Chapter 3

Clara was in a sorry state when I first met her. The doctor went through her list of injuries and it was quite obvious that she was lucky to be alive. Her face was completely untouched but both arms and legs had various fractures and the most serious injuries were to her ribs because they pierced her left lung. If they had brought her to me when she was first injured I think she would have died. Nothing that I can do is that quick.

Bones are not the easiest for me to treat either. I knew what the bones should look like and the difference between male and female versions, but everyone is different so I couldn't use a generic size. However, I had been treating for almost three years by that point, so between my explanation of what I needed and previous experience when she arrived, she also had everything I needed to treat her properly. She had already been in hospital for a while. Her various issues were stable and they hadn't put her through surgery and pinned everything in place. She had been through various scans and they had reconstructed bone models for me to use, from those scans. I would also have to work on her lung and all the soft tissue that had been damaged by the rib's entry. Scans later, after my treatment, usually showed complete normality, with no evidence of any previous injury after my usual four weeks.

With most patients, what was wrong with them was the most that I found out about them. It wasn't that they couldn't talk to me, but they were given rules about what they could include in any conversation with immediate removal if they violated those rules. This meant it was unusual to hear even a thank you. I was monitored all the time so it was a real threat. No one had actually been removed for this reason, but a few had been given warnings.

Clara didn't really care what happened to her. When I first met her she was fatalistic, and, although she appreciated my help, would rather have just died. The threat of not being treated had no effect so she was happy to properly engage me in conversation.

Her injuries were the result of her abusive husband. I have a feeling she was sexually abused at the same time but didn't want to ask her. He took a baseball bat to her when she missed a phone call and he accused her of cheating. If she had gone to a normal hospital it may have been six months to a year before she was mostly recovered. Instead, with my help, it would be a full recovery in just six weeks from the incident. The first two weeks were all about survival and stabilising her condition in hospital. None of it was reported to the police, of course. Her husband was the son of a mafia crime boss.

Her room did have a TV which had to be switched off when I visited. Because of her various fractures, she was pretty much immobilised and I don't think the TV entertained her that much, so she asked me to visit frequently and it helped with my boredom as well. I was allowed to talk about myself so I answered her questions quite happily. She learned what I could do and how I did it. I think she recognised that I was lonely and did her best to fill that gap. She could tell me about herself but had to be careful not to include any details that might bring about censure.

When she left I was upset and sad for days. It was about three weeks later when all hell broke loose. There was a raid by the FBI. It was the first time it had happened, but my guards were prepared and shoved me into a hidden panic room behind the wardrobe. I spent an uncomfortable 24 hours in there on my own, using cat litter to relieve my bladder and drinking some bottled water that was available.

I came out hungry and depressed thinking that I would never escape. However, to my surprise, the Feds were waiting for my door to open and I was immediately hustled out of the building, into a windowless van and driven off. I was taken to a warehouse where I had to strip off all my clothes and they ran an electrical device over me.

The bastards had implanted a chip behind my left knee. There was a makeshift operating table there, so I guessed they had suspected something. I was given a local anaesthetic and it was removed. Then I was given new clothes. I was then led to a safe house where two men questioned me. I told them everything I could, but I don't think they really believed me. Still, they didn't accuse me of lying and eventually, I was released to explore the rest of the house. I was given strict instructions to not even attempt to leave. For my own safety, of course.

They gave me colour pencils and paper. I think they didn't believe me when I told them my birthday. My height gave the impression of being much younger. I did my best to remember the different people I had been asked to alter their facial features. I drew them as best as I could, as well as their new features. I didn't really trust the new men that I met. It wasn't that they were untrustworthy, it was more that I had learnt to be suspicious of everybody. If your own father can sell you for money and your mother can go along with it, you don't end up with a lot of trust in people.

When I wasn't drawing I watched TV. I hadn't watched any for three years, and I enjoyed my reintroduction, especially when I was introduced to Netflix and I could choose to watch what I liked. I asked for a piano keyboard and a set of headphones so that I wouldn't disturb anybody. I had been practising every day for at least two hours, so not having it available was like an itch I couldn't scratch. They told me they would see what they could do, but I got the impression that they said that to just stop me pestering them.

I asked them what was going to happen to me, but none of the available men, of which there were four, were decision-makers and I very much got the impression that they were waiting for something. They were also treating me like I was five. I decided to start working on a different look for myself. I used a mirror in the bathroom and started changing the colour of my eyes to a hazel colour and separating them. I pushed my jaw to a more manly square type in the hope that it would make me look older. My nose I made smaller but wider. None of the changes would be immediate but rather than my usual technique of picturing the whole face, by working on all the elements individually, I could stop as soon as I was happy with everything, so it would be done in less than four weeks.

The food was mostly take-outs, cereal and toast. The complete opposite of my diet before my liberation. Since I hadn't been able to leave the apartment and now couldn't leave the safe house I resorted to practising my yoga. I had been doing yoga almost since the beginning. They wanted me to be healthy for a long time so I got very carefully tailored healthy meals and was encouraged to exercise. One of my carers did yoga with me every morning and I had to use either a treadmill or a stationary bike every other day. I did cheat a bit as I imagined my different muscles stretching themselves to make yoga easier and concentrated on controlling my heartbeat and breathing. It helped me appear calm when I was nervous. I believed that I had to appear strong in front of my guards and not let them see my fear.

After three days of this, I was taken to another safe house. The car was driven into a garage and we waited for the garage to close before I was allowed to get out. This was a suburban house in a very ordinary street. That was about as much as I could say since I was not informed about pretty much anything.

