During a life-changing moment, the world falls into the realm of liminality. It’s as if every minute stretches to an eternity, the clock’s second hand makes an infinite number of full rotations yet the minute hand remains still. There was a before, but you can’t imagine there being an after. If life was a movie, that moment is where the credits should start rolling.

But that’s not how reality functions. After bringing Ashen down from the roof, resisting the primal fury raging within me to send him falling to his death, I turned him into the police who were already there. But when they wanted to question me, I ran off. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was the agony that devoured me inside. Whatever it was, they never got a statement from me beyond what I recounted about the situation.

As I hid away from the commotion, the sounds of ambulance sirens seemed to bounce off the falling rain, following me like a ghost haunting a victim. Had my heart been more durable or my mind stronger, I could have followed the ambulance to the hospital and checked on Carrie. But it felt like my will was a frayed rope, one tug of bad news away from splitting apart.

I ran back to the roof and surveyed the damage. Bloodied puddles, cracked floors, shattered remotes and a lifeless arm lay on the ground. I crept up to my own arm and crouched over it, like a child looking at ants. The stillness frightened me- it was my arm after all. I poked at it, prodded at it, nothing. No feelings, it was cold to the touch. I haven’t been cold to the touch since I got my powers.

‘We grow limbs back.’ There was finally room to ask.

‘Yes, indeed. I never told you this?’

‘No. Why didn’t you?’ It wasn’t accusatory, I just needed to know.

The rain started to slow down, the tears from the sky becoming more and more infrequent as though tragedy was over, and there were no more tears left to shed.

‘I’d never want to see you deliberately hurt yourself like that. Even if it meant a form of… accelerated healing. That’s why… I did it.’

I picked my own arm up. The blood had dried. Like a knight picking up their chipped sword after a battle, I took it with me and went home. I wanted to strip off my scales and take the bus, I had enough superhuman activity for the night as is, but realised I couldn’t do that with my arm in tow. So, I scurried home on foot, jumping across unscathed rooftops and alongside the origami traffic from my vantage point.

My senses were still riding off the high from the rooftop, I couldn’t make them go back to normal. It was as though the wind that ran against my body was somehow conspiring against me, whispering wicked words into my ear. I couldn’t stop tasting my breath, its putrid flavour eliciting a cough from me here and there.

As practised as an acrobats routine, I got myself back into my room through the window. Shrouded in darkness, I sat on my bed exhausted. I could make out my parents breathing in their room through the deafeningly loud ticking of the grandfather’s clock. Gor was in his university dorm, leaving me the only person awake at this hour. At first I found it a blessing that my parents were such early sleepers and my brother was away when I got my powers, it meant infinitely more freedom to do as I pleased. Now, I wonder if maybe I needed that cage around me to prevent the cataclysm I invoked onto my friends.

Against my own will, I collapsed onto the bed, anticipating tears to roll out of my eyes and stain my pillow as it has done many times in my life. But this time, nothing came out. The usual stinging ache of sorrow was replaced by a new feeling of numbness, as if my heart itself was paralysed, incapable of feeling.

My own room now didn’t sit right with me. It was too pristine, too perfect. Stuffed toys too neatly arranged on the bed, the only light source being the moon’s soft glow tip-toeing through my window to spotlight me. I could feel the softness of my cotton bedsheet, the residue smell of smoke that had clung onto my body which was osmosising into the atmosphere of my room.

‘They’ll find the arm.’ Sol spoke, as we cradled our scar.

‘No, they won’t.’ I said, sitting back up right and walking away from my bed.

Sol sighed. I could feel a nod-like sensation. We both knew what I was to do. I walked out of the window, up the wall and onto the roof. There, I sat down on the drying floor.

With a small contained force of will, my palm set ablaze, burning the arm that sat inside it slowly. It was like watching an ice cube melt in the sun. A small glow of light which illuminates the abyss of night in the palm of my hand, burning the arm that knew love. That knew tenderness. Reduced to ash in the wind by the hand that was made and forged in battle.

