"The government will present its case first," Judge Esposito says, nodding to the team of attorneys at the other table.

  A thin woman with a severe haircut rises. "Your Honor, Jennifer Ross representing the Department of Justice. The federal government is seeking emergency custody of the minor, Daisy Zhen, on grounds of public safety and flight risk."

  She launches into a detailed account of my crimes - though she calls them "incidents." The Philadelphia courthouse. Seven dead, twenty-two injured.

  "Furthermore," Ross continues, "Daisy Zhen escaped from a secure federal facility less than forty-eight hours ago, during what we now understand was a coordinated attack by unknown parties specifically targeting her for extraction."

  I glance at Patricia, who's taking rapid notes. She doesn't look surprised by any of this.

  "The government believes these parties may make additional attempts to access the minor, putting both her and the public at extreme risk. We are requesting immediate remand to federal custody at a secure facility equipped to handle powered minors."

  Ross sits. Judge Esposito turns to Patricia.

  "Ms. Gilly, your response?"

  Patricia rises smoothly. "Your Honor, the government's position fundamentally mischaracterizes both the facts and the law. Daisy Zhen is a fourteen-year-old American citizen who has been denied due process at every turn. She was detained at Daedalus - an adult supermax facility - without proper judicial review or consideration of juvenile placement alternatives."

  She gestures toward my parents. "Her family has been searching for her for years. They've established a stable home, secured legal representation, and connected with appropriate support systems for powered youth. They are ready and able to provide the care Daisy needs."

  Patricia walks closer to the judge's bench. "Furthermore, if Daisy is indeed at risk from outside parties seeking to exploit her abilities, separating her from the only people who truly care about her welfare hardly seems like protection. It seems like further victimization."

  The man with the braided beard shifts slightly against the wall. I can feel his eyes on me even through the sunglasses. My skin prickles.

  "Ms. Ross," Judge Esposito says, "does the government contest that Daisy was held at Daedalus without proper juvenile proceedings?"

  Ross stands again. "Your Honor, the minor's placement was authorized under national security protocols following the Philadelphia incident."

  "That's not what I asked," Judge Esposito says sharply. "Was there a juvenile hearing? Was a guardian ad litem appointed? Were alternative placements considered?"

  Ross hesitates. "The circumstances were exceptional, Your Honor."

  "I'll take that as a no." Judge Esposito makes a note. "Dr. Michaels, please approach."

  The doctor who examined me at the hospital comes forward, carrying his notes.

  "Doctor, please summarize your findings for the court."

  Dr. Michaels clears his throat. "I conducted a preliminary physical and psychological evaluation approximately ninety minutes ago. Physically, Daisy shows signs of exhaustion, mild dehydration, and slightly elevated temperature. Psychologically, she presents indicators consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder, though a comprehensive diagnosis would require further assessment."

  "In your professional opinion," Judge Esposito asks, "what would best serve Daisy's immediate needs?"

  "She requires rest, nutrition, and psychological support in a stable environment," Dr. Michaels says. "Ideally with minimal additional stress or disruption."

  "Would returning her to Daedalus meet those needs?"

  Dr. Michaels hesitates. "From a medical perspective, no. Adult correctional facilities are not designed to address the developmental or psychological needs of adolescents."

  Judge Esposito nods. "Thank you, Doctor." She turns to me. "Daisy, I'd like to speak with you now. Would you prefer to talk here, or in my chambers?"

  Everyone is looking at me again. Mom squeezes my hand under the table.

  "Here is fine," I say, too tired to move anyway.

  The judge nods. "Very well. I have just a few questions." Her voice softens slightly. "First, do you understand why we're here tonight?"

  "To decide where I go," I say.

  "That's right. And I know you've been through a lot in the past few days. But I need to ask: Did you leave Daedalus willingly, or were you taken?"

  I think about the team in tactical gear. About the rock-melter. About running through the tunnels. About my penguin. This is a trap question. No matter how I answer, I'm either a flight risk or vulnerable to kidnappers.

  "People broke into my cell," I say carefully. "I got away from them. Then I ran. I wanted to go home."

