Esper Chapter 9: Into the Cold

Part 1

“You’re late…but at this point, I’m used to you being late; which is why I extended our session appropriately.” Amala Singh was welcomed into a warmly lit, and inviting office. Sitting back in her expensive leather chair, the psychologist readied her pen and clipboard. “Have you not been sleeping well? Are the nightmares back?” Without a word, Amala plopped down onto the couch and laid back in purple sweats, detached stare affixed on her face. “Do you not want to chat today? It would be a shame since we’ve made so much progress. We’ve moved past the Newtonville lights, past you getting your first real job with your department, heck we even spoke about you dancing.”

“You know, Lidia, I…danced today, actually.” In astonishment, the therapist witnessed a small smile crease Amala’s typically sullen face.

“OK, tell me about it.”

“A friend came over…and he was…”

“Friend? Who would that friend be?”

“Um…” Amala questioned herself. (How much should I tell her? I guess I can just talk about the dancing.) She decided. “Nicolaus.” Said with all the confidence of a child called before the principal.

“Nicolaus…Thompson? I had no idea you two were close.”

“…We…” Considering the state of their relationship gave Amala pause. (Nicolaus and I are friends, right? I…am I overstepping boundaries?)

“…” Amala’s hesitation was palpable. Feeling a need to break down the girl’s walls of trepidation, the therapist, Lidia, spoke up. “He seems like a fine young man. I’ve met him before, very shy though.”

“Yes, Lidia! He is!” Enthusiasm, unlike Lidia had seen before, sparked in Amala’s eyes! “To think, he said didn’t know how to dance! Can you believe that?!” Amala rose from her slumped posture on the couch, brimming newfound elation! Thinking about dancing with someone warmed Amala’s chest with a familiar, long lost nostalgia. “Having to teach him how to dance…he acted so much like Chelsea.” Once again, her thin shoulders drooped.

“Chelsea is someone you mentioned before. You said she wasn’t around anymore; is it right to assume she’s…”

“Chelsea is dead. She died years ago…my best friend, my big sister.” Amala had accepted that fact. Death was the end of the line. No moving forward, or looking back.

“Big sister? I thought you only had a little brother.”

“She was more family to me than my brother, mom…and definitely dad.”

“From the interactions we’ve discussed with your father, it doesn’t sound like you have many warm figures left in your life.”

“Warm…” A word that brought to mind four faces. “…Lidia, you looked into me, right? Did you find anything about Ms. Helga’s boarding school for girls?”

“If not for you mentioning it multiple times, I’d have zero idea of the connection you shared with that…incident.”

“Advantage of being a minor at the time. All the interviewers who came up to me after Newtonville were also none the wiser.”

“Amala, this has been a sticking point in all of our previous sessions too. You never speak about that point in your life. Reading up on the incident, I can infer your connection; however, I’d like to hear from you about what happened.”

“…” That flickering warmth in her chest; Amala prayed it could withstand a dip into murky days long past. Fear the rekindled happiness may only be momentary, doused by harsh cold memories, Amala shuttered. “No one believed me when I told them years ago. They said I was…remembering things wrong, that dates and times didn’t match up, that I was lying! Will you hear me out…?”

Part 2

Life under my father’s roof was suffocating. “Amala, why can’t you cook yet?!” He had expectations for what kind of daughter I should’ve been, and I didn’t measure up. “A girl your age must be able to cook! Karthika, teach her! She will never find a husband like this!” He didn’t bother to understand me! My father had grown up in a different world, in a different time. “Amala, I fought to make money here. Your brother, your mother, and you have to work hard too! It’s so we can all have a happy life.”

“Amala, why did you not attend that young girls meet up? I arranged for you to go!” My mother, Karthika, wanted the perfect daughter; simple. “If you don’t socialize, you’ll never make friends. Never find a good husband!” My parents saw me as a prize on a shelf; something to be won. “You should have a skill…something to make you seem special. We want you to live the American dream! Don’t you want to be happy?” It wasn’t about what I wanted, it was about how we were seen. “Amala, you like to dance, right?”

