The Fight
When Rose came to, she was lying on her side with her face in the sand. Surprised to find she was not restrained, she tried to sit up but the world started to spin, and she saw stars. The pain was almost overwhelming. Her brain felt too big for her head and every time she moved, she could feel it trying to break free. It made her sick to her stomach and she had to close her eyes again for a minute to steady herself before she could try again.
Careful not to make any sudden movements, she surveyed her surroundings. The entire scene was complete chaos.
Except for the people she knew, she couldn't tell who was good and who was bad. Even the beautiful gifted strangers seemed to be a different kind of bad. Not like Malleus and his thugs, but certainly not like Mirabelle.
To a stranger, this beach would seem like a scene from a movie or a hallucination. There were at least fifty people fighting, hand to hand. But the seriously out of the ordinary sight was the plants, wind, water, and fire employed as part of the action.
Megan and Amber were in the middle of a circle of thrashing thorny vines and they were completely protected. Megan was waving her hands around like she was conducting an orchestra.
Spotting Hazel and Grandma lying in the sand, not far from where she had been dumped, Rose scooted to them and put a finger first to Grandma's throat, then to Hazel's to check for a pulse. They were both alive.
But where was her mom?
“Die, witch!” a man's voice yelled. “And take all your filthy kind with you!”
Rose's heart jumped into her throat. She scanned the crowd for him and saw he was talking to someone else – fighting with someone she didn't know.
Rose pretended she was still unconscious.
As the scuffle moved away, she cast about again for her mom. She was nowhere to be seen, but there were so many tight groups of fighters, and she couldn't see what was on the other side of the bonfire. It had grown to massive proportions.
On closer inspection, Rose realized why. The fire had one of the wooden platforms in it, with someone on top – tied to the stake!
Rose had to fight to keep from vomiting. Whoever was on that platform was completely engulfed in flames. There was no way someone could live through that.
The smoke from the fire was barreling into the air, creating a massive black funnel. Its smell was more than Rose could handle.
What kind of monsters are they? she thought.
No longer worried about blowing her cover, Rose stood, fists to her side. Fury welled up from somewhere deep inside of her – fury like she'd never felt before, fed by her fear and the immense pain in her head.
Something about it was familiar – like the tingling she felt when she was healing someone, but this was darker, more feral.
Growling and baring her teeth, she mentally felt for the water. She opened her hands, palms facing back.
The dark feeling was swelling, and she felt it in her arms. Instinctively, she slowly started raising them out to her sides.
The only concern left in the world was the woman in the fire; Rose couldn’t hear what was happening around her. Distant and muted, the fights had faded into the back of her consciousness. She could only hear the burning woman's screams, and the roar of the ocean behind her.
Finally, she raised her hands above her head, and began walking towards the fire. The woman screamed again, and Rose recognized her voice.
Once again, it was her mom.
She was unrecognizable. Her skin was charred completely. There was nothing left of her appearance to identify her, just her voice. It tore something inside Rose's soul.
“NO!” she screamed, and the strange power was audible.
Everyone stopped fighting. They were staring at the ocean behind Rose, and the growing wave she controlled.
Rose threw her hands forward in the most violent motion she had ever made.
There was water all around. Rose swirled in it, and couldn't tell which way was up. Unable to breathe, she closed her eyes, willed the water to keep her safe, and a moment later, she bobbed to the top. She thought of those she loved, and hoped her will would work for them, too.
As the water receded, Rose saw people being swept away. The blonde bombshell was gone, and there was nothing Rose could do to help her. She saw the Crossword Puzzle Thug in the waves, too.
Beyond the shore, there were others struggling in the water, but it was almost like they were just light colored dots on a black canvas. It reminded Rose of an abstract painting, like you'd see in a museum.
Rose flipped around to look at the bonfire. The platform had held steady, but the fire was gone.
Her mom was slumped there, still tied to the stake, skin black from head to toes. She had no hair left.
She's dead! Rose thought. Now I am all alone.