I was guided up to the kitchen and to my surprise and joy, there was Clara, cooking a meal. As soon as she saw me, she cracked open a wide grin and opened her arms for a hug. One hand holding a spatula and the other a knife, she could only really hug me with her forearms, but it was the best hug I could remember.

Chapter 4

Clara had made a deal with the Feds. She would raid her husband's safe and gather as much evidence as she could if they rescued me. It wasn't as selfless as it might seem. The family used her love for her sister and parents as leverage to keep her in line. She realised that it wouldn't be long before she was killed if she did nothing and knowing what I could do gave her an opportunity to get out.

If and only if I was available to change her family and herself, of course, into new identities that could be supplied by the FBI, then they could all move on with their lives. Provided that no one was stupid and contacted someone they shouldn't, they should be safe. I would be staying with her and her family for four weeks working on their faces and voices. Voice recognition was possible, so I would need to correct that as well. It wouldn't be the first time and she had already guessed what I would need.

She had come prepared. There was a clean computer that was not able to connect to the internet loaded with the programs I needed to come up with new facial features. It also had a very effective cleaning program so that when we had finished the computer could be scrubbed. The ideal way of altering peoples voices was to use a camera to view the voice box and concentrate on the changes you wanted, however, that was impractical. Instead, I would work on either tightening or loosening it until they were happy with the result. Because it would happen so gradually, I would record their initial voices and then make new recordings to compare until they were happy with the change.

Wigs were useful for changing hair colour, as it made visualising it easier. Original hair would usually fall out and new hair sprout quickly. This can be distressing and wigs can make you feel better about it. She had also brought various different bras so that the women could choose their cup size and shape. I could also do minor changes in height quite easily, I just needed to know what they wanted.

Height was an important subject for me and with my increased knowledge of anatomy I had worked out ways to make small changes without having to worry about skeletal changes. Changes to the height of intervertebral discs and soft tissue structures like cartilage and meniscus tissues can increase or decrease your height up to a couple of inches. More than that probably wouldn't be wise. I was already working on increasing my height.

Obviously, any distinguishing features needed to be removed and it was sometimes a good idea to add new ones in different places. I don't think the Feds really believed what I could do, but for Clara's testimony and evidence were willing to go along with her wishes.

Every week we would move to a new safe house, but the team looking after us didn't change. By the second week when all the hair had come out and all their voices were clearly different, as well as the beginning of the facial changes, the Feds started to take me more seriously. I was interviewed again. This time Clara refused for me to go through it without her present. I had to go through how I did what I do and what results I had achieved. I showed them the pictures that I had drawn of the different clients that I had altered and they took them away to look into them.

I didn't really trust the FBI. Initially, all their focus was on Clara and now it was shifting towards me, but not in a good way. Clara had offered to become my foster mother, which I had accepted and even started altering my face to suggest a family relationship with Clara's chosen new face. Both myself and Clara thought that was a done deal, but suddenly, when they knew how useful I could be, stumbling blocks appeared. Apparently, It would be too dangerous for me to go with Clara. Clara had already given her evidence to the FBI and so had very little to bargain with and we both worried that I had replaced one prison for another.

I wasn't against helping people and realised that I could do a lot of good if I worked for the Feds, but...

I wanted my freedom. Once I had grown up and was in a better position I figured I could offer my services but before that, I didn't want to have all my choices taken away from me. I deliberately left the laptop computer that I was using for the facial imagery recording sound in the room where the guy in charge, Jack, usually moved to when he wanted a private conversation.

By the end of the 3rd week, my suspicions were confirmed and I knew I needed to escape my new prison. I confided in Clara, showing her my evidence and we started planning my escape. She was worried about me. The FBI would be creating her new ID so I wouldn't be able to go with her. We worked out a plan for me to escape but I would then be on my own. A twelve-year-old boy with no identity. Organised crime had a lot of resources but the federal government had even more. I would have to go the extra mile to stay out of their clutches.

A few days later everyone was essentially complete. Now the presence of the guards was more likely to highlight our presence that their absence so we moved again and lost all the guards apart from Jack who would become my legal guardian. We were now waiting for our legal paperwork and readying ourselves for our new life. Well, everyone except me. We were now staying in a motel on the first floor in different rooms and Clara went out on her own to buy a car, clothes and other odds and ends.

She had a wad of cash that she had liberated from her husband and she didn't want any further help from the Feds as she felt it could be traced. She was quite happy finding her own job and starting fresh. Her husband's territory and my original location turned out to be New York, so she was moving to California.

In order for me to be free, we had decided that I needed to escape and get four weeks of isolation for me to change my identity. She didn't want to know what my new one was going to be, but she suggested that I go as radically different as possible. Jack was keeping a very close eye on me, but now it was just him, I felt confident that I could escape.

Clara who was now called Sarah, said her goodbyes, got in her car and seemed to drive off. She had made sure that she wasn't traceable. She said she would buy a mobile phone when she got to California and the car itself was an older model with no GPS. Once she established herself it would be easy for the Feds to find her since they gave her the ID she was now using. Her journey, however, should be difficult to trace.

I was sleeping in the same room as Jack. I had made a point of waking up the past few nights and going to the toilet and taking my time, so Jack, even if he woke up, shouldn't be concerned. This time, however, I went straight to the small window that was above the toilet. I climbed onto the toilet and as quietly as I could climb out. I was still one story up, but, as planned, I found a ladder waiting for me. I hurried down and quickly put on the clothes that were in a plastic bag at the bottom. I walked down the street until a car pulled up beside me. Sarah let me in and we sped off.