My father, Ramesh, began dragging me to dance classes, to ballet. “You will learn this ballet and dance Swan Lake, that will make you a proper young lady!” I didn’t want to. I liked dancing, but every day was painful and tiring!

He’d drill me at home, running me ragged, while my mother told me to stay beautiful. “Amala, you’re getting too big! You cannot become so muscly, that is not the shape of a woman!” She would screen every piece of food that went in my mouth! “Now you are getting too thin! Amala, how will you make friends if you’re too sickly to play with them? Dear Ramesh, what will we do with this girl?”

They started to resent me, even if not openly. My parents’ focus shifted to my brother until my father found a place for me…a place away from them; Ms. Helga’s boarding school for girls. “You’ll be staying here for a while, Amala.” They saw me off with a smile, expecting I’d come out the perfect little girl, and trophy.

My first couple of weeks were lonely. All the other girls had already been friends for years, so I was an outsider. From class, to practice, and eating, all alone, and I loathed it. I begged my mother to come and get me, but she swore it was for my own good! Crying at night, eating in the bathroom stall, changing in the empty locker rooms…I slowly lost hope that I’d ever make friends until…

“Hi.” One of the caretakers introduced a brooding girl, only about 2 years older, to me. “You’re…Amlila? Right?” I was taken aback by the girl’s boyishly short, messy, black hair and constant scowl immediately! The staff wanted us to be friends, as she was interested in ballet too. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m…hey!” I just walked away, going about my business. She had one chance in my mind, and getting my name wrong was an instant fail!

During practice, I noticed her; she was lacking in ability. The instructor spent so much time with her that he didn’t even bother to help me! It was vexing, as I believed that dancing Swan Lake was my way out! He kept her behind and worked with her one night, so I waited for the girl afterwards.

“…” It was the two of us, alone. “…You’re a bad dancer. You should quit!” It just came out! Back then, saying things on my mind was just easier…

She turned to look at me, then came close and gripped me up by the collar of my shirt! “So, you don’t talk to me for two weeks and this is the first thing you say?” I was scared silent. “You little brat, I should hit you!” That scared me even worse! Frozen in her grasp, with my feet hanging above the ground, idiotically, my mouth kept running!

“W-Why do you even want to do this?! You don’t even look like a ballerina!” Her hair, rough expressions, and wide frame was more like a boy’s! And as promised, she hit me…lightly on top of the head.

“You’re a brat. Next time, I won’t let you off so easily, but since you finally spoke, this is your freebie.” Humiliating.

Every practice I’d watch the instructor training her. Even with the extra attention she wasn’t getting much better. She was so standoffish, only talking with the scariest girls in ballet class. After the other girls changed and left one night, I watched her trying in vain just to pirouette. It went on until I couldn’t take it anymore! “You’re doing it wrong!” I stepped in, pushing past our instructor! “Like this!” Effortlessly, I pirouetted; all my effort on display!

“I-I can do it too!” She tried, and failed, frustrating her and annoying me! We kept trying, again and again for over an hour, until, finally! “How…was that?” At long last, she was able to perform that basic movement!

“Good…you did it!” Drenched in sweat, legs quivering like jelly, we laid on the floor, deathly tired.

“Thanks, Amlila!” Again, she messed up my name!

“Amala! A-MA-LA! My name is Amala Singh!” That outburst must’ve surprised her as much as it did me! The girl began laughing which broke the awkwardness.

“Sorry! Don’t get mad. I’m Chelsea Becke, Amala Singh!”

Part 3

“Don’t be like that.”

“No! I don’t know them! I don’t want to!” After our numerous interactions in ballet practice, Chelsea insisted that I get to know her other friends; since she’d grown overly attached to me.

“Amala, if you’re going to stick to me like this, then you gotta’ meet the girls.” Three other girls, all intimidating in their own unique ways, chatted on the playground. “Hey girls, this is Amala! Amala, this is Sasha, Loran and Patricia!” They were all a bit scary. “She’s the one I told you about.”

