I grip the chain-link fence like it's my lifeline. The metal beneath my fingers is cold and rusted, and stings my scarred skin. A strong wind blows back my longish hair from my face. Above me, the sky is grey and cloudy, as the sun refuses to show itself. Beneath, the ground is concrete, hard and lifeless, like the guards here. Hot tears fall from my hazel eyes and drip down my nose to the floor.
I miss my life in the real world.
I miss the feel of the heat on my face, the gravel beneath my feet, the smell of the earth.
The say this place is a sanctuary.
It's really a prison.
My anger overwhelms me and my hands begin to glow.
Fire.
Maybe I can burn my way through the fence. There's no point trying to dig under, considering the ground is fucking rock.
My hands begin to steam and the metal links start to glow a fierce orange colour.
They refuse to melt.
I curse under my breath and step back, staring at my hands with narrowed eyes. I am a freak, I say in my mind. There's no point lying to myself, not here, not ever. I can never convince myself something that isn't true, Just face facts and truth, no lies.
I sit on the floor, head down, staring at the dust swirling around me.
There is no life here, just grey and death.
I will not escape.
This is 'The Home'.
I am Alex.
I am here.

