Clara
I should have known that fight at the Savage Sector would have consequences.
I should have just gone back to Simon's place after Alister left.
I should have ignored the 13-year-old girl crying in the park nearby or spent time talking to that little runaway.
Shouldn't have offered to go with those men when they threatened to kill her if I didn't drop the gun.
So many regrets. So many ways I could have avoided being tied up in the back of a van with a child pressed against my side, staring through the window at trees blurring past like streaks of green and black. My head's still dizzy from being hit, and my limbs are numb from sitting in the same position for too long.
Ava's still asleep. Chubby cheeks streaked with dried tears and a brown ponytail about to come loose. Her white dress is covered with dust and creases. Her pink duffle bag is gone, where she had hurriedly stuffed some clothes in before she ran away from home over an argument with her mom. It wasn't even that serious for her to act that dramatically. The fact that she cried for her mom and repeatedly muttered "sorry" as they tossed us into the van proved she had regrets too.
But she wasn't even their target. They're only bringing her along to keep me in check. I could've easily gone invisible and escaped if it wasn't for her. The fact that they might have used whatever powers they have to catch me again would have been a whole other matter. But at least, for now, they don't know my ability. Just that I had a glowing gemstone on my chest when I fought them at Savage Sector. That was enough to contact these "special" people.
There are three cars, which seems a tad overkill for capturing one person. Seven people in this van, eight in the other, and five in a smaller black car.
I know they're taking me to their base. And I know I'm running out of time to do something. I don't have a phone, weapons, or enough space to do anything. There's a lazy guy with a mustache who is mute, Brian, in the back here, tasked to keep an eye on us. He has a gun ready to shoot.
I've stared at it for a while. As if that'll magically transport it into my tied hands.
"Damnit, Jeff!" I hear someone call from up front. "I told you not to eat inside! I just washed this van for the 6th time this month!" He sounds really agitated, and I hear the crinkle of a snack packet being snatched away.
A plan comes into my mind. A risky and humiliating one, but if it buys me time, it's worth every shred of dignity I've got left.
"Stop the car!" I yell out. Brian, who's been slouched half-asleep, jolts awake. Even Ava shifts beside me, mumbling in confusion. Two heads whip around from the front seats, their faces twisted with suspicion.
"I need to go to the bathroom!" I blurt.
The way their expressions sour instantly does not help the embarrassment. But I try to stay focused, squeezing my legs together as I knit my brows in concern. "Please! It's an emergency!"
"Hold it in. We're not stopping." A man up front voices. I recognize it as the one with snake eyes, who held Ava hostage with a gun to her head. And the one who was contacted to capture me.
"I can't anymore!" I push harder, my tone breaking into near-hysteria. "I've been holding it since I got in. Please—I don't want to do it here."
"Don't you dare!" The one whose van this is grunts. "Ugh, stop the car next to that playground." He barks at whoever's driving. Brian, who hasn't said a word, seems irritated. As if he's been waiting for this nightmare to be over so he could clock out and go home—now, thanks to me, I've just added overtime.
I feel the engine below me slow down to a stop and breathe a sigh of relief that we're stopping. One of the men calls someone, probably from the other cars, and informs them about the situation.
The back doors are flung open, flooding the cramped space with a burst of cool, fresh air. I'd be grateful for it—if not for the silhouette filling the doorway. The snake-eyed, hulking figure, with a scar crossing his cheek and a snake wristband on his arm. His presence is heavier than the stale air he just let out. His ability works like Medusa from the myths. That's how I couldn't press the trigger when he stared at me as his eyes glew gold. They aren't glowing now, thankfully.
"Brian." He orders in a gruff voice.
Brian nods his head and pulls out an empty green vial from his pocket. He reaches out and touches my throat. I feel his grubby fingers press lightly as he begins a chant.
Ava and I watch in surprise as a faint glow rises in my throat. A tendril of light, sickly green, slips past my lips like something being stolen from me against my will. I try clenching my mouth shut, pressing my lips together so hard they sting—but it doesn't matter. The glow seeps through, curling into the vial with a serpentine grace, writhing until the glass hums with it.
Once it's done, Brian lets go of my throat and drinks whatever is in the vial.
While I don't feel hurt, there's a strange sensation inside me. A wrongness. It isn't pain. It's… absence. A hollowness that doesn't feel hollow—like I should notice something gone but can't. It's when I try to ask what that is, do I realize what happened.
My voice. It's gone.
"Brian! Say something!" A man in a red baseball cap looks over excitedly at him. Brian scowls and looks away.
"No." He replies in my voice, and the baseball cap guy bursts into laughter while I stare at him in horror.
He...stole my voice.