“Oh, the little Indian girl who’s been stuck to you?” One of them, who turned out to be Loran, asked as she lowered herself from the monkey bars.

“No!” I felt her misgivings needed to be disproved to maintain my image! “She’s the one hanging around me all the time!” I wouldn’t allow anyone to look down on me!

“…I don’t think that’s true.” They’d taken my clutching of Chelsea’s skirt, and using her as a divider to separate us, as if I were a scared child; all misinterpretations, of course!

“Haha! Well, it’s nice to meet you!”

The girls laughed. I was embarrassed, but if Chelsea liked them, I’d at least try to give them a chance. Throughout the rest of the year we all practiced day in and day out! Sasha, Loran and Patricia all had some ballet talent, though Chelsea always struggled. Because of that, I’d spend time with her after practice to get in extra reps. There were many nights when the two of us would work late into the evening alongside our instructor to make sure Chelsea was keeping up. The girls would normally wait for us or even join in; because as I learned, all five were from a group home. They’d begun living at Ms. Helga’s boarding school for girls since the group home had almost completely abandoned them for one reason or another.

“Hey Ama, wait here! Those bitches down the block started talking reckless again!” Occasionally, Sasha would lead the girls into big fights with other groups of girls in town. She was bigger and stronger than most other girls I knew; much like Chelsea she treated me like a little sister.

“We weren’t even there. We were with Amala in their room, right Amala?” Loran had one of the best poker faces ever, excellent at keeping me safe and out of trouble.

“Ammy! I love your hair SO much! Let me braid it!” Patricia was so pretty. She’d spend tons of time on her own, the others’, and my hair. I thought she’d have made a great stylist! “I’m so jelly! You don’t need make up, or even have to worry about split ends.”

“You’re right. She will absolutely make a perfect lead for Swan Lake.” Hearing that come from our instructor dumped a truck load of excitement, anxiety and hope on my tiny shoulders! “As the lead, Amala will have to spend extra time training with me, but I’ve seen that you’re driven, more than anyone! You have a drive that will take you very far in the world of dance.” I almost squealed with joy! It was all I wanted; to show my father and mother that I was progressing, show my worth! I told the girls countless times how I felt; so when the instructor finally recognized my hard work, I looked to them, hoping for cheers! I didn’t get them.

Chelsea and the others all looked troubled…or maybe the right word would have been dispirited. At the time, I believe it was because they wanted the spotlight for themselves. “Good for you, Amala.” My closest friend in the world, Chelsea flashed a wary smile. We spent the rest of the night having a little party to celebrate! That night, for once in the year and a half since I’d started at that school, I didn’t think of my parents, just my new family. Eventually, everyone fell asleep in mine and Chelsea’s room; she and I shared her bed, as the others slept on the other bunk or floor. She rolled over to me, whispering something, just before I drifted off. “Amala…I’ll protect you. I’m your big sister, after all.” It was a puzzling statement, etched into my memories.

After that, each day became brutal. I was drilled relentlessly by our instructor. Any movement, every meal, all the songs and positioning were scrutinized to the smallest detail, no matter what! Despite all the other girls being around, I was the main focus. He’d keep a close eye on me, watching my every step and ultimately, my every fault. I left those day feeling totally inadequate, and undeserving.

“Amala, stay after practice. I’d like to work with you a bit more.” The others were let out for the day, leaving me alone with him. I’d never worked alone with the instructor, so there was an imposing air about the studio. He began pushing me further and further, harder than I’d ever worked, until I was met with… “I see…” Tangible disappointment. “…I may have to make a few changes.” Scribbling down notes on his clipboard, it made me feel physically sick! “I had…higher hopes.” That was it.

“I’ll get it, I swear! Anything I need to do!” I begged, tears about to break from my eyes!

