Chapter Fifteen: My Worst Sins

“When people will not weed their own minds, they are apt to be overrun by nettles.” ― Horace Walpole “There are no such things as curses; only people and their decisions” ― Yvonne Wood, Dead Beaut

"Don’t worry, Miss. You have nothing to worry about. Everyone here is kind," My caretaker insists. I have only known four people in the first week of my life. None of which have given me their names. One was an older, balding man who I never see without a clipboard. Another, my young doctor who was more interested in the fact that I was alive at all than my health. Finally, my teacher. She was middle aged and jammed everything she could into my skull. It began spilling out my ears and nose and eyes and mouth, so she gave it a rest. Decided that, for now, "It's good enough." The clipboard man says it will never be enough.

My caretaker, however, is optimistic. She's always been spritely, she's only experienced eight years instead of her body's twenty-three. She was the one to get me clothes and talk to me and make sure I was feeling all right. I don't know if her care is genuine. Her face is always soft and always kind and always warm, and I just can't accept that. Something tells me that human nature is not that pure, and I should be more wary of those always happy than those always sad or bitter.

I don't understand humans at all.

"There are four others like you. They've been waiting to finally meet you. Some of them may seem..." She tilts her head to the side, dragging her gaze down. Her smile is still tight like plastic, as always. "Odd..." She moves her head further to the side, her eyes widen. She yanks her head right back up. "But they are all good people."

"When can I meet them?" I ask.

She fiddles with her fingers whenever I ask a touchy question. "Well..." She starts biting her lower lip. "They're not exactly like you."

"Of course not. Everyone is different." I say.

"They are much more mundane than you are. You could hurt them." She says, combining all of her annoying gestures in one. Her head is tilted, her fingers are pouncing on each other and her bottom lip is white underneath her yellowing teeth.

"Explain." I try to ask, and it comes out as a demand.

"You see, they aren't all fire like you are. They're mostly human with some of their element incorporated into their body." She talks down to me. Granted I'm much younger, I'm not a fool. I should talk down to her if anything. I am the superior one. Probably mentally as well as physically. I suspect emotionally also.

"When can I meet them?" I ask again. My tone is dead and flat. I want an honest, sincere answer.

She doesn't answer right away. She pulls her fingers apart and stares at me. I keep my face straight and glare right back. She clears her throat and I hear her heartbeat picking up. "I'll ask the director." She says and hurries out, legs and knees awkwardly close as she runs. Where did she come from and why is she my caretaker?

She returns moments later. She shuffles towards me and looks me up and down. What on earth is she doing now?

"How are the clothes? How do they fit?" She asks, circling around me and inspecting every pore on my body.

"Fine." I tell her. I still haven't adjusted to the feeling of something on my skin, and even though it's as light as they could make it, the tank top and shorts are burning me. I don't quite understand why I need clothes. I don't have the reproductive anatomy of a human female. I don't have the anatomy of a human at all.

"How are your controls?" She asks, jabbing sweat off her forehead with her wrists.

"Restraints. I call them restraints." I correct. Controls make me sound like some robot that can be used with a remote. I don't like the idea of being controlled.

"Yes, yes. How are they?" She asks.

"Okay." I answer. My temperature is still insanely high, and I am barely even solid. However, I want to meet the others. I make it seem like it's going smoother, and that restraining myself does not, in fact, make me feel like I'm trapped.

"Well," She scoots in front of me and puts her wrists on her hips. "I suppose you can see them now."

"Now? I can?" I ask for clarification.

"Yes, you can. Only if you're careful." She warns. I nod vigorously, my mouth hanging slightly open. I want to meet the people the man with the clipboard always talks about. I want to see what they look like and hear their voices. I must be the tallest, strongest and I'm probably the most attractive. I wonder what they'll think of me.

My caretaker leads me outside of the small corridor I've been assigned for my curt upbringing and down a long hall. She pulls out a pair of keys and unlocks the door. Like a simple lock would keep me in. I'm not sure what the reason for that is.

She pushes the door open, and natural light floods my vision. The air is nowhere near as stuffy and heavy. It's fresh and new and cleaner and I eagerly inhale. The space is so much bigger than I imagined. It's open and it looks like it was built for someone with my height and body. There are five floors, and the rooms are built into the side. They left the middle wide open, accessing the upper floors with thin catwalks and glass balconies reaching around the inner perimeter of the building. Scientists in white coats walk around, going from floor to floor with various items. The only thing that really sets them apart is the color of their hair, ranging from gray to white to yellow to red to brown to black. The color white is everywhere. It is the color of the tile on the ground and the walls. On the ground, there's what looks like a socializing area, with plenty of tables and a cubicle in the corner. It too, is painted white. Most of the walls consist of large windows. The panels allow me to see outside. There are green trees and very far in the distance, a blue sky with even more white in the form of clouds. This place is beautiful, and it's freedom.

