Tara breathed in deeply as she looked around the bathroom. Her sister was quietly weeping in the corner and she could hear the hammer beating in the door behind her. It was just as she remembered it. The musk of fear and rage was palpable, but this time it would be different, this time she was stronger.
The numbers swam in her vision as she moved over to her sister. She knew that she could prepare a trap, but she felt like the relief would be far greater if she cleared her shame with her own two hands. The only problem she had was that the bathroom they had hidden in was ridiculously small. There was nowhere to move, nowhere to dodge, so the moment that the hammer broke down that door she would have to make a lethal strike. She began twisting the fingers in her right hand to touch the numbers that floated around the room and stroked her sister’s hair with her left. “Dinnae fash yersel, sis. This bawbag’s nae gonna’ ken what hit him,” she said with a grin.
Her twin sister wiped away the tear stains on her face while looking at Tara in confusion. “Ye sure?”
The thumping continued, but it was joined by a splintering as the wood began to give way against the force being applied by the figure behind the door. With each breath the numbers that flickered round Tara’s right hand, coalescing into a pale red light. The door began splitting along the middle and against the edges, reminding her of Jack Nicholson’s insanity in the Shining. Sadly she was living the experience rather than just watching it, something she found far less pleasant than the alternative.
She moved her glowing hand behind the shower curtain and watched as the wood of the door gave way, revealing the deranged face of her uncle behind it. As she stared him down, she felt her sister’s hand taking hold of her own, and reaffirmed her decision to protect the girl at all costs.
Their uncle gave a sweaty grin as his hand reached in to open the lock. Somehow it had been the one thing that had held through his damage. What she thought was a flimsy bolt had kept her living for longer than anything else. She made eye contact with her sister for a moment before smiling wickedly and turning back to the slowly opening door. She gazed at the balding man, with sweat stained tracksuit bottoms and a plain white t-shirt. She hated looking at him but she had to be sure of this hitting.
Her right hand spring in front of her and as both her sister and uncle gazed at the light within she whispered the word “dhelim”. Flames sprung from her hand like a lance and struck the man in the doorway, igniting him and pinning him against the wall. As the man’s body was reduced to cinders, Tara ushered her sister out of the bathroom.
“Kara,” she said after no response, “Git a move on. We’ve about two minutes before this entire flatblock begins burning up. Grab what ye gantin for from this hellhole and let’s git out o’ here”.
Kara shook herself from her stupor and got up before asking, “Where’re we gonna’ go?”
“Dinnae worry yer heid about that, I’ve got some ideas, and when we’re all settled I’ll show ye something you’re gonna’ love”.
“What’re ya going to show me?”
“Magic,” Tara replied with a smile.