“Fine…let’s head back to the bar. I think the main issue is your flexibility. Let’s work on that.” Despite thinking that I was the most flexible dancer in the entire troupe, I resolved to do whatever he wanted, unquestionably! “Raise your leg. Point your toes, higher, higher!” He placed his hand on my leg, pushing it up! The discomfort was unbearable; his fingers dug into my thighs and backside, stretching my body nearly beyond its limits, but…

“Oh, you’re still here! Cool!” Chelsea burst into the room, still dressed for ballet! “Can you help me with my flexibility too? I need to fix mine.” The instructor released me and we started working with Chelsea as well. We stayed late into the evening, practicing hard, leaving only once we were totally exhausted.

The next day it continued, endlessly difficult training. I was pushed to my limits again! Even with the instructor’s guidance, I wasn’t able to accomplish what was expected of me in class! At night it was just me and the instructor; I was compelled to impress him, to make him see me as a success! “Ama, what are you doing here? I came back for some extra help!” Sasha burst in through the studio door with a crooked smile, inserting herself into our one-on-one lesson!

The day after… “Oh my gosh, Amala! You’re probably exhausted, here! I made some soup for you!” Loran showed up!

Then after that… “I was looking for you, Ammy! You’ve been neglecting your hair! Here, let me fix it!” Patricia came too! By the end of the week, all my friends were showing up to my one-on-one lessons!

“Hm…” The instructor’s disinterested glare, same as my father’s, bleached my heart of any ounce of hope. “That’s enough for today. You girls all head home with Amala.”

I pulled him to the side, craving the tiniest drop of validation. “Am I…still the lead?!”

“…We’ll see…” My heart dropped. Everything felt like it’d come to stop; like I’d hit the wall.

“…” In our room, I looked at all the pictures I had of us, of me and the girls. Just as I prepared to rip them down from the wall, Chelsea stopped me!

“What are you doing?!” She screamed, her hand so big it eclipsed my tiny wrist.

“You!” I pushed Chelsea with all my might, which didn’t amount to much. “You all…why are you doing this?! I’m so close…” The others entering the room made me feel cornered, so I couldn’t bottle it up anymore! “I want to go back home! I want to be able to be with Mom, Dad, and my brother, and this is the only chance I have to show that I’m learning! If Dad doesn’t see me dancing that stupid ballet, then I’ll never be able to go back! I’ll be stuck here like all of you! You just want my spot! I know you’re all jealous of me! That I have a future! That I’ll find a handsome husband! That I’ll be the most beautiful, best dancer in the world! That you’ll have nothing, and I’ll have everything! You all hate me?! Well, I hate you!”

Everyone went silent. That didn’t help. No one screamed back, or showed the slightest animosity! I left and begged for another room; skipping practice the next day too, but working on my own, alone.

Late one evening, our instructor came to my temporary my room to check on me. “I heard you had an argument with the others. Are you alright?” I felt like the worst person in the world, betraying the only people that ever cared! Our instructor, he ended up as the only person I had left. I wrapped my arms around him and bawled my eyes out before he could even make it through the door. “Amala…” He rubbed my back as I cried. Those tears from the fight with Chelsea, and some never wept from years of living under my father’s roof, all came out. “You don’t need to worry. I’m here for you. Even if they all leave you…I’ll be here.” His warm hand rested gently atop my head as he pulled me in close with an arm around my waist. We were so close I could hear his heart beating, feel and smell his breath. It was the first I’d ever embraced a man that wasn’t my father, but I trusted my instructor. He’d helped me so much, taught me everything I knew about ballet, he was my mentor! His voice was always soothing and with a confidence I’d never heard before, creating an aura of safety in his presence. “Amala…lay down.” He released his grip and slowly backed me onto the bed, gently closing the door behind him. I had no idea what he wanted. Maybe he wanted me to sleep, to rest and forget the pain. I thought that until he closed in…

“Amala? Hey, you told me to come by! I see your lights are on, so…” Chelsea banged on the door! I never told her to come by the room, nor was the door locked, so I was surprised she didn’t just burst in. “Is the door stuck? I’ll go get the maintenance staff!” Instantly our instructor met Chelsea at the door! “Oh! Is Amala in?”

“…You and I will have a talk later. Be prepared.” Chelsea’s face went cold with her answer.