My eyes are fastened on the ceiling, a glass panel stretching along the inner area of the building at the sun almost at a sixty degree angle to me. I hear the footsteps, giggling and heartbeat of people to my left and pull my head down quickly. I tense and get on the edges of my feet.

Two adolescents approach me, and they're both just as tall as me. No, they're taller. How can that be? I look down at them, and one isn't wearing a shirt. How come he doesn't get to wear clothes? He's the one with n*****s, not me! He's a thin guy, but that's no excuse. He has skin past tan and dark brown hair that curves up in front. His eyes are gray, and he's got the biggest smile I've ever seen. I can almost count his molars. His face is red and the boy behind him, slightly taller and darker in complexion, has the craziest eyes. They're green and blue in each iris with the pupil standing out like a black hole. He has practically black hair trimmed in a beat buzz cut. This one wears a shirt. He covers his mouth with both hands and snickers. The half naked extends his right hand to me and says, "Hey." He can barely finish the sentence without laughing. The boy with the shirt keeps chuckling and has to turn around. The shirtless one elbows him before turning back to me. "I'm Ty." Ty. Seems simple enough. I-- "The Guy who Can Fly." He gets a title? He must be the wind mutant, the third born and youngest male. He's clenching a gray shirt in his left hand, so why is it off? Is he-- "And Doesn't Have to Try." More? There's more to his title? Just how long is it? I don't think, giving him a moment to add more. He doesn't.

"Amber." I tell him, keeping my hands behind my back.

"Amber... What?" He asks

"What do you mean?"

"What's your last name?"

That was his last name? My caretaker was right. "I don't have one."

"Duh. They don't give you one. You pick your own, Blondie."

I shrug. "I don't know what to pick."

"You're supposed to be fast, right? Maybe we could call you Amber Racer, Amber Speeds or Amber Dasher." He adds hand motions to every name, and all of them make me cringe. "I like Amber Blondie. Or maybe Amber Isn't as Cool as Ty. I think that sounds good."

"You're so freaking weird." The dressed boy says, stepping forward. He's much more muscular than Ty. "I'm Andrew Jason. Pick anything you want for your name. It can be literally anything." He shoots Ty a sharp glare and a smirk I absolutely believe is genuine. "Literally. Anything."

"Oh, come on. You thought it was a good idea." Ty says.

What would go well with Amber? There's something about Dasher that appeals to me on a very menial level. Something in it sounds right, and the rest is wrong. Dasher... Jasper... Asher... Ashler. Hey, that doesn't sound too bad. I actually kind of like that one. "Ashler." I announce. "My last name is Ashler."

"Ashler?" Ty asks. "It's not as good as my name."

"You'll regret yours in a month." Andrew tells Ty.

"Yeah, right. I'll love my name until I die." Ty counters.

"You're really sure of that?"

"Yeah, I am. Hell, I'd bet money that I'll always love it."

Gambling? Is he gambling? He's definitely not what I imagined I would meet. I put my hands in my hips, and the action feels right. "I think you'll wish you had a name like mine." I say.

Ty grins. "So you're game?" I nod. "It's on! Ten bucks!" He reaches for my hand to shake it, and he's faster than I thought he'd be. I sharply inhale to warn him, but it's too late. He closes his hand around nine, and I wince. I look at his face, waiting for it to twist in agony. I listen for the sound of sizzling flesh, trying to curl into a small ball while still standing.

It never comes. There are no sounds, he doesn't seem to be in any pain, his heart rate has not changed. Maybe my caretaker overreacted. Ty's not hurt at all. More mundane than me, what a trip! I shake his hand back and loosen up. I lose myself in the sensation of being touched by anything for the first time. It's weird, it's unfamiliar and at first, I want to run away. There's something undeniably comforting in it, though. The pressure of a warm, fleshy meat sack is just so pleasing. I like this. This isn't like the clothes. This isn't an annoying burden. This is a lucky opportunity. He lets go, and I withdraw before he thinks I want to cling to him. I take a deep breath, and the tension in my body drops. I put my hands back on the hips. "You'd better not lie just to win." I say.

"Ashler," He says, and he way he enunciates the word makes it sound like he expects to hate it, and doesn't. "My third last name could be 'And Never Tells a Lie.'"

"Or, 'And Lives a Lie He'll Keep up Until He'll Die.'" I say. Andrew curls his hand into a loose fist and holds it to his mouth. He starts laughing and nudges Ty.

