I am escorted back to the night room, where I quickly shed my towel and perch myself on the edge of my bunk.

Between the hours of six and nine is what they call downtime. We're served food around seven, and we're required to use the treadmill to keep up our strength, but after that, the evening is ours.

I spend most nights reading, trying to rid myself of the walls of my night room, if only for a little while. Never stop reading, Muriel would say. It's like dreaming while being awake.

I reach beneath my pillow and pull out my dictionary. Trainer Alison gave it to me a few months ago for my seventeenth birthday. Only books supplied by Marine World are permitted, but I'd grown so bored of my current selection that she'd promised to bring in more if I'd promised not to tell.

It is the book I choose to flick through most nights, forcing myself to memorize the meanings of things I've yet to encounter, pretending for a moment that I could be normal, human, like the people on the other side of the glass. Sometimes, I'll go on the treadmill for longer than forty minutes, desperate to keep up the strength in my legs. But mostly, I spend my nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is it.

I flip to the back, pulling out the old, faded photograph of Teresa. I brush a thumb across her face, and before I know it, my chest is tightening.

It was Teresa who raised me at the facility, who tucked me in at night and kept my nightmares at bay. Then, on the morning of my tenth birthday, I woke up to find she had left Marine World–left me–without so much as a goodbye.

After that, I was moved into the living complex, where a keeper would check on me once or twice to make sure I was okay. At eleven, the experiments started. Weekly, at first, then once I hit fourteen, daily. Tests that improve what they call my abilities, from my hearing and my eyesight to my speed and strength. At sixteen, I was moved into the aquarium, ready to fulfil my purpose; it is what I've been doing ever since.

I run on the treadmill for over an hour. There is something I love about running, about the way I'm forced to rely only on my own strength to keep going. When I run, I don't have to think, and when I don't have to think, I don't have to feel. But it's also a reminder that no matter how long I run for, I am always standing still.

There will come a time when I'll no longer be able to use my legs at all. When I'll have no choice but to wear my tail or be left imprisoned by my own body. The doctors call it a defect–a result of our modified genes. I suppose it is one of the reasons I love running so much; I might not get chance in the future.

Afterward, I shower and perch myself on the edge of my bed, glancing at the bunk above me. All of her things are gone. Her favorite books, her special blanket–just like Muriel, Crystal is never coming back, and as I sit with my legs tucked to my chin, the tears start to fall.

A knock at the door jerks me into action. I tuck my dictionary back under my pillow, and wipe my eyes. When Reece walks in, I pray the bedside lamp doesn't give off enough light to betray me.

"I'm to check on you every evening before bed," he says by way of explanation, and briefly, I nod.

His eyes scan the room, taking in the bunk bed and the books stacked high against it. Curiously, he walks towards it, skimming the worn-out binder of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

"You can read?" he asks.

I find myself nodding. Muriel once said that they taught us to read so that we wouldn't go crazy. We can't physically leave our confines, but our minds can; the people who own Marine World assumed it was enough.

"These are mostly children's books," Reece says, turning a DR. Seuss book over in his hands. "Really old ones, too."

I smile slightly before reaching out. "That one's my favorite." Our fingers brush; we both freeze at the contact before he passes me the book. "It's about a town that becomes empty when somebody cuts down the trees to make money. Have you read it?"

"I'm not much of a reader," Reece says. "I don't think I've seen a paper book in years."

"Why?" I study the front cover as though it's the first time I'm seeing it. I've tried to keep the book in as good of a condition as I can, but the pages have started to curl at the edges, the writing somewhat faded in parts.

"Books are electronic now," he says.

"No." I look up. "I mean, why don't you read?"

"Oh." He looks somewhat surprised by my question. For a second, he stares at his rough, calloused hands with a far-off look. "I was diagnosed with Dyslexia when I was a kid." He looks up again when I don't respond, noticing my puzzled expression. "It means I sometimes have trouble with things like reading and writing. I guess after I finished high school, I stopped trying." There is a brief pause. "Why is it your favorite?"

I look back at the cover, stroking the worn-out drawings. Because it was Muriel's, I want to say. Because I miss her. "I like to imagine I'm there," I say. "Not in the broken town, but in the town it used to be before the Once-ler cut down the trees."

Reece looks up now, his blue eyes sharp. "You think of leaving this place?"

I stiffen at my mistake. "No," I say softly, looking away. "Of course not." Silently, I place the book on top of the pile before taking a seat. When I finally bring myself to look back at Reece, his eyes are already fixed on the wall. "Reece?"

His body tenses as he regards me with caution. "Yeah?"

"I want–I need to know if Crystal's all right," I say, focusing on my clasped hands. "Is she? Have you seen her?" When I look up, Reece is still studying me, his brows furrowed as though trying to figure me out.

"Yeah." His voice is so low it is barely audible. "I've seen her."

I clutch the duvet as I try to steady my heartbeat. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's in confinement," he says. "They've ceased all contact with her."

My heart sinks. Crystal is the most social of us all. I can only imagine what being alone is doing to her. "How long for?"

"Indefinitely, I guess. They have no plans to move her back in or use her in any of the shows."

I shake my head, running a hand through my dark, curly hair. "She hates being alone. She'll be going crazy."

Reece's eyes soften, but not by much. "She killed somebody, Aura. She's not safe to be around the public anymore."

I shake my head again, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "You don't even know her," I say without thinking. "You don't know any of us."

"I know she's dangerous," Reece says, "and if one of you is dangerous, you all are."

I slowly raise my gaze to his, my stomach now swirling with heat. "With all due respect," I say, looking at his belt, "I'm not the one with the gun."

For a moment, he is silent. I think he is about to say something cutting when he gets to his feet, turns on his heel, and closes the door behind him.