“I know.” Our instructor left without another word. I couldn’t see what face he was making, but I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant.

“Why are you here?” Without missing a beat, Chelsea walked up and slammed her fist down on the top of my head! “W-Why?! Why do you keep doing this stuff to me?!” The tears came again as I blubbered; met with the most loving and passionate hug I’d ever experienced from Chelsea! Wrapped so tightly in her arm, I thought I was going to break in two, but at the same time, felt secure. Nothing would be able to reach me or separate us. It was a warmth unlike any other, being able to cry in the arms of my big sister.

Part 4

I woke up alone in our room. Chelsea and I had fallen asleep together as I cried myself out, but she was gone! When she suddenly opened the door, I was horrified by what I saw. She was bruised all along her legs, her clothes were torn, and her face had what looked like a handprint across the cheek!

“Chelsea!” She denied needing medical attention and just sat on the floor with me.

“You know, you’re such a brat! I wanted to go somewhere too! I know you’re more talented than anyone. Unlike you, I’m no good. No matter how hard I try, I’m just slow and clumsy. You’re too good for this place…for him…for anyone.”

“What are you talking about? What happened?”

“I’m not good at anything, so I try to do everything. Try to find something…something I’m good at. We all did, but here we are, nothing and nobodies.”

“Chelsea, you’re someone to me! You’re my big sister!” That must’ve struck a chord! For the first time I saw Chelsea make that expression, an ear-to-ear genuine smile under her swollen cheek. “No matter what, I love you!”

“I love you too, brat.” She never told me about what happened that night.

The day approached for the performance. With only one night left, I did everything I could and secured the position of lead dancer for Swan Lake! The other girls stayed much later than I did, as I was told to get my sleep. Once it’d gotten late, they came to my room, we sat, and talked the whole night away. We went on about everything, and anything, and nothing, our dreams for the future, fears, who we liked, television, the world, our lives, and it just kept going until there was only a few words left unsaid!

“Chelsea, what did you mean about protecting me?”

“Don’t worry about it. Amala…you know; adults are really bad people! Promise you won’t grow up to be a bad adult.” Serious as she could be, Chelsea said that to me with conviction.

“Okay! As long as keep dancing with me!”

“…Ok…”

“Hey Ammy, you remember all the tricks I showed you to do with your hair, right?” The soft hands of Patricia gliding through my hair was calming, though tinged with hesitation and unease.

“Duh! Got to maintain my star potential, right? That’s what Loran always says anyway.” I smiled over to Loran and Sasha who were preparing drinks. “I’m kind of scared about tomorrow, but guess what! I don’t care about going home anymore! Even if my Dad doesn’t like the show, I’ll be fine! I want to stay with you girls! Maybe if we save up, we can open a ballet studio together!”

My excitement got the better of me. We were all getting ready to sleep, but I was fired up just thinking about it! Suddenly Loran hugged me tightly, her arms so strong that I couldn’t break the grip. “Amala, you’re such a good girl.” She said solemnly. Patricia and Sasha followed, all squeezing me tightly in a big group hug!

“Stop! I can’t breathe!” I joked. In truth, I’d never felt so much love in my life! “Chelsea, come help!” But she sat there, tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

Time passed and we all slowly drifted off to sleep. I still remember the last thing Chelsea said to me that night… “Never change, brat.” As she held me.

Part 5

“…What happened after that?” Lidia wanted to know Amala’s perspective. She’d already researched the story thoroughly, yet still braced for the words to come.

Amala stared off into space, mind clouded by sentimentality and wrought with grief. “You probably already know.”

“I know what’s been written. 4 minors committed suicide, and the staff was charged with multiple cases of abuse as recounted by the diary entries of said children. The headmaster was arrested, but never jailed, as she died before the trial could be held.”

Amala took a deep breath. “I…can’t. I…woke up…with Chelsea’s arm holding me tightly.” Her chest tightened with an exhale. “I…couldn’t get away.” Air in the room grew shallow, refusing to reenter her lungs again. “I…just screamed, and screamed until someone finally found me…it felt like an eternity, that cold…stiff arm…”

“Amala, breathe! Breathe in, breathe out.” Her breathing, heartbeat, and Lidia’s pleading to calm down couldn’t drown out the roaring emotions!

