After my body slamming experience, I was transported to a hospital. It was obvious that the police officers didn’t notice the bruises and scars on my arms and neck moments after I walked onto the farm due to their reaction when they went to cuff me. They raised my hands to cuff them, my sleeves fell down a bit and the rest was history. Instead of a trip directly to the local jail in a cop car, I got to make a pit-stop at the hospital in an ambulance. The bad part about this was that it gave Frank a seemingly endless supply of ideas about who I could be. And it wasn’t good. During the fifteen minutes that I laid on the ground, cold, and unable to move, Frank spewed words right and left about me. Frank was the type of guy who can turn any little situation into a giant one. But, then again, I did cause him to land in a pile of cow shit, so that would make an encounter ripe for a massive outbreak of curse words.

The trip to the hospital was educational for me. I learned that I had a rebellious streak, or perhaps, a revenge streak. My hair, my brown with a pinkish tint hair was very long. Down to the small of my back. Also, I was angry at the police officers for leaving me lying on the snowy ground, cold, and unable to move for a bit. So, I hit upon a plan. A stupid, idiotic plan but no less a plan. Between the time they got me out of the ambulance and got me into a room, I had pickpocketed a pair of scissors. Apparently, I was a great pickpocket. Too bad I couldn’t remember what I actually pickpocketed before I woke up on that field.

Anyways, because most of my mobility had returned by the time I arrived in the emergency room, I set my plan into motion. When the officer that was next to me turned her back for a brief moment, I took the scissors and cut most of my hair off, leaving it just right at my ears, balling it up, and when the officer turned back, I shoved the hairball in her mouth. Immediately, she spat it out… right into a doctor’s face. It was hilarious, and I immediately burst out laughing. My revenge plan worked. The officer glared daggers at me. Perhaps it worked too well. Instantly, this female officer, who I must say was a lot bigger than me, grabbed the collar of my suit and lifted me up. Yup, it worked way too well.

She grabbed the scissors and yanked it from my hands. She handed them off to the very same doctor she had spat my hairball at. “You little bug.” At least she didn’t say twerp like Frank. “Why would you do that?” Then she lowered her voice, so no one would hear her, “To such pretty hair?” The last part was confusing. I didn’t understand the importance of hair. It was hair. Nothing more, nothing less. Her eyes calmed, and she let go of me. Thank god. But… the doctor was less forgiving. She quickly grabbed my arm and led me into a private room.

“Strip,” she demanded.

Confused, I asked, “Why do I need to strip?”

“Well, one, we need to see the extent of the injuries you have sustained. Then we need to get you into a hospital gown and run some tests, including an MRI, and finally, we need to get you into some dry clothing so you can be taken to the police station.”

Geez, this doctor was severely honest. An MRI? That sounded a bit extreme given that I had no injuries that would warrant an MRI. Something was going on here. So, to delay, I responded with the most reasonable answer I could think of, “No,” and to make my point, I crossed my arms and stuck out my tongue.

“STRIP!” she demanded again, this time with a much more forceful tone. I am pretty sure the doctors can’t force you to do anything; however since it appeared that I had worn out my welcome moments after I arrived here, the doctor wasn’t taking no for an answer. Well, at least I learned yet another thing about myself. I’m terrified of doctors.

So I did as the doctor asked. Once it was all said and done, I got a real look at my body. Besides the lack of defined feminine curves, my body was covered in scars and bruises. I was in some sort of fight before ending up on Frank’s farm. A fight that drew a lot of blood. “What... happened to me?”

“Interesting question,” the doctor stated with a clear lack of sympathy.

“What?” I asked her, clearly confused at her response. I was terrified at this point because of all the injuries on me and no clear reason as to why I would have them. Yet, the doctor seemed completely uninterested.