"This girl's got your number." He tells Ty, still chortling about it to himself. He drops his hand and opens it to me. "We'll be friends." There's something so welcoming and warm and friendly about his smile. His eyes squint to match, his entire face lights up. Instead of a plastic grin spray painted onto a plastic, hollow head, his smile is masterfully carved into him from clay. His face was built around his symmetrical grin, he was the pride and joy of an artist. He's certainly attractive. Ty is too, if I'm being honest. That being said, Andrew is one tier above him. His face and voice are just so lovable that I want to hug him. Instead, I start with returning his handshake.

Friendships always start out awkwardly. There are no exceptions.

No one is alone. There are no exceptions.

We all die.

There are no exceptions.

My eyes open. It's all blurry at first, all I can see is an empty wasteland around me. My cheek is pressed into the dirt, I only hear the sound of the wind.

I try to prop myself up on my forearms and shakily get to my feet. Aches and pains and sores remind me that they exist, and getting to my feet is a struggle. I look down at my trembling legs, and I watch them fail. I'm ready to give up. I nearly do when the thoughts hit me.

Ty.

His name escapes my lips, and I hastily stand. I crash to the side in panic, and I spin around. He had to be here somewhere. He can't be gone. He's invisible. He has to be. All around me, there's just a circle of dry, dusty, dirty nothing. There can't just be nothing. There has to be life. Somewhere.

"Ty?" I shout, stumbling backwards. My whole world is spinning around me, and I keep turning to find Ty, and I'm light headed and feignt. I start panting and screaming. "Ty?" My heart is beating faster than I can ever run. "Ty!" He's not dead. He's pranking me, he's trying to get a reaction out of me. He can't be dead. He's not dead. Please, God, please don't let this real. Please don't let it be so that I killed my best friend. God, please, I'm begging you. Please. Please, no. He can't be dead. I didn't want Ty to die. I didn't cause his death. He isn't dead.

"Ty!" I hold out the scream as long as my lungs can bear. The pain in my heart forces me to silence, and my screams turn to gasps for air. My bottom lip won't stop shaking, and I can feel my face morphing and mutating into the grotesque expression of the theater sign for tragedy. I try to say his name and squeaks come out. My arms freeze bent at my sides. Hiccups force their way up and out of my throat, exiting as painful sobs. I drop to the ground, and the world is still spinning.

I let the sobs take over and fall onto my forearms. I bury my face behind my arms and cry into the earth. I weep worse than when the nomads die, and the pain is so much worse. I can't breathe. I can't think I can't feel all I feel is pain and it's killing me. Oh, my gosh. Ty is dead. Ty is dead and it's my fault. I was the one who did it.

Screams and weeps and cries and sobs rack my body, heaving my shoulders, ripping my heart and yanking my diaphragm. I sob everything out, I sob my heart out, and it still hurts. Getting rid of your heart doesn't fix it. You still need a heart. You still need to feel emotions, even when they kill you.

I don't buy that for a second. I don't want to feel this way. I don't care if it shows how much I loved them. I don't care I don't care! All I want is Ty back! I would do anything to get Ty back. I want him back please give him back to me!

I don't care if I'm acting desperate because I am desperate! I'm praying that it gets better, that Ty's not dead, that he's pranking me, that we'll all walk out of this alive and healthy and well. I want Ty to give me a hug and say something, anything.

He doesn't. Because he's gone and I'll never see him again and he's out of my life for the rest of it. Ty is gone, and he's never coming back. Only two people really love me, and one is dead. The other can't possibly love me now that I killed one of his best friends. I've ruined everyone's lives because Ty will no longer be in them. My heart hurts and I wish it would just stop because this isn't living. This is dying. I've lost my best friend, the person I love most in the world, and I've never been this... This beyond sad, this absolutely heartbroken, this absolutely devastated, this absolutely, completely hurt. I don't know how I go on. I don't want to go on. I don't want to face a world Ty isn't in. That's no world of mine.

The crying doesn't stop. It gets stronger and there's no end in sight. I could cry for the rest of my miserable life and still never get over it. We spent all our waking hours together every day of every week. Going the week without him was the longest I've ever gone alone. I don't know how I'm supposed to spend my years like this. Ty and I go together. We shouldn't be separated, he shouldn't be dead. He shouldn't be gone because he isn't gone, and if I say that enough, I'll convince myself and that'll make it true. If I believe in it, he'll come back. That's what the kids movies told me, and it always worked then. I've learned a lesson, he made a noble sacrifice, now for the dramatic reveal that he's not dead. That's the only way my heart will stop hurting. That's the only way I will ever be okay again.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and hope floods into me. I pull my head up and turn around, my sobbing stopping for just a moment. I have so much optimism for that brief moment. My heart fills with excitement for that moment. For that single, little, fragmented moment, I actually smile.