“Why is it that…?”

The therapist placed rested her hand genteelly on the shaking woman’s back. “Amala…why do you think no one believed you? This is all…”

“No! That place was hell!” Amala stormed over to the window and pulled it open with violent fervor, taking long deep breaths! “I was blind to it when I was younger!” Guilt crushed all solace; the cold night air of reality chilled away any flickering warmth. “Look!” On her phone, Amala loaded up an internet forum! “I know what happened, and it will never happen again!”

Lidia scrunched her brow with concern. “…What is this, Amala?” Name, locations, finances, and crimes were listed on the sketchy page.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t do my job! Every time I try and make headway in life, it’s all I can think about! I know what they did to my sister. No one will suffer like she did, like they did.”

Part 6

[Amala, message me when you’re able to! I know things have been difficult, but the execs upstairs are making a lot of noise lately. If you need more time off, I’ll cover for you, but YOU will have to submit the request!] The message marked read went unanswered. It’d come through at a little past midnight, just minutes before she planned to move.

Dry, cold winds cutting through numerous hollowed out shops and broken windows pushed discarded trash across a deserted lot’s asphalt. From atop one such abandoned factory, two men could be seen welcoming a car of three others. They left the two men outside as they entered a garage, closing the shutters behind them. The desolate area was deathly silent, unaware of awaiting the lioness’s bubbling anticipation. Overlooking the affair, Amala Singh eyed the shop. Her mind was abuzz with the words of her therapist. Wanting to look away from all the theories polluting her mind, to go home and rest; but she couldn’t. Those notions, while sweet, were pointless. Amala refused to turn a blind eye, never again!

[Joffe’s arrest means the rats are going to flee the ship!]

[The police are arresting us?! Here’s why they aren’t arresting the traffickers!]

[When should we move? We’ve got their names, their locations and what they’re planning. If we wait too long, they’ll move, and we’ll miss them!]

All posts saved onto the young woman’s phone were viewed multiple times. Amala’s focus remained transfixed on each one, each response, each time stamp, and every word. Shallow, breaths forced their way out of her mouth as Amala’s brittle coolheaded nature continued to crack.

Her chest heaved, and hands shook, trying to focus on the words before her eyes. Thoughts of her friends, those happy memories from a different time and place became harder and harder with each breath to grasp! All the smiles and laughs were smeared by twisted desires of those who ruined her sanctuary; robbed her, and the hands of justice simply glanced over! Alone Amala stood; her only comfort knowing that she’d defend that warmth for others, keeping it from being snuffed out by those with dark intentions.

Amala pulled the dark purple hood over her head and with one final deep breath, leapt from the ten-story building. The mauve haze plumed forth, surrounding her, and gracefully carried Amala to the ground, her sneakers making nary a sound upon impact. Slowly, the incarnation of righteous fury strolled over to the men waiting outside of the garage.

“Hm? Who’s that?” One asked, as he reached for the gun in his waistband!

“Some kid? Yo, kid, get the fuck out of here!” The other man approached! He felt no fear as he easily stood more than a foot taller than the figure cloaked in purple sweats. “Didn’t I say to get—”

Before another word could be uttered, the man fell to his knees, his view no longer resting on the small person before him, but on his partner behind! Confused, any attempt to speak was unable to pass through a twisted esophagus! His head sat backwards on his body atop a broken neck!

Stunned at what he’d seen, the partner grabbed his gun, but Amala’s purple haze shoot at him like a firehose! The force of the telekinetic smoke blasted the man head over heels, slamming the back of his skull onto the ground and splitting it open!

Without a hint of remorse, she strolled past the corpses unabated. Ready to peer into the garage through one of the grime caked windows, rustling and whispering from within alerted her! Amala assumed they’d become aware of her presence, thus slightly altered her plans. Using her telekinesis, Amala pulled herself upward to a window on the roof overlooking the floor below. Three men stood ready, all armed with guns.

