before I blacked out.
I see the bed I’m on, my torso lying over the duvet, and the nightstand to my left, but surrounding me is a giant ball of water, blurring out everything on the other side. It’s like a bubble. No water on the inside, none on the outside, though the water flows as though it’s alive—a wave—encapsulating me.
I don’t recall creating this sphere, but it had to be me. Water doesn’t act like this naturally.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I swivel my head in the opposite direction. Captain Barton stands casually on the other side, staring in on me. I raise my arms and concentrate on breaking the water molecules and evaporating them so he can come through and not get wet. I assume that’s what he’s waiting for. Why else would he be here? I’ve evaporated water a million times, and it’s easy. Except this time, I can’t do it. Nothing happens.
“What’s going on?” I say, examining my hands. If Barton heard me, he doesn’t answer.
Bringing the wall down will create a mess, but what other choice do I have? I focus on the water. Focus on becoming one with it. Then I swipe my palm across the air, expecting the water to crash down into a puddle on the floor.
Nothing.
Strange.
“Captain, can you hear me?” I holler.
Again, he doesn’t respond, and for a moment I wonder if I’m dreaming. That maybe I haven’t woken up yet. But this isn’t what I dream about; I’m not in a dark coffin that’s sinking into the depths of the ocean.
Nope. This is real. This is happening.
I slip off the bed and walk toward him. His gaze remains on me, and I’m sure he regrets his choice to bring me aboard. So far, all I’ve done is cause trouble.
“Why am I in here? What happened?” I ask.
Barton touches the water wall, but as soon as his fingers hit, a small wave throws his arm back. He shakes his head instead of speaking.
He can’t hear me.
“The water is protecting me,” I mutter, theorizing the only possible answer. “It won’t let anyone in, unless …”
I repeat Barton’s action, pressing my fingertips against the wall. Instead of throwing me back, the water separates and lets my fingers glide through to the other side.
Barton glances down, and I retract my arm. I’m not surprised it’s completely dry. I step forward to simply walk through since apparently the wall seems okay with me breaking the barrier, but when I press my body against it, a wave bursts and pushes me back.
What the hell?
I study the bubble for a second and an idea comes to me: if the water won’t let me out and it won’t let Barton in of his own action, will it allow him entrance if I’m the one opening the door? It works with my water-protecting-me theory.
With both palms outward, I slip the tips of my fingers through the wall again and separate the water like a curtain. My protector obeys, giving a small passageway into my bubble.
“Come in,” I say cautiously.
Barton moves forward, examining the opening. Another step and he’s inside the doorway. Then he grins as he walks inside. Once he’s through, the wall seals closed. “Nice digs.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I sit back down on my bed. “I wish I understood why I’m in inside said nice digs.”
“You passed out during training two days ago. As soon as we picked you up to bring you to the infirmary, this balloon began to form around you. We barely got you in bed before it expanded and pushed us all out.”
“Wait. Two days?” I’ve lost two whole days?
Barton nods.
I shake my head in disbelief. That amount of time is normal had I lost control of my powers, but I hadn’t … had I? “And the ocean? Other water, has it … been fine?”
He points above us. “This is it. My only guess is that it formed from the air. Can you tell?”
“Um…” I close my eyes and hold my hand up in the air. Silently, I will a drop of water to come down to me. When I feel the wetness, I compel it to absorb into my skin. Then I open my eyes. “Yes.
I see the bed I’m on, my torso lying over the duvet, and the nightstand to my left, but surrounding me is a giant ball of water, blurring out everything on the other side. It’s like a bubble. No water on the inside, none on the outside, though the water flows as though it’s alive—a wave—encapsulating me.
I don’t recall creating this sphere, but it had to be me. Water doesn’t act like this naturally.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I swivel my head in the opposite direction. Captain Barton stands casually on the other side, staring in on me. I raise my arms and concentrate on breaking the water molecules and evaporating them so he can come through and not get wet. I assume that’s what he’s waiting for. Why else would he be here? I’ve evaporated water a million times, and it’s easy. Except this time, I can’t do it. Nothing happens.
“What’s going on?” I say, examining my hands. If Barton heard me, he doesn’t answer.
Bringing the wall down will create a mess, but what other choice do I have? I focus on the water. Focus on becoming one with it. Then I swipe my palm across the air, expecting the water to crash down into a puddle on the floor.
Nothing.
Strange.
“Captain, can you hear me?” I holler.
Again, he doesn’t respond, and for a moment I wonder if I’m dreaming. That maybe I haven’t woken up yet. But this isn’t what I dream about; I’m not in a dark coffin that’s sinking into the depths of the ocean.
Nope. This is real. This is happening.
I slip off the bed and walk toward him. His gaze remains on me, and I’m sure he regrets his choice to bring me aboard. So far, all I’ve done is cause trouble.
“Why am I in here? What happened?” I ask.
Barton touches the water wall, but as soon as his fingers hit, a small wave throws his arm back. He shakes his head instead of speaking.
He can’t hear me.
“The water is protecting me,” I mutter, theorizing the only possible answer. “It won’t let anyone in, unless …”
I repeat Barton’s action, pressing my fingertips against the wall. Instead of throwing me back, the water separates and lets my fingers glide through to the other side.
Barton glances down, and I retract my arm. I’m not surprised it’s completely dry. I step forward to simply walk through since apparently the wall seems okay with me breaking the barrier, but when I press my body against it, a wave bursts and pushes me back.
What the hell?
I study the bubble for a second and an idea comes to me: if the water won’t let me out and it won’t let Barton in of his own action, will it allow him entrance if I’m the one opening the door? It works with my water-protecting-me theory.
With both palms outward, I slip the tips of my fingers through the wall again and separate the water like a curtain. My protector obeys, giving a small passageway into my bubble.
“Come in,” I say cautiously.
Barton moves forward, examining the opening. Another step and he’s inside the doorway. Then he grins as he walks inside. Once he’s through, the wall seals closed. “Nice digs.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I sit back down on my bed. “I wish I understood why I’m in inside said nice digs.”
“You passed out during training two days ago. As soon as we picked you up to bring you to the infirmary, this balloon began to form around you. We barely got you in bed before it expanded and pushed us all out.”
“Wait. Two days?” I’ve lost two whole days?
Barton nods.
I shake my head in disbelief. That amount of time is normal had I lost control of my powers, but I hadn’t … had I? “And the ocean? Other water, has it … been fine?”
He points above us. “This is it. My only guess is that it formed from the air. Can you tell?”
“Um…” I close my eyes and hold my hand up in the air. Silently, I will a drop of water to come down to me. When I feel the wetness, I compel it to absorb into my skin. Then I open my eyes. “Yes.
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