I don't see Ty. No, I see the fully clothed teenager behind him. Andrew has tears in his eyes and doesn't try to act calm or all right. My smile drops. The hope and excitement and optimism and joy and gratitude turns to ash and is blown away. My heart drops, and I’m terrified. I can’t ever forgive myself. How could I ask Andrew of something of that matter? He’ll never forgive me. I can’t hide it. I can’t lie. He’ll hate me more.

"I killed him." I admit through heavy sobs. I pause for a moment to breathe and fail and give up. "I killed him." I break down before I even finish the sentence. I fall back to the ground and forget all about dignity because I don't care at all. I've never sobbed so loudly, and I don't want Andrew to sob with me. I'm not worthy. I killed one of his brothers, I'm not worth love or forgiveness or amnesty. I took the life of someone I love, and I deserve the pain that grows in my soul. I wait for Andrew to run away and leave me.

His arm lifts from my shoulder, and I'm alone again. I’ve lost the three people I love the most in the world within a day. Andrew’s loss will haunt me. Mav’s death will torture me. Ty’s murder will kill me. I wish I was dead.

Until I hear him sit next to me. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for the hug I've always desired from him. He holds my head against his chest and protects me with his big arms. He starts to cry, and both of us share in our agony together.

I want to push him away. I don't want to taint someone so pure and good. I've committed enough sins, damn me if I knowingly sin again.

But I wrap my arms around his back, because I’m selfish, and I don’t want to be haunted. I embrace him, and let him grieve with me. My rests his chin on my bald head, and I'm so small. I bury myself in him, and I try to lose myself. I try not to hear Andrew's sobbing, because I know I caused it. All I do is hurt people, and that's all I'll ever do. Andrew, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I took Ty from you. I'm sorry Ty. I sorry for what I've done and who I've become. I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

My throat hurts, my body aches and the agony in my chest is indescribable. There's no physical sensation that could even hold a candle to this. Maybe if someone were to reach into my chest, break all my ribs, stab all my organs and fill my chest with acid and have an alligator bite into it, I would-- no. Even then, this pain will last much longer. There's no medication to make it go away. I may never stop feeling this way. All I know is that I'm in agony, and I won't be the same person anymore. Life won't be the same. Life won't be what it's supposed to be. It's all over for me.

First my nomads, and now my brother. I don't know how on earth I'm expected to come back from that. I don't think I can't. I'm thought of as invincible and unable to feel pain. I'm meant to be untouchable and impervious to this.

But I'm not. Im not as strong or fast or powerful or smart or useful or brave or good as I'm supposed to be. I'm just a stupid weapon that tried to be something else. A bullet that wanted to heal instead of hurt. It didn't know that it couldn't, and trying would only hurt further.

"It's not your fault." Andrew gasps through sobs. "You need to know that."

I shake my head. "It is my fault. I'm the one who killed him. I'm the one who ended his life. It's because of me that Ty's dead."

"It's because of you that he didn't die for nothing. Because of you, Ty could die a hero." Andrew has to stop every few words or so to sniffle. "He wouldn't blame you. He could never blame you. He loved you."

"I'm not supposed to return the favor by killing him."

"You didn't kill him."

"Yes, I did! I killed my friend! I ended his life! I terminated him! Nothing you say can ever change that!" I am a monster. There's no denying it.

"You didn't do what you did out of hate. You did it because you love Ty, and you love me and you love all the people you saved. You aren't a murderer. Nowhere near it."

My lip quivers. "Andrew, you can't be around me. Everyone I love dies." I warn him. I try to free myself, and he holds tight. I have to get away before he gets stabbed or shot or blown up.

"I don't care. I'd rather die young with you than grow old without you. I know our lives are hard. We're going to be around a lot of death. We need each other in the dark moments more than in the light. You choose your friends, and if they get chosen by God to have a difficult life, you can't just leave them. No matter what, I'm here for you." His words drop into sobbing. "I'll laugh and cry with you. I'll play and mourn with you. I'll win and lose with you. That's what happens when you make friends. That's the 'for better or for worse' end of the deal."

"That's for marriage." I whine through weeps.

"Friendship is just as big of a commitment." He insists. "No matter what, Amber," He pauses to take in a breath and exhales the words: "I love you."

That sentence means everything to me. He knows what he's supposed to say and I know what I'm supposed to say back.

But of course, I'm going to say something else. "I remember why I had a crush on you for three years." I say. I try to lighten the mood, and it doesn't really work. I still don't know what to do or how to move on. I guess I have to figure it out.