“Nevermind, let’s just get everything done. I want to be home before the blizzard really gets going.” I have decided that I really don’t like this doctor. Anyways, they got me into a hospital gown and ran every possible test they could think of in twenty-four hours. Hell, they made me do four MRIs, two CAT scans, two physicals, one rape kit and drew more blood that I thought to be in my body. They took countless pictures of the bruises and scarring. And the questions. So many fucking questions. Of course, though, the doctor who replaced the doctor I decided I didn’t like asked every one of those many questions. Understanding that I had a deep dislike for doctors, even if they were trying to help me, I promptly refused to give an answer. Even if I decided to give her answers, what could I tell her? The only thing that I think I knew of myself was that I was agile and I had a revenge streak. That's it. No name, no family, not even a date of birth.

It really is scary though. The thought of knowing that I am someone, but not being able to remember that someone. Knowing that there are parents out there worried to death for their missing daughter, and I, their missing daughter, am prevented by my mind from quelling their fears. I still had enough common knowledge to know this. When someone goes missing and is found dead, yes, it is devastating for the family, but at least they know their loved one’s fate and have the luxury of mourning and putting the dead family member to rest. But when someone goes missing and is never found, the family would spend days, weeks, months, hell, even years, wondering where their little baby went off to. That is the ultimate torture for a family, especially for the parents who are praying every day for answers, but unless I regained my memory, God would never answer.

The doctors were completely oblivious to my emotional state and after twenty-four hours, with another six hours waiting on the roads to be cleared, I was dressed in simple clothing and taken to the police station. I really wanted to sleep, since I was dead beat tired from all the tests and I hadn’t slept for thirty hours. Yet again, I was placed into a room and was asked the 'what was my name' question. Annoyed, upset, afraid, hungry, and tired, I finally decided to give them an answer.

“Bug,” I said, remembering what the officer had called me after the whole hairball incident.

“Bug?”

“Yes, Bug. Try to keep up.”

The officer, not the one from before, but a very tall man smirked, “Alright, Bug. I know that in the past thirty hours, you have refused to answer any of our questions. Now, I understand if you are afraid. But I need you to be honest with me. Why won’t you answer our questions?

“I don’t like doctors and I don’t know why. And back at the farm, that crazy man’s grandson body slammed me into the ground and the police officers left me on the ground for fifteen minutes. Plus, it has been I don’t how many hours since I woke up on that field and you bastards still haven’t given me any food. I am fucking hungry. ”

The officer rolled his eyes, “Thirty hours, and watch your language, young lady, “He pulled out a piece of paper, “So, that crazy man, Frank Travis, is in the main lobby, demanding to press charges against you, plus you already have one or two charges that the police are filing. Trespassing, destruction of private property, assault, assault on a police officer. You’re in some deep trouble. Now, if you tell me who you are, we can sort this out with your parents and the Agency.”

I clenched my fists together and narrowed my eyes. “What you want to know, I can’t tell you, because I don’t know. I can’t remember anything. Not my name, not my age, not my family, hell, not even which of the four seasons it is right now. All I know is that I woke up on that field covered in scars and bruises and no recollection on how I got there.”

“And I am supposed to believe that?” The cop was completely unreal. “You run from Frank, causing him to, in his words, fall face first in cow shit, then oddly, when you wander back to the farm, you run from the police officers there, even when they do nothing to stir you into actually running. Then, when you are taken to the hospital to help find answers, you cut off most of your hair and shove it in my partner’s mouth. Sounds like you’re trying to hide something.”

This guy was impossible, “Hide something? I just told you, I don’t fucking remember anything, so I have nothing to hide. You asked me why I didn’t answer your questions and I told you, but then you turn and say you don’t believe me?”

“Let’s see, your fingerprints have been burned off..” That was surprising, but looking at my hands, there were indeed no fingerprints on the edge of my fingers, “You have traces of Midazolam in your bloodstream, which if you don’t know, is a sedative. The bruises, the scarring. To me, it sounds like you got yourself into a mess, perhaps a mess involving drugs, and are now lying to me to protect your own ass. Does that ring a bell?

“Why the fuck would you assume that? My body’s condition, it’s... look, I told you the truth. I don’t remember a single fucking thing. Why wouldn’t you believe me?” What he said made me more upset. If he continued to question me like this, it wouldn’t be long before tears started rolling. There must be a way to shut this guy up, but what did I need to say. Come on, think.

