Before I can act I try and calm myself down, just enough to be able to think straight. I breathe in very slowly until I can’t take in any more air and then release it. I do this a few more times until I feel the muscles in my body relax. “Breathe Titus,” I mumble and he takes in shaky breaths through his cries.
I don’t even have the first clue as to how to do this, but I rise, not wanting to waste any more time. I place the small black diary into the pocket on the inside of my grey prison button-up shirt and take in another deep breath. I waited as mother had instructed and now I need to move. “Run now and mourn later,” I instruct to Titus and myself.
I lift my hand and hold it out in front of me. She said I just need to picture it. I see the caged door so I can control it. I can open it, but I feel the nerves building up inside. What if my mother was wrong? What if her visions were wrong? What if she didn’t have visions at all, and was just trying to keep me hopeful for when she was gone? I know what this prison does to people, it drives them crazy. For a second I doubt my mother and her visions, and I wonder if she had just completely lost her mind in her last minutes. I look from my shaking hand to the barred door. I clear my thoughts of doubt and just try to believe. I close my eyes and imagine the door sliding open.
“Please work,” I whisper. I slowly let my eyes open and I feel my heart drop when I see the door is still closed. “No,” my broken voice lets out. I have to get out. I stare into the barred door and squeeze my fists as tight as possible. “Move. Move. Move,” I repeat in my head over and over again. I focus harder and harder until my hands shake and my eyes water with tears of frustration, and then I see the bars start to tremble.
“Yes,” I breathe, overcome by hope. I continue to think and beg the door to move in my head, and I see it continue shaking and shaking. As the frustration and tension build inside of me I hear myself scream, “Open!” and watch as the barred door flies to the right.
I almost fall over at the release of all the tension built inside me. I did it. I exhale and can’t help but feel relief. I do have the gift. My sense of sight is enhanced so that I can control whatever I see. I am a Force Lifter.
The second this thought crosses my mind I’m hit by another wave of panic. I won’t only be wanted as an escaping prisoner, but also as one of the gifted. King Renon forces everyone with a gift to work directly under him. I can’t get caught. My heart starts to quicken at the thought of the guards catching me and turning me into King Renon crosses my mind. Images of how my mother may have died flash in my head. I won’t let her death be for nothing. I turn to Titus who sits frozen on the mattress.
“Run now, and mourn later,” I instruct him again and help him to his feet. “Time to go Titus.”
“Addie, how’d you do that?” Titus asks, but I don’t answer because I don’t know.
I grab his hand and drag him from the cell. I begin to turn right to go toward the only entrance and exit I know of, but Titus begins to pull my hand left and toward the disposal room.
“No, that’s the wrong way Titus,” I say, but he shakes his head hard.
“Mother is in there. We need to save her too.” His words crawl across my skin.
“Oh Titus,” I say softly and kneel in front of him. Even though nerves and anxiety run through me I try to deliver my words as calmly as I can. “Mother is dead Titus.” His face sets in a stone line. “Today was Parting Day and they took her.” I can see his eyes shifting. His brain knows what happened, but he’s trying to deny it.
“No Adaline,” he says, getting my name right. That’s how I know he’s serious.
“Come with me, Titus. She wants us to go now.” Titus gives one more glance over his shoulder, down the hall toward the disposal room. After a second he takes my hand and we move toward the exit. I just have to picture it. I can do this. It’s just like I’ve dreamed about every night for as long as I can remember.
Out of the corner of my eye, I look in the cells of other families. At first, they all look shocked, especially when they don’t see a guard with us. Then, they start pleading for help. When I don’t offer any they start screaming, “Guards! Guards!” Usually, the prison is filled with guards, but on Parting day there are only ever two.
The two guards turn around the corner, swords pulled and ready to attack. In my head, I try to command the guards’ swords to move away from their hands, but it’s not that easy. The swords start shaking in their hands and I watch as the guards try to use both hands to steady them. I look around the room at other things to control, but everything in the dungeon starts shaking. Stones in the walls and
