My name is Alice. Why am I not dead? I should be dead.

It has been five years since it happened. Five years since my powers came to fruition. Dreams turned to dust. Families turned to strangers. Everywhere I looked, only fear and revulsion stared back.

The universe wants to break free, so it manifests chaos. And as soon as that diverged too much from their idea of a perfect world, they locked me in here. Stripped me of everything I had. My clothes, my name, everything.

Once, people gasped when they saw me. The daughter of Esmerelda Bloodstone. The daughter of the woman who saved us all. Who gave up her life to save countless more. Now they scream. Because I'm not supposed to exist.

I stare at the door. It's locked, as always. There's a little slot meant to push food in, and a plate underneath it. It's made of plastic, of course. Then again, there really isn't much point. The drugs disable my power. Destroy my focus.

Had my mother not abandoned me, I would've learned to break through mental blocks like these. I would've known that my powers are greater than anything the world has seen before. I would've known that once I lost control, there was no going back.

But she did it anyway. And she's not coming back.

Reality manipulation, they call it. The ability to bend space and time to every whim and fancy. As far as they know, I'm the first and last of my kind.

But they're wrong.

They're so wrong.

They're so horribly wrong.

They don't know.

And that's the worst part. They don't know what's coming. And I can't tell them. I stare out through the window, the tears beginning to roll down my cheeks. I can see it now. Death. It comes for me.

Comes for us all.

It begins so small. A tiny pinprick of darkness. But it expands. Screams echo through the air. Men pray to gods that fled long ago. Creation and destruction are concepts warped and twisted beyond relief. My flesh twists with it.

My blood turns to ice. My body burns from the inside. And yet, I am not scared.

Maybe I'll see mom again after all.

Maybe...