I hiss in pain as the windowsill scrapes one of my bruises, clenching my teeth and resisting the urge to swear. It's not like this is my first time going out my window, but the stuffed backpack would've made it way more awkward than normal even if it weren't for everything else. At least it's just bruises. I don't know what I would've done if that fucker had actually managed to crack a rib or something. It hurts, but not so bad that I can't keep my mouth shut, and that's the important thing. I'm sure they don't know how much practice I've had sneaking out, they would've been way more careful otherwise, but they've never had a reason to pay attention before, either.

  It takes longer than I want, but eventually I manage to get myself hanging from the windowsill without making too much noise. From there, it's only about a four foot drop down to the ground. I land harder than I'm used to, the backpack is heavy with all the shit I've crammed into it, but I manage not to twist my ankle or anything. For a moment, I stand there, looking back up. I haven't left myself any way back inside this time. I'm committed, now. There's no way to close the window, either, so they'll know what I did. But as long as they don't find out until morning, I don't give a shit. Now that I'm out, the thought of ever going back in is almost enough to make me puke.

  The only thing left to do now is turn and start walking away. There's no need to pay attention to where I'm going; I've made this walk so many times I could probably do it in my sleep. There's no real need to stay alert, either, since the poorest neighborhood I'll pass through still has a two-car garage on every house. That means there's unfortunately nothing to distract me from my own thoughts.

  Complacency. That's the word for my colossal fuckup. I learned the importance of keeping secrets a long time ago, but when you keep a secret long enough, it starts feeling normal. The thing about secrets is that there's no middle ground; you either get caught or you don't. There's no warnings, no minor consequences to let you know you're getting sloppy. Not until you get a little too sloppy, and then all the consequences hit you all at once.

  I got too good at keeping secrets, too good at playing the perfect little Christian daughter. Everyone was so proud of me, so pleased with the way I'd "matured." I let myself forget that I wasn't the only one wearing a mask. I pretended to be the daughter they wanted, and they pretended to be decent fucking human beings. When my mask fell off, so did theirs.

  The worst part isn't the bruises, or the gnawing fear of what the fuck I'm going to do now, or even the pain of rejection that I'm pissed at myself for even feeling. The worst part is the guilt, because my fuckup didn't just ruin my own life. And it's my fuckup, even though I know Emily will tell me not to blame myself. Of the two of us, I was always the one pushing boundaries, daring her to go further. My stomach is roiling with the anxiety of not knowing what her parents have done to her, if they've hurt her, maybe even worse than mine hurt me.

  It's not a long walk, barely half an hour, but it feels a lot longer. Still, the sight of Emily's house makes me feel a little bit better, even though my anxiety also spikes. Unlike my room, hers is on the first floor, making it easy to sneak around the side of the house and quietly tap on her window. The blinds raise after just a few seconds, and there she is. Already, I feel myself relaxing a little, even though it's too dark to see really anything.

  She unlocks the window and slides it open. "Jesus, Gabby!" she whispers. "Are you crazy? If anyone catches you over here-"

  "It's fine. They didn't," I whisper back. "Are you…" I swallow. "Are you okay?"

  "I-" She looks away. "No, of course I'm not okay. How could I be okay right now?"

  I close my eyes. "I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm so, so sorry. I should've been more careful, I should've-" I take a deep breath, cutting myself off. There'll be time to beat myself up later, right now she needs me. "How bad is it? Does it feel like anything's broken? Any pain that feels like it's getting worse?"

  "What?" she asks, sound confused. "What do you- Are you asking if my parents hit me? Of course they didn't- Gabby, did- did your parents… Did they actually hurt you?"

  I let out a tiny breath of relief. She's alright, thank god. "I'm okay, it wasn't too bad. Just a few bruises. They'll heal up in a few days."

  "No! No, it's not okay!" she whispers furiously. "That's horrible! Even now! Have they… done this before?"

  "...Not for a long time. And never this bad before."

  "I thought you said it wasn't too bad!"

  "It's not, I'm a lot tougher than I was back then."