Placing her fingers across the brim of the window; she could pull it open, but the noise would’ve likely brought the men’s attention upward. Focusing her telekinesis, Amala used the haze to grab a hold of the shutter at the front and rattled it!

The man closest to the door jumped and blew through the entrance, shaking until he saw the two dead bodies before him! “Fuck man! Greg and Brock are dead!” He screamed running back inside!

“Hold up, what?” Another man moved toward the door as both peered out! “Christ! What happened?!”

“Drop your guns!” The small, light voice of a young woman caught both men off guard! They turned to find the hooded Amala, gripping their accomplice up in the air with a mysterious purple smoke!

“Wha-who…the…”

“I said, drop your guns! That wasn’t a request! Do it now or I’ll kill him!” A stone cold order was given to both baffled men.

“Fuck you, bitch! What is this?!”

“…Arnold Patrick, Keith Lawless, Howard Tanner, Liam Joffe…who are you guys under? Who are you working for…?” The mist tightened around the suspended man’s neck, choking him!

“What does she know?! Fuck it!” The man nearest Amala opened fire, but she used his partner to block the bullets and dodged to the side behind a metal table!

That table was suddenly flung across the room by a telekinetic blast! The corner crashed into the shooter’s head, knocking him to the ground as the other prepared to open fire! Before he could locate Amala, several sharp pains dug into his leg!

“Agh! Fuck! Agg—” His cries were cut short as two rusty nails quickly pierced his forehead! The man’s lifeless body collapsed. Amala breezed by her victims and up to the last living man who lay, barely conscious on the floor.

Using her power, she dragged him to his feet off the greasy floor, then pinned him against the wall with the same metal table used to stun him before! She glared deeply into the dazed eyes of her captive and shoved the table’s edge into his abdomen.

“Ugh! S-Stop…” He regained some awareness and understood the situation. All four other men had been killed, and an unknown person with super powers had him trapped! “Let me go, please! I swear, I’ll quit! I’ll turn my life around! I won’t hurt anyone ever again…I swear to God! Please!”

“Shut up.” Rummaging through her pocket, Amala brought up her phone, searching for something. “Look here; are all these locations correct?” The information she’d gathered from Omar Redmond’s phone was displayed. The man quickly skimmed through the notes and felt his heart sink as he knew that the person before him was aware of all about their shady dealings.

“W-Will you let me go if I tell you?”

“…” That incensed the small, vengeful woman. The haze slammed the table against the man’s body, cracking ribs and pinning him harder against the brick wall!

“Gah! O-Okay, okay! Yes, they’re right!” Blood oozed from his mouth as the man doubled over.

“Are these where they store the children?! Are you keeping kids there?!”

“Lady, I don’t know…ok…I just deliver shit, ok…drugs, guns, I don’t ask!” He wept.

“…Your complicity is just as bad! Ignoring suffering, keeping your head down, just allowing those who are innocent to have their lives ruined! You…” Amala quickly scrolled through her phone, bringing up more information! “Are these people named here correct?! Answer me!”

“Far as I know…yeah. Like I said, lady, I’m just a driver.”

“…You’re a criminal. Last question, who do you work for…?”

“…Joffe…”

“I knew it.” Amala stepped back and pulled the table away from the man. He fell to the ground, wheezing, blood pouring from his mouth and clutching his broken ribs.

The man struggled to stand again, and slowly shambled toward the door. Reaching out for the knob, grasping it in his hand, that glimmer of hope was snuffed out! Unbeknownst to him, five rusted nails floated alongside Amala, wrapped in her telekinetic haze. With zero hesitation, she hurled three of them into the back of the man’s skull, killing him instantly!

Weirdly, Amala stood confused as two of the three clattered to the ground beside her. She spent no time concerning herself with them, and left. That night, Amala resolved herself to finish her mission, to rescue whatever children were in distress that she could; to never allow what happened to her friends to happen to anyone else; no matter what it would cost her.

End of Chapter 9