CENSORED 17: FIONA

I gather my shower essentials with fear in my heart. Public washrooms are something of a nightmare for me. I found a decent shower hour at least, one a little less busy than the rest. Mornings are impossible, late evenings even worse, but just after dinner is a sweet spot I don’t dare tell anyone else about lest I lose it for myself.

The added privacy does come with a different exposure risk, however. It leaves me vulnerable to spark snatchers. While there’s been fewer of those attacks since we started handing out free meal passes, not everyone sticks to the diet program. So, I can either risk baring my porcelain or baring my sparks. Neither are great options.

I hurry down the hall, pleased when the corridor remains empty. I’ve survived the first gauntlet and steel my resolve as I push into the bathroom. There’s only one shower running at the far end. That feels like an immediate win. Except, it isn’t any kind of win. In fact, it might be worse than a bathroom full of people, because if it were full, maybe whoever was in there wouldn’t be adding another exposure potential to my risk list.

“Harder,” they smoulder.

Oh my sparks, this can’t be happening. I know that voice. It’s her voice.

“You like that?” someone rumbles gruffly.

“Yep,” she pops loudly. “Just like that.”

“How about this?” a different voice outgasses. “Beg for it.”

“Yes!” she erupts. “Please pyroclast me.”

Please, for the love of light and dark, kill me now.

There are no less than three people in that shower stall squeegeeing it up without a shred of shame. Two would be more than plenty when I prefer a firm zero.

My heart tries to claw its way out my chest right through my ears. I can’t breathe, can’t move, frozen in shock over walking in on this. My vision swims, and my wristband starts squealing a warning that rattles clear through the bathroom.

“We have an audience,” she cinders. Dark chuckles follow.

I have to get out of here, but my feet are concrete hardened to the tiles.

“There’s room for one more,” the gruff voice slags.

With maximum effort, my body finally moves, though it’s only barely complying. My wash bag gets trapped on the door handle during my escape, so I leave it there. It’s a worthy sacrifice for my freedom. I start an awkward run back toward my room with my heart still hammering in my chest and bile rising in my throat. I will myself forward with all my might while staring down at my feet, afraid if I’m not watching them they’ll stop moving one after the other. My lack of situational awareness has me colliding full force with an unyielding brick wall.

“Slow it down, Water Lily,” bumbles the wall.

Snot springs from my nose. I try unsuccessfully to suck it back in before lurching forward and heaving all over the wall’s shoes.

“For light’s sake,” an extension to the wall sprays.

I gasp, bringing my hands to my throat as if that’s going to help me breathe. My earth spark is strangling me to death, the fear of the inevitable overload washing away any lingering embarrassment having caused the elevated level in the first place. I’m in crisis.

“Frank!” the wall extension whitecaps, snapping them out of the daze I’ve trapped them in.

The wall collapses around me, folding me into its strength. When they lift a hand to cup the back of my neck, I tense at the contact, so they gentle their grip. I peer up through tear-soaked lashes and see the Earth Registry Guard from my morning class. His extension is Luke. Luke called him Frank.

“I won’t hurt you,” Frank vibrates softly. “Let me in.”

Everything I’ve experienced thus far tells me I shouldn’t listen. Wielders lie. They just want me to open my china cabinet so they can ransack my porcelain. Yet, the tone of this wielder’s voice tells a different story. The gentle way he holds me close tells a different story. He wants to help me, not hurt me. He’s going to save me.

I stop resisting, and the instant I do, the suffocating weight of my earth spark starts to ease off. Luke’s finger grazes my cheek, but he doesn’t take a single drop of my water spark, just checks if I need him to before brushing my tears away. My water spark isn’t the problem right now. The accosting element is my earth spark. For the first time since igniting, it’s a danger to me.

I gladly relinquish ownership. There’s no feeling of loss, no nagging guilt like I’ve let something be stolen from me. There’s only the release of the pressure collapsing my lungs and the freedom of my limbs from the crushing weight. The rolling wave of nausea subsides. I can breathe again, unrestricted.

My muscles loosen.

My toes uncurl.

My heart stills.

I want to stay in this moment endlessly, bask in the weightlessness, but my momentary reprieve is stolen by a set of vocal cords that only has two volumes. Barely audible with chilling resonance or ear-bleeding roar.

“Get the heck away from her!” Ainsley roars, jamming her finger in Luke’s chest. Masochistically, he leans into it.

“Or what?” Luke backwashes a clear challenge I don’t want to bear witness to, so I redirect my focus back to Frank. He’s practically beaming at me and paying no attention to them whatsoever. “Thank you, Frank,” I squeak.

He smiles so wide I can’t help but smile back. I feel lighter, free in a way that makes me want to skip down the hall.

Ainsley circles back around, smacking Luke in the face with her ponytail. “Do you need me to walk you somewhere?”

“No,” I clank, definitely not needing that. She scares me as much as the spark snatchers do.

“Where were you headed in such a hurry?” Frank pipes in, looking down at my empty hands.

“I was just...” I shake my head, too embarrassed to admit what I was running from.

“Off to the Registry?” Frank whoops, offering an excuse I eagerly latch onto.

“Yeah, I just have to grab my homework first.”

Ainsley groans at the mention like it’s the worst chore in the world. Her hair is trying to smother Luke, and he doesn’t seem to mind. She’s far too tactile. And hostile.

Frank coughs a little to get my attention again. “Can I walk with you?”

“Um, okay,” I clatter, and we start moving down the hall.

I barely make it inside my room before Ainsley starts roaring again. She’s clearly forged ahead to the bathroom. Frank has stopped in the doorway to wait for me and leans back into the hall to investigate, not bothered by the yelling, just curious. Then his green rings and white flecks turn my way again. The look on my face lets him know I know exactly what the drama is about.

“Spill it, Water Lily,” he buzzes.

My face bleeds red.

“Mmm, mmm.” He sniffs dramatically. “Sweetest flower in Scintilla.”

I scrub my hands over my face. When I look at him again, he’s still solely focused on me, but the humour has left his eyes, replaced with something that thickens the air between us. I flush again, and his lips curl up at the corners.

“Come on then.” He cuts through the tension by giving his head a little shake in the direction of the Registry. “Best get you there while there’s still good seats.”