The doctors programmed us in a way. They used our love for each other and our anchors to life against us. The dreams which we had held so dear at one time, we now feared, and eventually dreaded. Those children who were left couldn't argue or turn against each other. For doing so could mean bringing on their damnation. They, we, weren't allowed any emotions. No love for any save each other. No pain. No hate. No fear. They left us nothing. Not even our humanity. When we did something wrong, we not only endangered our lives, we endangered the lives of those around us. The doctors could pick off any of the weak to punish the strong, and often did.
Drugs were injected into our bodies. Experimental drugs. Done so that the doctors could determine what, if any, effect they had on us. Some of the drugs caused our bodies to feel like they were burning for days, but we couldn't scream. The doctors pushed us past the point of being able to express ourselves in such a way. Some of the drugs killed many of us. The doctors could have cared less. We were lab rats to them, nothing more. They could always get a few more children to test.
At the end of all of the testing there were four survivors. Three were mutants. One was not. Over forty children had died as the price of one madman's dream.