The year I was locked in a psychiatric hospital, I swore I would never trust anyone again.
I tore down the curtains to make wings, planted bread trees in the corridor, and told the nurses I could see God. I wasn't crazy. I had a secret: I could turn “belief” into reality.
On a rainy night, Wan Su pushed open my door. He was the leader of the Special Anomalies Bureau's First Action Team, known as a “human blast shield.” He had no feelings, and never smiled or cried.
He said he would take me away.
I looked up at him. “Why is your left hand glowing?”
He slipped his hand into his pocket and didn't answer. But I had seen it: among the numbered scars carved into his palm, one bore my name.
Only later did I learn that he hadn't come to take me away.
He was the home I had created for myself with the power of my belief.