Andrew lets go of me and puts both his hands on my shoulders. He looks at me with his unusual eyes, and he tries to comfort me with his smile. Tears stream from his eyes and snot dribbles from his nose, yet he still seems so peaceful. "I'm here. Always."

"I'm holding you to that." I say, holding my arms across my chest. "I need to borrow your shirt."

For a moment, his eyebrows curve inward like he doesn't understand. His eyes flick down for a moment and his cheeks turn red. "Right." He says, his nose clogged with snot. Crying is not poetic like so many novelists and artists and songwriters have made it seem. Crying is ugly. It makes beautiful people disgusting. It twists your face and wrinkles your skin and causes snot to leak from your nose, water from your eyes, and they mix right above your mouth. Your eyes turn red, you can’t breathe, and you’re congested. Crying is awful.

He pulls his shirt off and hands it to me. I shouldn't burn it. Not at rock bottom for power. Andrew's shirt is large enough to function as a dress and cover enough of me for standing to be an option. Andrew stands next to me and keeps his arm around my shoulders.

Kelli and Cody enter my vision. both have cuts and bruises and blood smeared across their wounds. They're still alive, though. They still have each other.

They see Andrew and me and stop. They don't need to ask what's going on. They know. They know, and they respectfully walk over. "I'm sorry for your loss." Cody says, hanging his head down.

Andrew begins to talk to the two, and I zone out. I'm not thinking about what Andrew has to say. Cody's words don't just enter my ears. They stay with me and dig deep into the folds of my mind.

Something inside me, something I didn't know I had snaps. It triggers an animalistic response. "No. I don't want people to be sorry for us. I want them to be sorry for the people who caused this." I blurt out. "I want the group to suffer for what they've done." I grit my teeth, and I feel my saggy skin stretching. Something warm tickles my back.

"How?" Kelli asks, folding her arms across her chest. "The battle's over."

"No." I tell her. "It's not. There's one thing we still need to do." I turn to the direction of Central Valley. Killing is the only thing I can do, and I'm going to avenge Ty. I'm going to make them pay, and they'll regret ever invading the state. Andrew's shirt is much more breezy. "We have to take out their missile launch center in Yosemite Valley."

"Do you have a plan?" Kelli asks. If she could cut the crap and skepticism, maybe we'd have a wider range of ideas.

"Yes. I do." I snap back. "We reach the Valley, and it's plan one."

Cody raises his eyebrows. "That's ambitious. Do we have enough power?"

"We have motivation. We're going to execute plan one in the Valley and end this mission." I command.

"How, pray, do we get there?" Kelli asks.

"However the hell we can. Fly, run, launch, anything." I instruct.

"So you're leaving us to our own devices?" She asks.

"You're independent. You can figure it out." Fire stores in my feet like rockets, and I blast off. I'm going to annihilate anything in my way. I have the energy. I have enough energy to melt the sun.

I think back to my classic rock training songs. The songs blare in my head, and there's no stopping me. I'm going to destroy everything, and no one can hold me back. My memories of Ty hit me and supply me with anger towards the group that made me kill my best friend. It would be one thing to kill him. To make me kill him... They'll burn in hell for that. I'll make them feel the hellfire on earth as a little teaser.

I will be ruthless. I will have no mercy. And I will be exactly what Kayd and Mr. C. Need.

I will be the killer they hoped I would be.

Ty's favorite color was not gray. It was black. Ty's favorite time of day was past noon, because he was just waking up. Everything has some sort of direct connection to Ty, and I take it as the hand of God, leading my way. The sky is black from ash and smog and smoke, it's almost two o'clock. This is Ty's kind of day.

All the times Ty has made me laugh until my stomach hurt sit inside me, now a rock pulling me down. All the pranks we pulled and all the havoc we'd wreck just grapells on my chest and drags it down. I have so many memories of him, I can't imagine making new one without him. He already seems so distant, and the truth in that thought drills through my torso. Ty really is gone.

I clench my teeth and roll my head back, trying to alleviate the discomfort in my head. Ty's not supposed to make me feel unpleasant or unhappy. He never does. He never will. I can't let him become a curse word.

The world moves quickly around me, and it's like I am flying freely for the first time, like when I first embarked on this doomed mission. I don't gain energy from elation. I gain energy from the anger, rage and the blind fury. I will have revenge. I don't care what the cost is. I don't care if I go a layer deeper into hell. The fire all burns the same.

Yosemite Valley is in the center of Yosemite. It contains Half Dome, Yosemite Falls and El Capitan. Basically, everything iconic about an already iconic park is in the Valley. Of course the group is there. Of course I may destroy some of the most beautiful nature around. Frankly, I don't care. I don't care about the nature or the history. I am going to destroy the last of the group. I will not grant amnesty. They will all suffer, and they will be killed hundreds of times over. Twenty life sentences can be issued. Twenty death penalties can be allowed. Like anyone will challenge me.

