Page 19 of Powerless

Here goes nothing.

I draw up to my full height right behind him and silently raise the rock, intending to connect it with his skull—

No such luck.

He pivots, his black eyes boring into mine. With his attention on me, his crushing hold on the stranger drops, and I hear him gasping for air on the ground.

The Silencer lifts his slender hand towards me, his shoulder-length hair whipping in the breeze. He’s trying to Silence me.

I almost smile.

No such luck.

Nothing happens, of course, considering I have no power for him to smother. He looks at his hand, then back at me, confused. The sight is almost comical, and that split second of hesitation is all I need.

I grab his wrist, twisting his arm at an odd angle before driving my knee into his stomach. I hear the air whoosh out of his lungs as he clutches his arm to his body. And with that, my adrenaline kicks in, itching for a fight.

It reminds me of all those late nights and early mornings with my father. Hours of training in the makeshift dirt ring behind our home.“Both your mind, as well as your body, need to be trained. Conditioned,”he’d say as I dodged his punches, all while answering his dozens of questions that tested my observation. I wielded any weapon we could get our hands on while my father trained every part of my being—my mind, my body, myPsychicability.

Until one day he wasn’t there to train me anymore. Wasn’t there to protect me anymore. Wasn’t there to continue teaching me how to protect myself anymore.

The Silencer recovers quickly, throwing a punch with his good arm and jolting me from my thoughts. I duck under it and aim a right hook at his jaw. His forearm flashes up to block my blow, forcing my arm down before grabbing it and spinning me so my back is pressed against his chest. And then the crook of his other arm is trapping me in a chokehold.

I gasp for air, trying to remain calm. I fight the urge to claw uselessly at the arm crushing my windpipe and instead whip my head back, connecting my skull with his nose and earning a sickening crack followed by the sound of gurgling blood.

Blood.

There was so much of it coating the floor of our small house resting between Merchant and Elm Street. Coating me, my father. I haven’t been back since that night I ran. That night the king plunged a sword through my father’s chest.

The Silencer’s hold around my neck loosens as he stumbles back, clutching his nose. But I’m not done yet. Not even close.

I slip the ring from my thumb and slide it onto my middle finger before sinking my fist into the Silencer’s cheek, ignoring the sting in my hand. Dropping his hands from his gushing nose, he swings at me again, but I already knew it was coming.

He always takes a step with his left foot before he punches.

I block the blow and grab his shoulders as I bring my knee to his stomach once again. Before he’s even caught his breath, I have his head in my hands, driving his already broken nose down into my awaiting knee.

I channel all my rage into each blow.

My rage at the king who slipped into my father’s study where he sat in his cushioned armchair, reading late into the night.

Another right hook to the Silencer’s jaw.

My rage as I vividly remember the sound of my father’s cry when the sword tore through his chest, tearing me from sleep.

I send a kick to the Silencer’s groin.

My rage as I saw my father sliding out of his beloved armchair and onto the ground, slipping in his blood.

I drop and sweep my leg in a wide arc, knocking the Silencer to the ground.

My rage as I held my father’s hand, screaming and begging him to wake up.

I sat there all night, pants soaked with blood, trying to puzzle out what could possibly justify killing him. But the king doesn’t need a reason to kill, he needs a reason to let peoplelive.

I beat down on the Silencer, barely aware of what I’m doing as my mind reels.

I was numb. My hand clamped around my father’s cold one, holding it while I rocked back and forth, sobs shaking my body. I brushed his brown hair from his eyes, straightened his bloody clothes, whispered about all the memories we shared while begging him to come back to me so we could make more.

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