  "That doesn't make it okay! I… Why didn't you ever say anything?"

  I shrug uncomfortably. "I guess I just kind of assumed you knew what it meant, when parents got angry. And eventually you helped me figure out how to stop making them angry, so it didn't matter anymore."

  "Oh, Gabby," she sighs. I hope she'll open the window screen and let me in, but she doesn't. "That's… You should, like, go to the police or something."

  Just seeing her get righteously offended on my behalf helps a lot, honestly. I smile even as I shake my head. "The cops would probably just believe whatever my parents told them. You know we've had Officer Johnson over for dinner, he'd vouch for what an upstanding couple they are along with the rest of the church. Then they'd make me go back, and that's one thing I'm never fucking doing."

  "You're… Are you… running away?" she asks hesitantly.

  "Seemed like the thing to do. I was… I was kind of hoping you'd want to come with me."

  "I…" She looks away again. "Where will you go?"

  "I've got a few ideas." None of them are really great, but they’re all better than the alternative. "It's… It's not gonna be easy, but we could figure it out. And… Wouldn't it be nice to not need to sneak around anymore? Hold hands in public, kiss without caring about who's watching?"

  She's silent for a long time. I don't try and rush her. Even if she's always been happy to mostly follow my lead, I'm asking a lot more than I ever have before. I'm glad her parents turned out to be better than mine, but that means she's got more to lose. I won't blame her if she'd rather stay, even if it'll make it a lot harder for us to see each other.

  "Gabby…" she says eventually. "What if… what if they're right?"

  I blink. "What if who's right?"

  "Pastor Michaels, my parents, Bryan… everyone! What if we really have been sinning all this time? I… I don't want to go to Hell, Gabby, and I don't want you to go to Hell either!"

  "Fuck that!" I snarl, barely remembering to keep my voice down. "What the fuck do they know about anything? Maybe I wasn't the best student in Sunday school, but I still remember all the stuff Jesus said about loving people. Do you feel particularly loved right now? Cause I sure as fuck don't." I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Listen, Ems. Nothing's changed, not about this. It's still like we said before. Nothing that feels as right as being with you can be a sin. Doesn't Pastor Michaels always talk about inviting God into your heart? But then as soon your heart tells you something he doesn't like, he turns around and tells you to only listen to him instead. They're just a bunch of hypocrites, don't let them get to you!"

  "But how do you know? How are you so sure you know better than them? I'm scared, Gabby. I… I don't know what to think anymore. I tried to make them understand, but Pastor Michaels said I'd been tricked, I was listening to Satan instead of God, and Mom won't even look at me, like I'm something disgusting, and I just… I just don't want to risk it!"

  No, this is all wrong, this isn't how it's supposed to go! Everything's spiraling out of control, and I desperately try to find the words to set it right again. "They don't love us, Ems. Maybe they love some girls who look like us, some idea of us they have in their head, but that's not us. I love you, all of you. You're perfect the way you are, the way God made you. You don't have to chop pieces of yourself off just to make them happy!"

  "Gabby… I know you don't really believe anymore," she says quietly, and a spear of ice goes through my heart. "I've known for a while, I just… didn't want to admit it. Do you really care about what God wants? Or just what you want?"

  "Ems, I-" The words I need aren't there. I can't deny it, I won't lie to her, and she'd know anyway. I can't appeal to what god would want again, she'll know it's disingenuous. And how can I try and convince her to give it up as well, when I just accused the church of trying to make her cut off the pieces of herself they didn't like?

  "I need some time," she says eventually. "I want you to be right, I really do, but I can't just believe you when you don't really believe it yourself. And… I think you need some time, too. I'm so, so sorry I never realized how bad things were for you at home, or how bad they could get. It's horrible, and you deserve to be angry about it, but… Try not to blame God, okay? Try and give Him another chance. There's lots of churches out there, I'm sure there's one you could stay at who wouldn't tell your parents where you are. God will make it up to you, if you let Him. And if you are right, I'm sure He'll guide us back together again."