I pass over cars and trees and buildings and it all blurs. The wind breaks as it hits me, and I hear only wind. Wind. Ty. The air mutant. Who controlled wind. He does not exit my mind. Not for a moment. I don't know how long this will be. I would put money on the rest of my life.

The restraints drop without my intentions, and my speed immediately triples. The drag drops drastically, and I can feel my body morphing to better deal with this pace. I continue to gain speed and rocket forward. I don't care if I'm faster than a jet. It's stupid I ever did.

The Valley nears, and I slow down. I curl into a tight ball and flip forward, tucking in to gain speed and momentum. I set a collision course for the Valley and lock. I spin faster and faster, gaining power by the second. For brief seconds, I see the ground. I'll crash into the middle of the road, and with the force I have, I'll tear much of it apart.

Moments before I hit, I throw my restraints on and brace for impact by tensing all my exposed muscles. My back hits the pavement and it goes flying in all different directions. It caves underneath me or is broken and blows away, creating a long crevice that continues as I slid and roll and crash forward. None of it hurts. I can hardly feel anything. Most of the pavement just melts and softens when it comes close to me. I lost Andrew's shirt long ago, which doesn't mean anything. It would have been ripped on impact.

I start to slow and immediately stand. I drop my restraints and look down at myself. Whatever restraints made me look human are gone. I still have the shape of a human, but no skin or bones or anything like that. I look like a statue of a woman carved from flames. This is my true form. This is where I can be my true self. I don't belong anywhere else, and to think I could was pointless and naive.

I look up. There are tons of cabins and tents and buildings. Yosemite Falls is barely trickling, which I blame on the drought. Half Dome stands ahead and to my right, El Capitan is slightly behind me. Hills surround the Valley and trap the b******s in with me. Plenty of places they could be. However, there are few places they could launch missiles from. I walk forward, and I hear everything. I hear the heartbeat of distanced animals and the crunching of the leaves from yards away. I hear crackling behind and whip my head around. Fire loads in my hands and I spin one hundred eighty degrees. There's nothing there, nothing I can see. It sounded like firecrackers going off. There are no humans around, but I still keep my guard up.

I slowly ease around and a bright light attacks my eyes. From behind a small portion of forest, smoke fumes billow. The ground shakes and there's a loud boom. Strong gusts of wind blow by me, and I remain standing. I start storing energy in my arms and legs. I think I know what's coming.

A  missile appears, blasting up into the air. It rockets high into the air before curving and locking on my direction. I move the energy to my left arm and stare at the missile. I know exactly what to do, and I'm not afraid. I have no fear. I stride forward, no longer a direct target of the missile. Still, nonetheless, in the blast zone. I put my back to where the missile was launched and bend my neck back to watch. Timing is key. This time, I will not get it wrong. Not when timing could have changed something. Who knows? It could have saved Ty's life.

The missile draws near, and I hear it's ferocious parting of wind. It accelerates, and I pull back my left hand. It enters within fifty yards, and I wait. I turn my body sideways, so that my right shoulder faces where the missile will hit. Forty, thirty yards, and I wait. I keep my glare locked and ignore absolutely everything around me.Twenty, and I throw my arm forward like I'm throwing a baseball. I follow through, and a thin line of restrained flames shoot from my hand. They extend, easily doubling my massive height. They latch onto the missile, curling around it and locking tightly. The fire, an extension of myself, tugs tightly on my palms. I straighten my arms and fasten my right hand around my left. I dig my heels into the ground and lean back. I am pulled forward, dragging up the ground and driving me deeper in the pavement.

I don't stop the missile. No, that'd be stupid. It'd be a waste of all that energy and momentum and speed and power and destructive potential. No, I'm going to use their weapon against them. I turn counterclockwise, pulling the missile. It resists and tries to continue on its original path. I told on tightly, the flames are stuck to me like a third arm. The fire around the missile melts the edges and drives deep into it. I'm not giving in. I'm going to succeed. Because Ty always thought I could.

I lean back further, thrusting my head back. I spin, moving the missile. I strain to keep it from yanking my heels out of the ground, trying to make my body weigh as much as lead. I clench my teeth and scrunch up my face, struggling against its force. I pull my hips back and nearly sit down on the ground. The missile curves, and I face the direction it came from. There's a long line of smoke pointing to exactly where it came from. I set the missile on the right trajectory with simple calculations and release.