‘You need to rest.’

In a daze, I went back to my room. I wanted to talk to Sol, scream in terror, cry and languish in agony with regards to the unspeakable horrors we endured tonight. But I had lost all energy to speak, as did they. Not wanting to bother them, I wished them a goodnight and tried my best to fall asleep. They replied with the same, melancholy coating every word spoken.

I transformed back into Rose. The privilege of my own bed and cool air on my skin rather than charred flesh and a hospital bed felt undeserving. Those were my final thoughts as I sank into a slumber for the night.

The next morning, I awoke with sleep paralysis. It’s not a particularly new feeling, but it's one I haven’t had the displeasure of facing in a long time. To struggle to open your eyes as if they were being pried down by pincers, the mutiny of being prisoner in your own body. I tried to turn and move but was chained down into one position. I screamed, I cried, I yelled. But nobody came. No hero for me. It never even occurred in my mind that I could change out into the Salamander to break free of my body’s own curse. From the corner of my eyes that I could not see, I spotted an overbearing shadowy figure. They were dark, turned darker some more, and despite being coated in absolute darkness, they turned darker.

I felt my lungs constrict itself, my anxiety strangling me. Fear made my mouth dry, eradicated all sense of logic and sense in my brain, leaving me with nothing but a frail mind that was led by instincts rather than thought. I felt the figure approach me. Dark, darker, and then somehow even darker. Then, they slammed on me. The weight was suffocating. I choked. I tried to push them off, but my arms went limp.

I woke up.

My fists were on fire, ignited in my nightmare. Panting, I buried my face in my hands, horrified at the prospect of being alive, that last night wasn’t a dream. Despite literally shoving my hands into fire, I felt nothing. I’d probably continue feeling nothing for a while now.

As I attempted to leave for school, I saw Ma and Pa sitting at the dining table, murmuring until they saw my dishevelled face. I think they attempted to talk to me about Carissa. Word spreads fast, after all. But I’m not quite sure, since I listened to none of what they said. I didn’t need to relive the worst moment of my life. I whispered some non-sequiturs and ignored them when they asked if I was okay, or if I wanted to stay home. With a weak smile, I told them I would deal with it and left for school, too weak to have fury or sadness.

I barely made it to school on time, taking the bus despite already being late. I was no more than a shell of a person that whole day. Not surprisingly, last night’s disaster was all anyone wanted to talk about, considering the terrorist was from our school and so was the primary victim. People in group projects with Ashen or who have played tennis with him horrified that they were in the same group as him. People were looking and asking me about Carissa, if I knew anything. I had no heart to answer.

Normal school chatter turned to police investigations and questioning. I know Zhen Rong and I got quite a few questions for being a part of the friend group where half of us were involved in the situation. Well, more accurately, three quarters of us.

At the assembly hall, during the national anthem which was noticeably louder, Ms Tnee pulled me aside.

“Are you alright, Rose?” She asked with concern dripping from her voice.

I didn’t know how to answer. It may be one of the first few times she’s asked a question I couldn’t immediately answer.

“Sorry… that’s probably not a good question to ask. I know she was your best friend. I always saw you two around…. Is Zhen Rong okay?”

The questions were barely audible through the mist in my mind and the blaring anthem. I nodded.

Sensing nothing could get through to me, Ms Tnee let me go back to my seat, giving me a firm hug. I didn’t intend to, nor was I ready to, but I cried. I cried deeply and desperately into her dri-fit shirt. The floodgates had opened and I was ruining her clothes and making a fool out of myself, but I wasn’t reprimanded. Instead she just hugged me tighter. I don’t think I’ve been this weak or vulnerable in a long time.

“What do I do?” I wept into her chest.

“Nothing. You don’t need to do anything. Just let go.”