  I manage to keep it together a few more seconds. "...Yeah. Okay. I- Goodbye, Ems. I love you."

  "...I love you too, Gabby. Please be safe."

  I can't keep it together anymore, so I run. I can barely see where I'm going through the tears, it doesn't matter as long as it's not here. I run until my legs start shaking, then I walk until my thoughts start catching up to me, and then I run some more. I trip, go sprawling on the sidewalk, scrape my elbow. The pain barely even registers, even helps distract from the infinitely worse pain inside. I get up and keep going.

  Eventually, I find myself slumped exhausted on a swing in a playground somewhere. I don't know how long it's been, or what part of town I'm in. I should really be looking for a safe place to sleep, but I just can't quite make myself care. My insides feel like they've been replaced with an empty pit. Emily and I have been friends almost as far back as I can remember, way before the thought of dating ever crossed either of our minds. She was always there for me, the only one who was always there for me, the one whose shoulder I'd cry into after my parents screamed at me for asking a question I wasn't supposed to. Now she's just… gone. I could've lost an arm and still felt less like I was missing an essential part of myself.

  I'd always assumed that if and when she was forced to pick between me and the church, she'd pick me. No, assume isn't even a strong enough word; I'd known she would always pick me with the same certainty I knew the sun would rise in a few hours. Apparently, I'd been fooling myself. Could I have done something different? Pushed her harder, forced her to confront what they thought about people like us? It's an utterly useless train of thought, but I can't stop my mind from following the tracks in a circle over and over again.

  

  My spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a railroad spike abruptly being hammered into my brain. "Fuck!" I yell, grabbing my head in sudden agony. The pain thankfully fades after only a few seconds. The sensation of otherness lasts longer. My brain is too small to hold whatever was just crammed into it; only bits and pieces are left, barely comprehensible. My mind interprets it as best it can. I'm struck with a memory from when I was little, of looking at an icecream cone covered with rainbow sparkles and desperately hoping I'd be allowed to have one. I know with disturbing certainty that I'm the icecream cone.

  I look up. There's an anime girl floating a few feet in front of me. She's wearing a poofy pink and white dress and a little tiara with a heart in the center, and her hair is pink as well. Looking at her is distinctly uncomfortable; something about the perspective is just wrong, as though she's not fully three dimensional. She's like a sketch someone drew on a photo, except the photo is the real world. My heart is suddenly hammering in my chest. There's absolutely zero doubt who, or maybe what, she is.

  A cat is sitting on the girl's shoulder, white with a pink heart collar. Unlike the girl, he's properly three dimensional. I focus on him, trying to ignore the way the shoulder he's sitting on doesn't actually have any depth. Thankfully, he quickly hops down and approaches me.

  "...No, I'm alright," I reply hesitantly. I can hear the words clearly, but I can tell they're not actually sound; they just appear in my head without any sense of direction.

  

  Even though I'm expecting the words, they still hit me like a truck. How many times have I fantasized about this, knowing it would never happen? One in twenty thousand, that's the best estimate for how many people get the offer. I was secretly disappointed a few months ago on my sixteenth birthday, thirteen through fifteen being the most common age range for new magicals. But it's a much more intimidating prospect now that it's suddenly right in front of me. "Can I… can I ask some questions?"

  

  I take a deep breath. "Virgo doesn't really eat memories, right?"

  

  "But she's always watching?"

  

  "Why?" I ask. I can't stop myself. Everyone has a theory, and it's nearly impossible to tell which rumors might have a real basis. "Why does she want our experiences? And why… this?" I gesture to the pair of them.

  

  "Jesus," I mutter. "So it really is a cosmic toddler and her babysitter handing out magic powers. And we're just her toys."

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  

  I glance back up at Virgo, just for a moment. She's still just floating there staring at me, although I'm not sure if floating is really the right word. Floating implies physical motion. She's less like an object and more like… a glitch in reality, a hole in the world where something outside poked a finger through. Or maybe a tentacle. A tentacle shaped like a cute anime girl. I shake my head. "There aren't any other sneaky catches here, right? I'm not selling her my soul or anything?" It's not like I'll know if he lies, but I ask anyway.

