straight and looked at me funny, scribbling on a piece of paper. 

He asked me how I knew that he was depressed. I told him that no matter what kind of smile he gave the world I could feel that he was depressed. I could tell when anyone was depressed, or happy, or any number of emotions.

He wrote more, then asked if that was all I could do.  Now here’s one of the MANY stupid things I’ve done.  If I was a smarter girl I would have just said yes. But nooo, I had to “shift” for him.

By this I mean one moment there is a small brown haired girl playing with a ball and the next moment a small black kitten sat in the center of the white room.  And as I shifted back the room was packed with people, poking at me, asking me what other types of animals I could become. I could only become an animal that I’ve seen up close or in pictures, and so far that was cats, dogs and some birds. Could I make myself look like other people?  That was a big no, besides… why would I want to look like anyone else? At the time I didn’t see the point in this. I was then given a special badge to pin to my clothes at all times, telling the staff at the camp what I could do. 

After all the children were placed in their little groups we were set free to roam the grounds for a while.  True to name, they actually did use a real summer camp to test us at. 

My next vivid memory of camp was a few day later and I was walking to the barn to see my then Handler when I walked past two boys maybe 7 and 6 years old, both with brown hair, one darker, one lighter, both wearing badges that labeled them as the “brains“.  I nodded at both when the lighter haired boy’s eyes fluttered shut and he passed out.  Lunging forward I caught the boy before his head could hit the ground. 

Laying the kid down on the ground I looked up at the younger of the two and pointed at the barn that wasn’t to far off, telling him to go find help, he nodded repeatedly and sprinted away.  Tapping the kid lightly on the cheek I tried to wake him when his eyes shot open and his brown eyes met mine.  I found his normal, everyday average brown eyes very weird, I don’t know what I thought was odd at the time, but I just know they freaked me out. 

I asked him if he was alright and he nodded his head slightly. I held up two fingers and he rolled his eyes, but told me the number back. I asked him the date and his name and he answered both.  Yet another weird thing about him… or I guess his name said more about how weird his mom and dad were.  The poor boys name was Angel Wickhame.  How could a parent do that to their child?

I was saved from more awkwardness by my Handler coming to help me.  My Handler scooped up the boy and told me to wait in the barn for him and carried the boy off to the infirmary.  Standing up I brushed a hand down my jeans and sighed.  I was walking away when Angels friend came running up to me, thanking me for helping his friend. I nodded and tried to get away. All this socializing was seriously going to make my heave.  The kid got in my way again and shoved his hand at me in a very adult manner  and told me his name was Byron Hamlin. He was one of the brains, a smart kid, no wonder he took orders well. I sighed and shook his hand telling him my own name.  It’s Aridane Lautner by the way. Ari if you wanna keep breathing.  That’s just about the way I told him my name too.

Camp went on for a total of 2 months. They tested us, helped those of us who weren’t dangerous strengthen our powers.  I’m not sure what they did with the dangerous ones… I’m not sure I even want to know honestly. They tested my IQ and even though I rated 143 I wasn’t in the range of the wonder boys, Byron and Angel, who had two of the highest IQ’s at the camp. 165 and 172 respectively. Or so I was told, not that I cared much.

I was relatively quick when it came to remembering something, but mostly self-defense. They felt that all the girls that had any type of gift should have some way to protect themselves.

It seemed that if I saw a move preformed at least once from every angle I could mimic it perfectly after a try or two.  I’m not bragging, this is just the way it was.

I spent my time with animals mostly, in the barns, or with the animals they brought in.  I found it easier to take the form of an animal I studied up close and in real life, it took less time and didn’t confuse me so much.  I was kept from looking at photos of any animal that could be considered dangerous.  I calmly, or as calmly as any 11 year old girl can be, told them that any animal could be dangerous, and I was pretty sure that later in life they wouldn’t be able to keep me from looking at those pictures.  I got a major time out for that. 

In my spare time I secretly learned to strengthen my other ability, the one I was smart enough not to tell them about.  It seemed that along with taking the full form of an animal, I could also modify my human body with their abilities.  I could sharpen my horrible human sight with that of a birds or a cats. I could smell like the best blood hound, or even shift small parts of my body. I found this out when a girl who thought she was better then me just because she could change the color of her hair and eyes at will made a joke about me when she found out my family was lower class then hers. 

I was pretending to ignore her, but had my hands in fists and I felt a sharp jabbing pain and uncurled my hands to find that my finger nails had sharpened into claws and I’d cut up my palms.  I slowly made my hands normal and went to the infirmary for help, lying easily about tripping and falling down one of the steep hills.

We were finally sent back to our parents, but were each given a new Handler who we were to call and check in with once a month.  I never met mine at the time. I really didn’t want to. 

While I was at “camp” the media had gotten a hold of the story and there was mass panic from the “normal’s” as we kids had begun to call them.  There were special reservations set up for the families to go live on if the people they lived around  got at idea of having a good ol’ fashion lynching.  The only good thing was that the media hadn’t gotten any of the names.  Oh, there was a list the children and families were asked to put their names on, for public knowledge, but it, unlike the camps, was not mandatory. 

My family still moved around a lot, but I learned never to show anyone what I could do, I became a little more antisocial everyday when it didn‘t concern my family, never trying to make friends, verbally scaring away anyone who thought to befriend me.  I didn’t mind the lifestyle, I was a descendant of gypsies after all.  But we were also descendants of the Native Americans as well, which is why my family refused to go live on one of the reservations.

It was early spring and everything was just going fine until I turned 25 and my mom got sick.  We all sat down and had a long talk about what we should do, and where mom could get the best help. We had been all over the states, but finally decided that it would be nice to head home, back to Michigan.  After checking out a few other towns we settled down in a town called Peach, sucky name yes, but it was large, had things to do and was on lake Huron, so I was okay with it.

I should really start my story properly now. This is the place where everything really happened anyway…