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For the rest of the day, I’ll never forget the looks other students were giving me. They reeked of pity and fear, some people vaguely familiar with us had the gall to walk up and try to get information out of us in order to get some additional gossip to talk about with their friends. So much for “be respectful to the parties involved” like they told us to do in assembly. The empty space between me and acquaintances who normally sit beside me at the lunch table and the hushed talks behind my back only I can hear with my senses served to alienate me further.

Throughout the day, I was bombarded by messages from Christopher, making sure I was okay and sending me all the love he could possibly send through text messages sent in lectures.

“You know how I feel about him, but I’m glad he was there for your friend. I’m glad you’re okay too. Let me know if I can help. Love you.”

His last message read, my heart glowed with warmth. It was nice to know he was truly, for once in his life, finally on my side again. Even if he didn’t necessarily know it- I just needed some support. I’m woefully unprepared for the storm of hateful vitriol that has definitely been spit my way online- so I’m trying my best to avoid it where possible.

But you can’t avoid the people in real life like you can online. After school, Zhen Rong pulled me aside near the running track. He looked dishevelled, likely dealing with a typhoon of questions about Ashen and Carissa himself. The worst part is he has nothing to do with all of this, he’s the only one purely in the dark and it pains me that I have to hide… everything from him.

“Are you going to go visit Carissa?” He asks quietly, looking around to make sure no one is eavesdropping. Any time someone approached, a quick glare from me sent them packing. I had to look like a hag at this point.

“Yeah. Of course… She’s- she’s my best friend, I will. Do you know anything about Ashen?” I feigned the same unawareness he had. I had to keep up the act.

He shook his head solemnly.

“He could have hurt so many people… no, he did. He could have done so much with his life… he could make… bombs and go toe to toe with… y’know, the Salamander. He just… I don’t even know what this is. I’ve been friends with a psychopath for years and I never did anything about it. I… I don’t know, Rosie.” He was on the verge of tears by now, and then finally broke down into a meltdown like I had never seen before. Mucus leaked out of his nose and tears wouldn’t stop, the heaving and panting was as though he had just run. I never want to hear those sounds from his mouth ever again.

“It’s not your fault okay, Zhen Rong? Don’t even think about that, his actions are not your responsibility.” I tried comforting, smiling through the pain. He rubs his eyes, drying the tears before they can even come out of his eyes.

“Maybe not, but I could have done more. Or what if I could have saved Carissa? Or what if he went to hurt you and I couldn’t have stopped it? Fuck man, I don’t even wanna think about it.” The sentences he uttered were almost incomprehensible, as if grief were muffling his mouth to the point of being incoherent.

Our conversation is interrupted by the sounds of yelling in the football field, courtesy of athletes enjoying their day. Students walk by gossiping and enjoying life as regular teenagers, viewing the previous night’s events as if it was the hot new movie on the market. Some stop to look at Zhen Rong, but I shoo them away. When I look at them and juxtapose them to myself, it’s oddly isolating. Like only Zhen Rong and I exist in a reality where tragedy occurred the night before.

Wiping his tears, Zhen Rong composed himself and spoke with newfound confidence.

“Ok, I’ll cut the act. I know you’re the Salamander, dude…” He suddenly confronted, eyes bloodshot red from tears as he let the tears roll down his cheek. I nearly choked on my spit.

“Yeah. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I know.” He said matter-of-factly, mustering up a weak smile as if he had found out about my silly crushes I had, not as if he knew my superhero alter ego.

I bit my tongue, not knowing how to respond.

‘I see no point in lying to him.’ Sol reasoned. He clearly knew. He wasn’t making a guess. It makes sense that the people closest to me would know who I am while the rest of the world struggles to figure it out.

“When’d you find out?” I asked, more curious than anything. He tilted his head downwards, lost in thought, and finally surfaced when he had a satisfactory answer.

