surrounding lighting and subject movement. I could extract, develop, apply fixer, and stabilize film in a pitch black dark room in record time. But for all my life experiences, I had no insight in how to escape handcuffs. Perhaps that should have been a required course in high school; home economics, physical education, escapology. Central High School – cultivating criminals and magicians alike.
I made a futile attempt at rummaging in the drawers of the bedside table with my toes, feeling for a key. After working up a sizeable horse cramp in my leg I gave up. Short of dislocating my thumb, physically forcing myself out of the situation was not an option.
Not everyone reacts to the elements like you do, Kaitlyn. I should say rather, interacts with the elements. Cato’s words resonated with me.
I could obviously affect wind and rain. Last night had proved that several times over. But could I control the temperature? If the handcuffs were cold enough, frozen over, I could shatter them. The first trick was figuring out how to do it. The next trick would be figuring out how to do it without giving my wrist frostbite.
I shrugged, "No time like the present."
Closing my eyes, I recalled my mother’s meditation sessions. I breathed in and out slowly, clearing my mind and forcing my muscles to relax. I called upon the air to cool itself. Nothing happened. Maybe I need more energy? I tried drawing out energy from the earth below me. I found it at a much lower frequency than air or water, but it was done easily enough. I released the energy into the air simultaneously willing it to turn cold. Still nothing. I glanced at the bathroom door. I needed to hurry. Micah could be finished any moment.
Repressing the urge to panic, I thought back to high school science classes. Hot air is caused by active and fast moving air particles; cold air the opposite. Instead of closing my eyes, I left them opened and concentrated on the space around me. I called the earth’s energy into my body once again and used it to sharpen my senses. Soon enough, the composition of the air was revealed and the particles slowed, conforming to my will. The temperature of the room chilled. I could see my own breath. But it still wasn’t cold enough and I didn’t want to freeze myself in the process. A larger but more concentrated jolt of cold air was necessary.
I refocused my energy and sent waves out with ten times the intensity. Something definitely happened, but it was misdirected. I felt the air interacting with a large amount of water that lay well away from me. Focusing even harder, I tried again, trading some intensity for accuracy. My efforts emitted a high-pitched squeal from the shower. I stifled a laugh. It was similar to my dad’s yelp while in the shower at our New Jersey home when mom snuck in to flush the toilet.
I had missed the mark again but was significantly closer. I quickly released the energy lest Micah know what I was up to. With pressure mounting, I had to follow through and fast. Third time’s a charm. Working out the correct balance of intensity and accuracy, I was finally able to hit my mark and I felt the metal around my wrist turn cold, so cold the skin touching the metal actually burned. I gritted my teeth, putting forth my best effort to endure the pain and kept the cold coming.
Waiting until I could bear it no longer, I finally slammed my wrist against the headboard. On the first attempt, the metal shattered into tiny slivers that made a satisfying noise as they hit the wall behind me and scattered on the bed and floor below.
I barely took notice of the atmosphere regaining balance, righting itself once free of my energy waves. The squeak of the shower faucet turning off told me I had little time left. I bolted for the door and skid through a turn, racing down the long hallway. The largest swaths of natural light guided me
I made a futile attempt at rummaging in the drawers of the bedside table with my toes, feeling for a key. After working up a sizeable horse cramp in my leg I gave up. Short of dislocating my thumb, physically forcing myself out of the situation was not an option.
Not everyone reacts to the elements like you do, Kaitlyn. I should say rather, interacts with the elements. Cato’s words resonated with me.
I could obviously affect wind and rain. Last night had proved that several times over. But could I control the temperature? If the handcuffs were cold enough, frozen over, I could shatter them. The first trick was figuring out how to do it. The next trick would be figuring out how to do it without giving my wrist frostbite.
I shrugged, "No time like the present."
Closing my eyes, I recalled my mother’s meditation sessions. I breathed in and out slowly, clearing my mind and forcing my muscles to relax. I called upon the air to cool itself. Nothing happened. Maybe I need more energy? I tried drawing out energy from the earth below me. I found it at a much lower frequency than air or water, but it was done easily enough. I released the energy into the air simultaneously willing it to turn cold. Still nothing. I glanced at the bathroom door. I needed to hurry. Micah could be finished any moment.
Repressing the urge to panic, I thought back to high school science classes. Hot air is caused by active and fast moving air particles; cold air the opposite. Instead of closing my eyes, I left them opened and concentrated on the space around me. I called the earth’s energy into my body once again and used it to sharpen my senses. Soon enough, the composition of the air was revealed and the particles slowed, conforming to my will. The temperature of the room chilled. I could see my own breath. But it still wasn’t cold enough and I didn’t want to freeze myself in the process. A larger but more concentrated jolt of cold air was necessary.
I refocused my energy and sent waves out with ten times the intensity. Something definitely happened, but it was misdirected. I felt the air interacting with a large amount of water that lay well away from me. Focusing even harder, I tried again, trading some intensity for accuracy. My efforts emitted a high-pitched squeal from the shower. I stifled a laugh. It was similar to my dad’s yelp while in the shower at our New Jersey home when mom snuck in to flush the toilet.
I had missed the mark again but was significantly closer. I quickly released the energy lest Micah know what I was up to. With pressure mounting, I had to follow through and fast. Third time’s a charm. Working out the correct balance of intensity and accuracy, I was finally able to hit my mark and I felt the metal around my wrist turn cold, so cold the skin touching the metal actually burned. I gritted my teeth, putting forth my best effort to endure the pain and kept the cold coming.
Waiting until I could bear it no longer, I finally slammed my wrist against the headboard. On the first attempt, the metal shattered into tiny slivers that made a satisfying noise as they hit the wall behind me and scattered on the bed and floor below.
I barely took notice of the atmosphere regaining balance, righting itself once free of my energy waves. The squeak of the shower faucet turning off told me I had little time left. I bolted for the door and skid through a turn, racing down the long hallway. The largest swaths of natural light guided me
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