The flames on my whip drop the restraints and slip through the missile. Without the missile, I fall into my back and slam my head against the ground. I pull the fire back into my hands as the missile collides with something behind the trees. It explodes in a boom that blasts the leaves off the trees and rattles the valley with wind. A cloud rises above the point of impact and the boom thunders and resonates. I hold my forearms over my head to block the leaves and dust and dirt and debris out of my eyes. Not because it'll sting or blind me, because the ashes make me look like a girl who ran crying out of prom.

I start walking towards where the missile was launched, taking my time so they know I'm coming, so they panic and launch everything they have, so they know they're about to die, so their last few moments are in absolute terror. So when I finally do arrive, they're out of weapons and out of options like I was. They'll crouch in the corner and cry, they'll sob and they'll break down like I did. Adrenalin will spin their world like it did mine. And they'll be the most miserable they've ever been like I was. Even then, it won't be enough. None of it could ever be enough.

I hear footsteps behind me and whip around, fireballs in each arms at the ready. Skidding to a stop, Kelli appears first. Her face is red and she's out of breath. Andrew follows and hunches over, sweat dripping off him. Cody is last, and he looks ready to die. He's drenched in sweat. Well, that could be from the ocean. Nonetheless, he pants and heaves and has a face redder than my eyes must be.

"Ashler, you could have given us a better mode of transportation." Kelli snaps.

"I couldn't bring you with me. Not unless you wanted to burn to death." I fire back.

"Guys, not now." Andrew says. There's so much pain in his voice that Kelli and I silence immediately. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Are we still doing plan one?"

"Yes. Let's get into position." I announce. Plan one will break them down mentally. They'll think that they've survived the worse, only to be berated with more. We scramble, Andrew exiting the Valley to climb Half Dome. Cody runs for Yosemite Falls, Kelli makes her way to the top of them. I back up, barely out of the Valley. I give my team a few moments to get into position. Timing, like everything, is crucial. I crouch down so that my knees almost touch the pavement. I put my hands down and begin pushing. I push through the ground, cracking the road and digging deeper. I force my arms forward until I pass the man made materials.

I look at my team. Andrew stands next to the famous Half Dome, looking down at me. Cody and Kelli stand near each other on the Falls, both with fixed glances on me. I nod, and we initiate plan one.

It begins with me. I extend my fingers and tense my muscles. Flames drive through me and shoot into the earth. They go in as straight of a line as I can manage. I easily get through the crust without too much effort. That's not what I'm really going to have to try for. The mantle and outer core are harder. I need to reach earth's core, and believe me when I say it takes forever.

I grit my teeth as I plow the flames through the earth, already meeting resistance and rocks too difficult to melt. I feel the human coat returning as the flames go to reach the core. Now thoroughly naked, it's a good thing there aren't any people. I try to steer around them, meeting with others. I throw any energy I have into bursting through them, letting out a small grunt. Think of Ty, I tell myself. Think about Ty. I heave in and the flames shoot forward, racing to reach the core in time. My part takes the longest, so I start first and finish last.

Cody's part goes second. He holds his hands down to the water then holds them out to the Valley. The water flow changes. Instead of rushing down, it curves. The water bends about four fifths of the way up and now funnels into the Valley. The water doesn't look like much against the rocky background, but when it's pouring into the Valley, it's like a dam has been broken. It curves and travels along its new route for around sixty yards before dropping suddenly. The water plummets to the ground below, hitting and creating a backsplash nearly one tenth of the massive height. The water doesn't cease. It continues to fall, pooling first in the crater formed by the explosion and then the surrounding area. It turns the forested Valley into a pond, and Ty is supposed to go next. He would have electrocuted the water.

He would have. If he hadn't died. If I hadn't killed him. My muscles tighten, I tilt my neck back as the aching kicks in. My heart starts hurting, and I still press on. I give plan one all my effort, I surrender all my heartache to it. Take everything I have from me. All I have is regret and sorrow and fury.

I'm almost halfway through the mantle. I can do this. The mantle is the biggest part, it should take the most energy. Once I'm done, I'm at the outer core. The heat should make the outer core easy to penetrate.

I hear yelling behind me. I whip my head around at several trucks, all circling around me. Enemy soldiers spill out, spitting every obscenity and insult at me. They aim their guns at me and don't resist to fire. They blast bullets into my body, and I drop my restraints-- wait, I can't! My restraints refuse to budge, I'm stuck with my hands in the ground! They pierce my heart, and I shriek in pain.

Okay, I need a plan! I run through the ones our strategists made for us, and none of them work for my state of power. What would a human do in a situation like this?

An idea pops into my mind and I go with it. I slump down on the ground and play dead. I close my eyes and let my body go limp. I keep my hands firmly planted in the pavement. To stop the flames from repairing my injuries, I reroute it to reach the core faster. They'll never know.