But the cop just went on rolling, “Well, because, in the past thirty hours, you have failed time and time again to inform the doctors and the police that you have abilities.” I gave him a questioning look. “Geez, basically superpowers.” I gave him yet another questioning look. “Well, at the farm, one of the cops shot you with a taser. Now, 99% of humans, when shot by a taser, especially the police class taser, are paralyzed by the muscles freezing up due to the electrical current and are unable to move. Not only were you not affected by the taser in any way, but you also managed to snap the wires. Given your size, most undoubtedly you would have dropped like a bug, but instead, you resist, snap the wire, and run.”

“Well, you see..” I started to say, but the cop held up a finger.

“Not done, Bug,” he said, “Continuing, what really made the point was that you ran through a door. And not just any door. This door was a solid oak frame, two inches thick. I have seen giants bounce like a ball off doors like that, and here you are, a tiny, hundred-pound, five foot two girl, shattering that door into a million pieces as she ran through it.”

He did have a point, but I was not in the best of moods because of our previous conversation. “I don’t believe you.” Throwing his own words at him like the hairball.

The cop laughed at that, evidently catching on to my little throwback. “Oh, Bug, you are quite amusing. Doesn’t matter what you believe.” The cop, whose name I finally noticed was Ryan, pulled out a little piece of paper and started to read out, “Because of the evidence of superhuman abilities and having no way to learn your true identity, I must inform you that you, Claire Doe, also known as Bug, have had your rights to due process under the law suppressed and your right to a lawyer temporarily revoked...” A lawyer. How could I forget that crucial piece of knowledge? “...as per the Superhuman Act of 1965. You shall be immediately handed over to the Agency for identification and placement.”

Revoke? Suppressed? And the Agency? What the fuck was the Agency? I became deathly afraid, the emotion rising up from deep within my mind. It was just my luck that while my memory got wiped, the emotions and muscle memory did not. And somewhere, somehow, I’d had a run-in with whoever this Agency was, or perhaps, worse, and it didn’t end well. I needed to getaway. I need to get away from this cop, from this town, from where ever on planet Earth I was. I pulled away, but I was stopped dead in my tracks. Looking at what had stopped me from bolting once again, I discovered handcuffs on my right arm connecting me to one of the legs of the table. A pair of handcuffs that weren’t there before. A pair of handcuffs that appeared out of thin air.

“Oh Bug, you’re not the only one with abilities.” Ryan snapped his fingers and another pair of handcuffs formed around my left arm, forcing me to sit back down. “Look, you could have made this easy on yourself if you went along with this and remained calm.”

“You tell me that my rights have been revoked and then say I am being handed over to this Agency, whatever that is, like some criminal sociopath, without any due process. You just said a few words, I said a few words, then you ship me off. Oh, then when I try to get up, which I could have been trying to stretch my legs, you magically chain me to the table.” I lifted my arms to show the chains binding me, “So how did you come to the conclusion that I would remain calm, you fucking bastard?”

“First off, it isn’t magic. Secondary, you are now a ward of the Agency and because of the guidelines set by the Act, you are to be held until a representative can arrive and take you to a proper facility. Also, the Act states that you have no rights until you are processed, so we are allowed to use as much force as necessary to keep you contained until they arrive. This includes chaining you to the table with handcuffs.” There was a knock at the door. “Speaking of which.” The door opened and an old lady with a cane, a big bag, and a limp came strolling through the door.

“Why, hello there, Claire, or do you prefer the nickname Bug? My name Nancy Rodes. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” The sarcasm was practically dripping with every syllable my mouth spat out.

This old woman took a seat, while Ryan left the room, “Well, aren’t you the rude one. Please, do speak with respect when you address adults, young lady.” This old woman spoke in a tone you normally would find an old lady using. A calming, sweet tone. “You don’t need those.” Snapping her fingers, the cuffs disappeared. “Now, on to the business at hand. I want you to tell me everything you know, everything you remember, and even every emotion you feel, past or present.”