  

  So no asking for more time to think about it, then. I take another deep breath, and let it out slowly. The general sketchiness of the situation isn't the only reason why I'm hesitating. A handful of religious sects have declared magical girls and boys divine or even outright worship them, but the majority are much less friendly. Particularly, evangelical churches in the US almost uniformly brand magic as demonic possession. Emily doesn't hate magicals the way a lot of people do, she doesn't have it in her to hate anyone like that, but that's a long way from approval. It's one of the few subjects we ever seriously argued about, before eventually agreeing to just not talk about it anymore. Neither of us really thought it would ever actually matter.

  If I do this, our chances of ever getting back together sink from unlikely to borderline impossible. It isn't too late to do what she asked instead. There's bound to be plenty of nice liberal churches in Franklin that don't mind gay people. I could go find one of them, spill my heart out to the pastor, maybe find a way to get Emily to talk to him as well. Maybe that would be enough to convince her. Maybe, maybe, maybe. All it would take is a little faith that things will work out… and the risk of a lifetime of regret if they don't. Or I can have the thing I've been dreaming of for years, and the certainty that I will be able to make a new life for myself, one way or the other.

  I sniffle a few times, wipe my eyes, and whisper, "Sorry, Ems." Then I look up, steel myself, and nod. "I'm in. Do it."

   says Arcturus. He hops back up onto Virgo's shoulder, and she extends her hand, the motion reinforcing the fundamental wrongness of her form.

  She's holding something, a crystal sphere the size of a large marble. It hurts to look at even more than the rest of her. The insides are flickering with colors and shapes, like there's thousands and thousands of different marbles all overlapping with each other. Pushing past the last of my hesitation, I reach out and take it.

  

  This time, there's no pain. Instead, her words blast me straight out of my body. I'm floating in a void. Vague colors and indistinct shapes surround me in every direction, unfathomably far away. My body is indistinct too, sort of a three-dimensional silhouette made of white light. I can somehow feel the light starting to condense, solidifying into what will become my costume, and I instinctively take charge of the process as much as I'm able.

  The color scheme is fixed. Apparently my magic is achromatic; I can do black, white, silver, and nothing else. It really wants me in a skirt, no surprise, although I feel like that's something I can change if I care enough. I decide it's fine, but I keep it reasonable, nothing excessively poofy or ruffly like Virgo's dress. Next are stockings, and seized by a sudden urge, I push it towards thigh-high boots instead, with just a little bit of heel. The costume is still fairly simple, close to the classic magical girl look. I can stop here if I want, but my magic is pushing me to go further, distinguish myself more. A jacket, maybe? No, a full coat, a long one. And I need a mask, of course, but I keep it plain.

  I finish pulling my arm back, blinking as I suddenly find myself back in my body without any time apparently having passed. My talisman has changed, though, settled. It's turned black, with a glimmering spark of pale white light in its heart. My arm has changed, too. Instead of the gray hoodie I was wearing before, my sleeve is now soft black leather.

   says Arcturus.

  "...Yeah," I agree after a second, my mind still whirling with the realization that holy shit this is actually happening I'm an actual fucking magical girl holy shit!

  An image appears next to them, and it takes me a moment to realize that I'm looking at myself. I'm wearing a white blouse with a fancy dark grey vest over it, with embroidered edges and silver buttons down the middle. It's fairly tight and form-fitting, but with a high collar that doesn't show any skin. The matching dark grey skirt, on the other hand, leaves a good six inches of skin showing between the tops of the sleek, black leather boots. If this were a normal outfit I'd be worried about flashing someone if the wind picked up, but it's a magical girl costume; if I don't want it to, it won't. Over the whole thing is a long black coat that hangs all the way down to my knees, flaring out almost like a cape.

  My mask is smooth silver, slightly reflective. It completely covers the top half of my face, leaving only my eyes, mouth, and chin exposed. I normally wear my hair down, but now it's been put up in an elegant bun, held together with a silver pin. After a moment, I decide it looks good, and it'll make me harder to recognize as well. Honestly, I barely even recognize myself.

