by Gina Shafer
“We can’t save them all, Soren.”
Dad would have, I think and gaze glumly out the window. I try once more to break free from Marcel but something stops me, brings me up short, and nearly paralyzes me. From the corner of the building I see a flash of bright red. At first I think it’s flame, spurting from the burning building, but the color is too familiar, too…
Too much like my mother’s hair. I shove the thought down so far that I find it hard to recall the way it looked. I almost forget the other times I’ve seen that same flash of red hair in my life. Like I’m haunted by it.
Haunted by my mother, was abandoned by my father. What does this world have to offer me besides death and pain and destruction?
Better yet, what do I have to offer it? I clench my hands into fists, feeling raw power surge through me, and I keep it there, holding it in.
My power is my secret, and I don’t speak of it for a very long time.