I don't know if it works. I try to hold my breath in the three second intervals I can stand, which fails. I try to take the shallowest breaths possible even though my heart rate warrants panting.

The gunfire stops and I hear them walking closer. My stem of fire hits a rough patch, and I divert all nonessential energy into breaking through it. I grit my teeth to stop from curling my toes or clenching my fingers. I press my teeth together, putting more force on them than I should.

I feel one hovering over me. I freeze and don't dare to move. They lean down, and they're going to find out I'm alive and shoot me in the brain. I'll blackout for a second, and it'll be enough. The flames will do what they do naturally: heal me. They will withdraw from the earth and it's all over. My heart beats faster and I get lightheaded from insufficient oxygen.

The ground starts rumbling, and the soldier stands up. They start talking to each other, and one shouts, "Look!" The others gasp and hurriedly try to plan. I crack open an eye as the rumbling increases. The soldiers stand facing Half Dome as it trembles. I can see Andrew, holding his hands out and breaking the dome. A long line splinters across the dome, and it begins to collapse forward into the water-filled Valley. The soldiers aren't used to earthquakes. This is probably terrifying to them. I plan to exploit that.

I pick up my left leg the slightest bit and swing, sweeping a soldier's feet. He goes down, and I crack another one's knee before they even face me. When they do, I attack. I press against my heels and propel into the air, my hands still firm. The flames stop sinking into the earth for a moment. I kick a soldier in the face as I spin, bringing my feet down on two others as I land. My legs smack onto the ground, my stomach exposed. One points a gun at me, and I kick it from below. It goes flying in the air and the soldier is exposed. I snap my leg straight, hitting them right in the gut. A soldier approaches on my left with their legs too far apart. I slam my foot between, and a sharp gasp leaves their mouth. They crumble, and I move onto the next.

A soldier behind me shoots the back of my neck, and I have to react. I drop to the ground, flattening myself as much as I can. The bullet passes over me, nicking my ribs and lodging in the ground between my legs. I throw my legs back, flipping over again. They step out of the way before I can land a kick, but open up another opportunity for me. I jab my right foot out, striking their ankle. I hear the crack and they hit the deck. I finish them with a kick to the temples.

The rumbling grows to a more thundering growl, drawing all of our heads up. El Capitan begins to completely cave, the cliff toppling into the Valley. Borders hit the water with such force that waves are created. The soldiers watch as the cliff falls as it was made of sugar cubes into deep water. The chunks that fall are huge, easily twenty yards tall. They could kill an entire sports team at once. The soldiers talk to each other and I gain my breath. I force the flames deeper into the earth, focussing and breathing heavily to push them deeper. I'm almost through the mantle, and I'm behind schedule. I'm starting to panic.

"Shoot him." One of the soldiers orders. I stop my panting and pull my head up. A soldier out of my reach runs into the car. They pull out a bazooka and run closer to position it. They aim right at Andrew, and I'm not tall enough to scrape them.

What am I going to do? I can't kick them, I can't pull my hands out of the ground, not unless I want to abort the plan. I have to avenge Ty. I can't let them get away with what they've done to everyone.

I can't let them kill Andrew! He's focussing on El Capitan, he's tired, I have no doubt that they'll kill him. We're all tired, we're all sore. None of us could stop a bazooka.

I look at the ground, then the soldiers, then Andrew, standing on the cliff Half Done once did. He's the only person I love. At the same time, there's anger inside me I have to act on. I have to make the group pay. They have to suffer for killing the person I loved most. They have to burn and they have to be in agony and wish they were dead and think they made it through, only to find that the worst part comes last.

If I were to abandon my command, Kelli would never let me hear the end of it. She'd use it in every argument and she'd make the calls and everyone would listen to her. She would become the captain.

The flames break through the mantle, and the soldier finals the bazooka. No longer adjusting it, he prepared to fire. I’m almost there. I’m almost to the core. Once I reach it, I can just the magma right out and unleash it on the terrorists. I’ll get my revenge. I’ll clear my standing with Kayd. I will be captain again.

I have to choose. I either murder the b******s who killed Ty in a horrible way and make it so he didn't die in vain or save Andrew.

I don't know, I don't know! Andrew was able to forgive me for killing Ty, he's the last person I truly and genuinely love. I care deeply for Kelli and Cody, just not as much. He actually hugged me. He actually hugged me after I murdered our best friend. He would forgive me if I let him die to get revenge on the group.

I want vengeance for Ty, my emotions are screaming to murder to kill to destroy to annihilate to eliminate to agonize. They gave me emotions for a reason.

One more thought enters my mind, and my choice is made. I want to be a hero.

Heroes make sacrifices.