  

  That doesn't seem like very useful advice, but I shrug and give it a try. To my surprise, all I have to do is want it to happen, and it does. My talisman dissolves into white light, expanding into a rod. This time, I don't have any control over the process; my weapon is an intrinsic part of my magic, fixed. It solidifies after a few seconds, and I find myself holding a staff, around five feet long from base to tip. It's fairly simple, a black rod a little less than an inch thick with a silver point on the bottom. On the top, my talisman has expanded into an orb three or four inches across, set in a trio of silver crescents. It's… I mean, it's pretty fucking cool if I'm being honest, but there's no obvious way to actually use it as a weapon aside from just whacking people with it, so I'm probably still missing something.

  I try and figure it out on my own before I ask for help. Like Arcturus said, all magicals are given instincts on how to use their weapon and their magic. I don't think about it too hard, I just do what feels natural and thrust the staff forwards like a spear. A blade springs out from the orb at the top, more than a foot long and clearly magical. It's thin, with a pitch black core edged by a white glow. I hold it up and turn it, examining it from different angles, then experimentally swing it at the chain of the swing I'd been sitting on. It cuts straight through the metal with no noticeable resistance. Shit. Whoops. Well, better I learn that lesson now than later, with something more important.

  "Is that my magic?" I ask after a moment.

  

  I nod, deciding to use the swing, since I already busted it anyway. Again, I try and just do whatever feels natural. Letting the spear blade fade away, I wave my staff in the general direction of the swing and will something to happen. The orb glows brighter, geometric shapes and symbols that remind me a little of complicated math flickering inside. The swing… swings. No, not quite; it swings out away from me, but then stops and settles at an angle instead of swinging back towards me. I frown. "Some kind of telekinesis?"

   says Arcturus, sounding rather pleased. Slightly mystified, I do as instructed, the process once again coming to me instinctively. The swing floats upwards, coming to a stop a few feet above its normal resting place. Shrugging, I lean down and pick up a wood chip, then toss it forwards towards the swing. It keeps moving forwards, but it's pulled upwards as well, into a much higher arc than I originally threw. The effect seems to end after a few feet, and it flies off and eventually falls back to the ground.

  Gravity manipulation. "Holy shit," I breath quietly. I've never even heard of a gravity manipulator before, although there's no reason I would have if they were in like Africa or something. "Can I… can I use it on myself?"

  

  "Oh. Okay." I glance at Virgo, but don't see any sign of restlessness from her unsettling form. "Will you be back?"

  

  Her words hurt less than before; apparently, my brain is tougher than it was a few minutes ago. "...Thanks? I think?" I answer nervously.

  

  And then they're gone, vanished like they'd never been there at all. I just stand there for a few seconds, then walk over to the next unbroken swing and sink down onto it. I stay there for a while, just… processing. The life I had yesterday is gone, obliterated beyond any hope of repair. There's still an empty pit inside me where Emily used to be, and magic isn't enough to fill it. Right now, I'm not sure if anything ever will be. But I'm not spiraling anymore. Nothing can stop me from building myself a new life, a better life, at least in some ways. I don't know exactly what it'll look like yet, but there's only one way to find out.

  Firming up my resolve, I stand again. Then I raise my staff and unleash my magic. It's easier, now that I actually understand what I'm doing. My region of modified gravity can cover around seven or eight feet. I can move it around however I want, adjust its strength and direction. I spend ten or fifteen minutes practicing to get used to my new instincts, sending a big pile of woodchips zooming around the park. It comes naturally even though it's trickier than it looks; I have to adjust the field before I actually want the object's direction to change. Still, I feel like I'm only scratching the surface of what my magic is capable of. My new instincts only give me competence. I'll have to earn mastery on my own.