  Judge Esposito nods. "I see. And now that you're here, what do you want to happen next?"

  Another trap. Everything is a trap, always. If I say I want to stay with my parents, I'm ignoring the "danger" I supposedly pose. If I say I should be locked up, I'm admitting guilt.

  "I want to sleep," I say honestly. "I'm really tired."

  Something softens in the judge's expression. For a second, she looks less like a judge and more like a grandmother.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "One last question, Daisy. Do you feel safe right now? Is there anyone in this room you're afraid of?"

  My eyes drift to the man with the braided beard. Something about him feels wrong. Familiar in a way that makes my stomach twist. But I can't place him, and I'm too exhausted to try.

  "No," I lie. "I just want to rest."

  Judge Esposito studies me for a moment longer, then nods. "Thank you, Daisy." She turns to the attorneys. "I've heard enough to make a preliminary determination. This court finds that Daisy Zhen's detention at Daedalus Correctional Facility violated multiple provisions of the Federal Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention Act. The government's request for direct remand to federal custody is denied."

  Relief floods through me. Mom's hand tightens around mine.

  "However," Judge Esposito continues, "given the complex circumstances, including potential security concerns and Daisy's evident need for specialized support, I am ordering temporary placement at the Whitford Institute's juvenile facility in Chicago, pending a full hearing in thirty days."

  The relief evaporates. Mom makes a small, wounded sound.

  "Whitford is a psychiatric facility, not a detention center," Judge Esposito explains, looking directly at my parents. "Daisy will receive appropriate therapeutic care, education, and regular family visitation. This is not a permanent placement, but a stabilization measure while we determine the best long-term arrangement."

  Patricia leans forward. "Your Honor, my clients reside in Albany. Chicago would make regular visitation extremely difficult."

  "I understand, Ms. Gilly," the judge says. "However, Whitford is currently the only facility in the country specifically designed for powered youth requiring this level of care - and level of security. The alternative would be juvenile detention, which I am not willing to consider at this time."

  She looks at my parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Zhen, I recognize this is not the outcome you hoped for. But I assure you, this is a medical placement, not punitive. You will have liberal visitation rights, involvement in treatment planning, and we will revisit this arrangement at the full hearing next month."

  Dad's face is stone. Mom is crying silently beside me.

  "Your Honor," Patricia says, "given Daisy's current state of exhaustion, we request she be allowed to remain in her parents' custody overnight, with monitoring if necessary, and transfer to Whitford in the morning."

  Judge Esposito considers this, then shakes her head. "I appreciate the concern, but given the security considerations, the transfer should proceed tonight. However, I will order that one or both parents be permitted to accompany Daisy during transport."

  She makes a few more notes, then looks up again. "This court will reconvene in thirty days for a comprehensive review. Until then, Daisy is remanded to the Whitford Institute under the following conditions: full parental access and involvement; weekly medical reports to this court; no interrogation regarding the Daedalus incident without counsel present; and appropriate educational services consistent with her age and abilities."

  She bangs her gavel. "We're adjourned."

  The courtroom erupts in hushed conversations. Patricia turns to my parents, speaking rapidly about appeals and preparations for the next hearing. I tune it out, too tired to follow. The man with the braided beard is gone, I notice. Slipped out during the judge's ruling.

  A woman in a dark pantsuit approaches our table. "Mr. and Mrs. Zhen? I'm Dr. Olivia Reed from Whitford Institute. I'll be overseeing Daisy's transfer and initial assessment."

  She looks young for a doctor, maybe early thirties. Her voice is gentle but firm.

  "When do we leave?" Dad asks, his arm protectively around my shoulders.

  "The transport team is ready whenever you are," Dr. Reed says. "We have a medical flight scheduled from Albany International. We should arrive at Whitford before midnight."

  "Both of us can come?" Mom asks, wiping tears.

  Dr. Reed nods. "Of course. Judge Esposito was clear about that. And once Daisy is settled, we'll arrange regular video calls until you can visit in person."

  "We'll visit next week," Dad says firmly. "We're not waiting."