"Listen closely." The gruff man begins as he reaches behind me to untie the ropes, "It goes without saying that if you try anything funny, we'll kill the kid. And if you make a scene in front of the people in this playground, we'll kill everyone there."
A shiver runs down my spine as I massage the tender places on my wrist where the rope had bitten into. I make myself tremble, lower my head, and nod meekly. Trying to look like I'm holding back tears. Anything to make me seem like a weak, helpless girl.
The cap guy is assigned to escort me to the restrooms and make sure all is well.
With each step, my eyes sweep across the park, watching families scattered across the benches and grill stands. Children chase each other across the grass, squealing in delight, while parents laugh at jokes that only belong to their world. A warm, ordinary world. One wrong twitch from me, one false step, and their world could shatter. Their laughter could turn to screams.
The flap of wings turns my attention to the indigo sky. Three crows seem to be following me. I don't believe in omens. At least, I didn't. But right now, with the weight in my stomach dragging me down, it feels too much like a warning.
"Go in. It's empty." The man says, coming out of the restroom.
I quickly rush in and shut the door.
For a moment I let the silence swallow me whole, then I grip the edge of the sink until my knuckles burn.
Think. There has to be something! Some way I can communicate without panicking anyone or getting them killed.
I shut my eyes and rest my forehead against the wall.
What would Alister do?
I smile at the thought and shake my head.
Alister wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Even if he was, he'd simply kill them all without caring if an innocent person gets hurt. So. Probably not the best person to think about right now.
I stare down at the roll of toilet paper on top of a sink until finally, an idea comes to mind. I brace myself and bite into my thumb, flinching as a drop of blood threatens to drip out.
Tearing a cleaner piece of the toilet paper, I quickly jot down a message. It stings, but I force myself to focus.
After that, I take a deep breath and activate my ability. Walking towards the small window at the corner of the bathroom, I carefully climb out of it. The window faces the parking lot directly, and I could see the cars waiting. I force my nerves into submission, narrowing my focus to the three tasks that matter most.
1) I drift toward a couple seated on a bench, their attention fixed on the children squealing down the slides. I inch towards the two and swiftly pull out a phone from the woman's bag while she's distracted.
After finally hiding at a safe distance behind bushes where no one can see me, I let go of my invisibility. I could have held on to it, but I've noticed that the longer I keep it up, the more breathless I feel.
I quickly call 911 and wait for the operator.
"911, how can I help you?"
My performance begins. I inhale sharply, forcing ragged, panicked breaths. With a pinch of dust to my eyes and nose, tears stream down my face, my voice cracking with muffled sobs and strangled sounds—the frantic cries of a mute victim struggling to speak. The operator presses for my name, but I refuse to give them clarity. It's enough. Enough to convince them, enough to make sure they triangulate the signal.
2) I close the phone abruptly, activate my ability again and move on to my next task. Leaving the phone in the bushes, I make my way to the trashcan where I know I saw a broken bottle and some other sharp things. I slip a piece up my sleeve and carry the rest back to the van. Carefully, I place the big shards and a few other objects that will puncture a tire.
I have to create whatever minor obstacles I can. Every second of delay matters. I know with a terrible certainty that once I reach their intended destination, the game is over. Escape will no longer exist; I'll be bound to their mercy.
3) I circle back to the couple. They're hunched now, rifling beneath the bench in search of the missing phone. I slip the blood-marked toilet paper into the woman's purse. It's only a matter of time before she looks inside and finds the messages. The one informing about a kidnapping that just happened and the plate number of the car that took them.
Now that I've set the stage, it's only a matter of time before the police arrive and those parents alert them about the bloody message.
I sprint back toward the bathroom, slipping once more through the narrow window. Inside, I release the ability, sagging before the mirror. My reflection stares back—ashen, wide-eyed, and exhausted.
The floral dress I chose for my meetup with Alister is all wrinkled now. My eyes look red from when I cried. My braid is a tangle, strands jutting out.
I pull it loose, and let the hair fall down around me, curtain-like. It's always been my shield. Hide the shaking hands. Hide the face that can't smile right. Hide whatever I want hidden.
I splash cold water on my face, the shock pulling me back into my body. Then I walk towards the exit where the man is waiting for me.
I want to run. God, I want to run. My legs ache with the need to bolt, to vanish, to slip back into silence and pretend this isn't happening. That's who I've always been—the girl who obeys, who endures, and who adapts to blend in. Someone who shuts her eyes at the truth and looks away.
But I will not sit back and watch another life be broken.
I take a breath, deep enough to burn, and force my hands still, focusing on the shard hidden in my sleeve. Step by step, I'll walk out of here. Step by step, I'll face what's waiting.
If this is the risk I have to take, then so be it.