  Feeling more confident, I move on to the real test, the important test. I take a deep breath, and then create a region of altered gravity around myself. I let out a small shriek of surprise as my stomach tries to crawl out of my mouth, flailing around as I float upwards. My magic breaks along with my concentration, and I land on my ass. I stand, blushing furiously. Right, I'm not actually flying, I'm just falling up, and that means it'll feel like falling. At least no one saw me humiliate myself… Except for Virgo, because she's apparently always watching through my own eyes, now. Christ. I remind myself that she's too alien to understand things like embarrassment, and then resolve to try and just not think about it going forwards.

  My second attempt goes much better. Now that I'm prepared for it, I find the feeling of weightlessness really doesn't bother me much at all. It's even kind of fun. I adjust my field carefully, moving it with me as I rise into the air, and then… and then…

  …And then I'm fucking flying, and it's every bit as amazing as I'd always dreamed it would be. A laugh bubbles out of my chest, and I don't even try to stop it as I go soaring over the rooftops. How fast am I going? As fast as a car on the freeway, easy, but the wind just glides right over me, feeling like nothing more than a gentle breeze. I throw myself into loop-de-loops, figure eights, barrel rolls, and then I shoot up, way way up until the entire city is spread out beneath me. I hover there, probably a mile above the ground, and stare down at the glittering lights. It's beautiful and amazing and bittersweet, because I can't help but wish I could share this moment with Emily. If I could somehow make her feel the way I feel right now, she'd have to agree that magic couldn't be all bad. Part of me wants to try, wants to fly straight back to her house and gush about how incredible this is, but I know it would end badly.

  I cross my legs like I'm sitting on thin air. It's peaceful up here, with nothing but the wind and the stars for company, looking almost close enough to touch. Ursa Major and Minor are clearly visible, and I follow Ursa Major’s tail until I find the bright star Arcturus, overlooking Virgo near the horizon. What made them choose those names, I wonder? What do they call themselves in different cultures, with different constellations? I wish I could've found a way to fit my astronomy book in my backpack when I left.

  I take a deep breath of the crisp air, then let it out. My mind feels clearer than it has since that awful moment this morning. There are decisions I need to make, both short-term and long-term. I'd had some ideas when I left. Most of them probably hadn't been great, but I hadn't run away with no plans at all. There's some sort of LGBT center downtown, with signs promising help for minors. I've never been inside, just noticed it in passing, but that'd been my first thought for where to go, especially if Emily had decided to come with me. With the way things actually turned out, it sounds much less appealing.

  But I have more options than charity now. Magicals are a valuable commodity, maybe even the valuable commodity. Since middle school, every year we've had to sit through a presentation on ABRA and the amazing benefits they offer; high five-figure salaries even for minors, guaranteed acceptance to any university in the nation with a full-ride scholarship, and that's just for signing up as a guinea pig for their research. The actual white masks who work with law enforcement get an even sweeter deal, not to mention the magicals who sign on with big corporations. On the other side of the law, the black masks who dominate virtually all organized crime live like princes, even the low-ranking ones.

  The smart thing to do would be to sign up with someone. There is an ABRA office here in Franklin, although it's just a few rooms in the main police station, not one of the major regional headquarters hosting a strike team. The white masks evicted Umbra and her gang the Nightstalkers from the city a year and a half ago, but more black masks have been creeping in to fill the vacuum. Surf 'n Turf is a new gang founded by a duo, Barracuda and Obsidian, who came to Franklin a couple of months apart and forged an alliance. The Columbia Syndicate has been moving into town as well, and three murders in the past six months have been blamed on conflict between the two. Any of those groups would probably be delighted to have me, and maybe after I've spent more time thinking it over, I'll decide to join one of them after all. Right now, though, I can't stand even the thought of putting myself under someone else's thumb again.

  The problem is, even if it's not illegal just to be a magical anymore, you're still required to register with ABRA before you can legally use magic for basically anything. Right now, I couldn't even get a job as simple as moving heavy shit around for the scrapyard or something, not unless they want feds crawling up their ass within the week. Just registering doesn't come with any extra obligations and ABRA supposedly takes information security very seriously, but it can't be taken back, either. Once I register, the government will know who I am forever. And it really wasn't very long ago that the de facto policy towards magicals in most of the country was "shoot first, ask questions never." Just because the government decriminalized magicals doesn't mean they're anywhere close to trusting us.