Fighting the urge to lie down and shut the world out, Rose went to her, and gently loosened the ropes that held her in place.
Holding her mom in her arms, Rose wept. The rest of the world didn't matter anymore. It was pointless. All of it.
She had been so convinced there was something more – something beyond this life. That her dad was in a better place. Now she was not so sure.
Then her mother took a breath.
Rose sat bolt upright. A wave of hope rushed through her, and she reached out to feel for a pulse.
She's alive! Rose thought with sheer joy, but can I fix this?
How could she possibly heal someone whose entire body was burnt beyond recognition?
I have to try, she told herself, as the agony she felt for her mom spurred her on.
“Mom, I love you. Don't you leave me!” she pled as she gently laid her mom's head in her lap.
Placing both hands on her mom as softly as possible, Rose thought of all the times her mom had been there for her. When her dad died, she thought she loved him more, but she had been wrong. Her mom was more serious than her dad had been but she was also wonderful, and always devoted to her family. She always knew the right thing to say, and when not to say anything at all. She knew Rose in ways Rose didn't even know herself.
The tingling started in her heart and it wasn't long before her mom was surrounded in the colors that made Rose's heart sing with hope.
Rose thought of the doll her mom made her for Christmas one year. All the other kids were getting Cabbage Patch Kids and Rose asked for one, too. Instead, her mom had made her a doll. She had painted on the eyes, and sewn in long, brown yarn for hair. It had been a disappointment at the time, yet she had slept with the doll for years. Remembering the sweet smell of the doll, she knew how much love must have gone into its creation.
Her mom had always sacrificed her time to make sure Rose made it to her lessons. She would buy some cheesy news magazine and sit in the car with a Coke, doing the crossword puzzle while Rose practiced soccer, softball, or track.
She may not have been the most affectionate mom but she fiercely loved Rose, and would do anything to protect her. Always teaching her to be the best person she could be, she truly wanted Rose to have a better life than she had. Even though that sometimes meant she had to make certain sacrifices and admit her mistakes, in hopes that Rose could learn from them.
The healing was working now. Rose could see pink skin starting to peek through. All the people left on the beach were still, watching Rose and the miracle that was taking place. To her, the only people in the universe were her and her mom.
She started to feel strained. She had never felt this before, but it was like a deep well had always been somewhere inside her, and it was beginning to dry out.
“Come on, Mom,” she grunted. “I don't know how long I can do this.”
To Rose's great relief, her mom started to stir but Rose kept her hands right where they were. She was either going to heal her until there was nothing left to heal, or until her well went dry.
“Rose?” her mom whispered.
“Mom, I'm here,” Rose said, “you're going to be okay. I've made sure of it.”
The straining had become painful. Rose could feel it in her limbs, like her veins were being emptied. Her mom rolled onto her side and curled into the fetal position.
“Thank you,” she whispered, as a tear slid down her cheek.
Rose had to close her eyes to concentrate. She thought of all the times she had gone through weird phases and how great her mom always was about it. When she was five, she wanted to be an artist, so her mom bought her this big easel and painting supplies. They took a “Mommy & Me” painting class.
Rose turned out to be a horrible painter. She tried so hard, and did exactly what the teacher said to, but they were like big, random blobs. Her mom had quite a talent, but when she figured out Rose wasn't having fun anymore, she gently suggested swimming lessons.
Rose couldn't think of a better thing her mom could have done for her – water was a part of her soul.
Peeking out from one eye, Rose saw that her mom was almost completely healed.
Just ...
a little ...
longer ...
As her mom sat up to hug her, Rose lost her grip. The world was fuzzy. There was a tickle at her nose. Reaching up to itch it, she felt something wet. Confused, she focused on her fingers. It was blood. How odd, she thought. Mom wasn't bleeding.
Rose couldn't sit up on her own anymore. She slumped over and her mom caught her, calling to her, but Rose couldn't make out the words. They swirled toward her through a tunnel, and they echoed and morphed, becoming strange music Rose couldn't understand.
Then, for the second time that evening, the world went black.