  Dr. Reed doesn't argue. "That's perfectly fine. Our family integration program encourages frequent contact." She looks at me directly. "Daisy, is there anything you need before we go? Anything from your parents' home?"

  I clutch my backpack tighter. "I have everything."

  Mr. Waddles is still inside, along with my few books and the blanket. The only things that are truly mine.

  Patricia finishes gathering her papers and turns to us. "I'll be filing additional motions tomorrow," she tells my parents. "And I'll arrange for local counsel in Chicago to support you during the interim period."

  She kneels in front of me, meeting my eyes. "Daisy, I know this isn't what we hoped for tonight. But this is a much better outcome than Daedalus. Whitford is a treatment facility, not a prison. And this is temporary. We're going to keep fighting."

  I nod, too tired to argue or even care much at this point. I just want to lie down somewhere quiet and dark.

  The next hour passes in another blur of movement. More hallways. Another black SUV. My parents on either side of me, both holding my hands now as if I might disappear between them. Dr. Reed sitting across from us, occasionally making gentle conversation that none of us really engage with.

  The airport is quiet at this hour. We're escorted directly to a small private plane on the tarmac. Inside, it's set up more like an ambulance than a passenger aircraft - a medical transport. There's a bed secured to one wall where I can lie down.

  "It's about a two-hour flight," Dr. Reed explains as we board. "Daisy can rest the entire time."

  Mom helps me get settled on the bed, tucking a blanket around me even though I'm not cold. Dad stows my backpack carefully within my reach.

  "We're right here," Mom says, stroking my hair. "We're not leaving you."

  I believe her, but it doesn't change what's happening. I'm being taken away again - more gently this time, with nicer words and softer hands, but taken nonetheless.

  The engines start. The vibration rumbles through the bed, oddly soothing. My eyelids grow impossibly heavy.

  "Sleep, honey," Dad says, his voice seeming to come from very far away. "We'll be right here when you wake up."

  When I wake, we're descending into Chicago. The city sprawls below us, a glittering grid of lights against the night sky. Mom is asleep in a chair beside me, her hand still resting on mine. Dad is awake, talking quietly with Dr. Reed near the front of the cabin.

  I lie still, watching the city grow larger through the small window. Another place. Another facility. Another beginning that feels like an ending.

  The plane touches down smoothly. As we taxi toward a private hangar, I see a van waiting on the tarmac, its lights gleaming in the darkness. WHITFORD INSTITUTE is printed on its side in simple blue letters.

  Dad notices I'm awake and comes to sit beside me. "Hey," he says softly. "We're here."

  "I see that," I mumble, still groggy.

  "Mom and I have been talking," he says, his voice low. "We're going to find an apartment in Chicago. Both of us can work remotely. We'll be here as much as they let us, for as long as it takes."

  I stare at him. "You'd move? For me?... Again?"

  His eyes shine with tears in the dim light. "Daisy, we spent five years searching for you. We're not about to let a few hundred miles keep us apart now that we've found you."

  Something tight in my chest loosens slightly. They're not giving up. They're following me.

  No one has ever followed me before.

  The plane comes to a stop. Dr. Reed approaches with a gentle smile. "We're here, Daisy. Ready to go inside?"

  I sit up slowly, reaching for my backpack. Mr. Waddles is still there, tucked safely inside. I pull him out and hold him against my chest, not caring how childish it looks.

  Mom wakes, blinking sleepily. When she sees Mr. Waddles, she smiles through fresh tears.

  "Is that your penguin?" she asks. "He's very handsome."

  "His name is Mr. Waddles," I tell her, feeling a little bit like an idiot loser dipshit about it.

  "Well, Mr. Waddles is welcome at Whitford too," Dr. Reed says, opening the plane's door. Cool night air rushes in. "All your personal items stay with you."

  We descend the stairs to the tarmac. The van waits, its side door open. Inside, I can see comfortable seats, not prison restraints. No armed guards, just a driver in a Whitford uniform, with a pistol prominently displayed - and locked - in a civilian grade holster. I assume for our security, not for his.

  "Home sweet home," I mutter to myself as we approach the van.