  Also, registering does nothing to solve my immediate problem of not having anywhere to sleep tonight. I took a little money with me when I left, but not enough for a room even at the cheapest motel in town. There's really only one way I could possibly get more money right now, immediately. So the real question is, do I want to go try and find a homeless shelter that will take in a teenage girl in the middle of the night, and also isn't too sketchy? Or do I want to rob someone? Even if I got caught emptying the cash register of some store or something, ABRA hands out pardons like candy on halloween for non-violent offenders, because their number one priority is to stop magicals from becoming violent offenders. It's not like my decision right now has to commit me to a life of crime. Still, it feels like whichever way I go, it'll be easier to keep going that way.

  The first thing I think of, of course, is Emily. For her, it wouldn't even be a question. She'd never rob some random undeserving person, or even a big soulless chain store, no matter how desperate the circumstances. I've already made one choice that would disappoint her tonight; immediately compounding it with a second feels wrong even if it'll never actually matter. Maybe if I could find a deserving target, a drug den or something, but I have no idea how-

  Ah. I know exactly where at least one deserving target is. Emily would still hate it, of course, but… They hurt her too, in some ways even worse than they hurt me. I won't forgive that, no matter how she feels about it. Besides, maybe she wouldn't even hate it that much. After all, what are tithes for, if not alms for the poor? I hesitate for a minute longer, debating whether or not I really want to commit. But now that I really stop and think about it, I realize that under everything I've felt tonight, fear, despair, even joy… I'm fucking pissed. How dare those bastards ruin the best thing I had in my life, the one thing that always kept me going through all the other shit they put me through? Maybe this revenge is petty, but if it'll help me dig my way out of some of the other shit they piled on me, I'll take it anyway.

  I've obviously never seen the city from this angle before, but it isn't too hard to orient myself. I start flying northwest, getting lower as I go, following major streets until I start recognizing familiar landmarks. Again, I'm amazed by how fast I can move, crossing half the city in just a couple of minutes; since I'm constantly accelerating, I'm not sure if I even have an upper speed limit. I remember how excited I was when I got my driver's license, but I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to go back to driving after this.

  North Franklin Church of Grace is a large church but not a huge one, seating a little more than five hundred. It's a traditional church, with a tall bell tower that even has a real, actual bell in it. The windows in the top of the steeple are latched, but for some strange reason, no one thought to actually lock them. I land carefully on a convenient ledge, making sure I'm balanced before dropping my magic. Then, I create a new, much smaller region of altered gravity around the latch, jiggling it back and forth until it opens. Can I control more than one region at once? Definitely something to try, but later.

  I open the unlatched window and let myself in. Just for fun, I don't even bother walking down the narrow stairs, floating down the gap in the middle of the bell tower instead. The door at the bottom is unlocked as well; I listen carefully for a minute to make sure no one is here before I open it. From there, it's a short walk down the dark hall to Pastor Michaels' office. This door is locked, with a deadbolt. After a moment of thought, I create a region on the far side of the lock where gravity loops around in a circle. The more complicated pattern is harder to control, but it's so small that it doesn't really matter. A second later, the lock clicks open.

  I step into the dark office, noticing that I don't have any trouble seeing even though the only light is from the street outside. It's a room I have quite a few memories of, none of them good. I only ever ended up here after my parents had already spent an hour or two screaming at me over whatever stupid thing they'd decided was "disrespectful" or "ungodly" that day. I haven't been in here for a few years, not since I finally figured out how to say only what they wanted to hear and nothing else, but the safe is still in the wall where I remember it.

  It's a newer safe, with an electronic combination lock. Part of me wants to just slash the thing open. Part of me wants to cut the entire church to pieces, until the whole building comes tumbling down. I push the urge away. Every couple of months, there'll be some new magical who goes on a rampage the moment they get powers. Those types never last long, and I have no intention of being one of them. Right now, the best revenge I can take is making it look like the safe was opened by someone who knew the combination. That'll keep their suspicions pointed at each other, rather than at someone capable of cleanly slicing through solid steel.

  Inspired by my previous tricks, I start randomly messing with gravity inside the lock mechanism while tugging on the handle. Surprisingly, it pops open in just a few seconds. Experimentally pushing the bar that actually keeps it locked a couple of times, I realize that it's just held in place by magnets or something and moves easily. Honestly, it's like people don't even expect to be robbed by gravity manipulators.

  The contents of the safe are much more interesting. I wasn't sure how much money would be in here; I don't know how often they take their donations to the bank, but it can't be every week or there wouldn't be any point in having a safe at all. Thick wads of bills bound by rubber bands are sorted into neat stacks by denomination, a good couple dozen of them. More than half of the wads are just ones, and most of the rest are fives, but there are a couple wads of tens and one of twenties, plus a few loose fifties. All in all, it's got to be close to two grand.

  As expected, when I drop my transformation I find myself back in the jeans and hoodie I was wearing before, with my backpack still on my back. I open it and cram the money in wherever I can, manage to zip it back up without breaking the zipper, then put it back on and transform again. There's no out-of-body experience this time, just a wave of white light that passes over me and sends my regular clothes to whatever dimension they're stored in, along with my backpack and the money inside. Then I head out, making sure to relock everything behind me.

  I'd wondered if I'd feel different after committing my first crime. As I fly away, all I feel is mildly satisfied. And also tired. Probably not nearly as tired as I should be after the day I've had, but even if my limits have expanded, they still exist. Thinking for a moment, I head towards the east end of town, near the interstate. I know there's a strip of motels there, mainly for truckers. They probably won't be very nice, but they'll be cheap, and hopefully the kind of place that'll accept obviously sketchy walk-ins in the middle of the night without asking awkward questions.

  I pick a motel that says it rents rooms by the hour, landing in the dark parking lot out back and dropping my transformation, putting my talisman in my pocket. I take a moment to root through my backpack, pulling out a few tens and a couple of twenties and stuffing them in my pocket as well. Then I walk around front and into the lobby. The middle-aged woman behind the desk barely glances away from the TV as I approach. "How much to rent a room for, like, ten hours?" I ask.

  "Fifty for a single," she says. "In advance." I pull three tens and a twenty out of my pocket, passing them over. She glances at them, then works the register for a moment and puts them inside. "Smoking or non?"

  "Non."

  She fishes a key out from under the desk and passes it over. "Room 218. Checkout time for you is 1pm. Don't make a mess, or we'll call the cops."

  I shrug and take the key, walking away without responding; she goes back to her show. I find my room without any trouble. It smells faintly of cigarette smoke anyway, with stained walls and a carpet that's definitely seen better days. I check the bed; thankfully, it looks like they've at least changed the sheets since the last time anyone fucked in it.

  Taking my backpack off, I sink down onto the bed. The cheap digital clock on the nightstand reads 3:06am. My exhaustion is definitely catching up with me now, maybe because I'm not transformed anymore. Deciding to shower tomorrow, I root around in my backpack until I find the pair of pajamas I packed. I don't always wear them, especially in summer, but I definitely want full body coverage in this bed.

  Before I change, I pull my talisman out of my pocket. As soon as I touch it, a bit of creeping unease that I hadn't even noticed vanishes. It's well known that magicals can't transform without their talisman. Apparently that means direct skin contact; even having it in my pocket isn't enough. Carrying it around all the time is gonna get really awkward, though. Maybe I can set it in a bracelet or something? I barely even have to think it before my talisman vanishes, reappearing in the center of a silver bracelet around my wrist. Huh. Damn, magic really is the best.

  I change, turn out the lights, and crawl into bed. Laying in the dark, unfamiliar room, listening to trucks going by on the interstate outside, I wonder where I'll be sleeping a month from now, or a year. I wonder if I'll ever see Emily again. I wonder if she'll hate me if I do. Eventually, I wonder myself to sleep.