“You suddenly outran me. That didn’t help your secret identity.” He chuckled, and I once again mentally kicked myself for not hiding my powers better upon getting them. First it makes a psychopath out of a friend, and now this. All because I wanted a childish ego boost, like my actions had no consequence.

“But honestly, you’ve changed ever since reports of the Salamander first came out. You’re just like… more vibrant. And more secretive. Like, I know you’re in the drama club and all… but you’re not that good at acting.” He chuckled, embarrassed to be making light of the situation at all. I clenched my fist, nails digging into my palm.

“You started dressing in far brighter colours whenever we hung outside. Like, you didn’t always wear this much pastel pink but now you do. Something about that was… weird. I don’t know, it’s like you weren’t the same. So, uh, I guess it only made sense for it to be you.”

No point in lying.“Does Carissa know?” I asked quietly.

“No. I once brought it up to her and she brushed it off. I didn’t press on any further though, I didn’t think you’d want her to know. And I think… she would have wanted to hear it from your mouth.” He put his hand on my shoulder and our eyes met. I’m not sure if I was capable of communicating it, but I wanted him to know how thankful I was that he didn’t make Carissa know.

“So, what now?” I asked, not sure why he wanted me to know that he knew.

“I just… wanted that on the table. I want you to know you don’t have to hide anything from me, okay? I don’t… I know you try your best.” He sighed, taking a breather to compose his thoughts and try to figure out his next few words.

“But you should have called the police or something. You shouldn’t have taken this into your hands alone. Especially if you knew ahead of time what he was going to do. You’re… still a vigilante, Rosie... You’re gonna get in trouble one day if you’re caught and- no one wants that. Especially when like… you’re doing the right thing. And… I don’t know. You’re one person, they’ve got teams of experts who could have diffused the bombs or whatever and caught… him.” He said that last word with venom and disgust, as if the thought of uttering his name would trigger his gag reflex.

I couldn’t think of a good counter-argument that made perfect, logical sense. Maybe he’s right. Sol and I were intimately discussing it in our heads, but we kept arguing in circles. Obviously for a crime like this it makes sense to get law enforcement involved. But…

“I have to help. Because if I don’t, and this result happens anyways, then that’s on me. Because if I have the power, I have to help.” I whispered trying to convince all three of us rather than just him.

“You could have worked with them if you thought so. You wanted to be a superhero, but that’s not realistic, man. People could have died last night… you could have died last night.” I thought about the result of Carissa suffocating to death in her living room. I imagined a world where I phone the police and they laugh at me for being ridiculous and hysterical.

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t- couldn’t get anyone involved. Who would even… believe me? And I didn’t wanna… put everyone else at risk. Everyone I loved, I mean. I put… a lot… yeah. I don’t know.”

“I don’t want you at risk!”

“I can handle it fine- it-”

“It what? Worked out?! Because your best friend is comatose, mine is probably going to be given a very particular sentence and I don’t even know what injuries you could have sustained… I… I’m so helpless. I couldn’t help- you didn’t even tell me. I don’t care that I could have been at risk…. I just needed to help you and bring him to justice… why didn’t you trust me with that?”

I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t immediately ruin our relationship.

“I-I do trust you. But I can’t have you… in danger if Ashen knew. If he hurt you I couldn’t forgive myself…”

“And you think I can?” Zhen Rong asked with blatant pain and betrayal in his voice.

“I… I had to protect you. You’re more… more important than justice… I can’t risk your life to bring him to justice…”

He sighed and walked off, not even saying goodbye. And I knew for fact that was the end of us. Zhen Rong kept his head locked to the floor, maybe in disappointment, maybe in fury. Whatever it was, those were the answers he didn’t want to hear.

Watching him walk away, I found no urge in me to chase him, to tell him to wait up or even explain myself to him. There was no need to do that anymore.

‘We- you, did the right thing with the information you had.’ Sol says, words comforting me like a mental massage.

‘...life is more important than justice, right? I..is that still right… did we… no, did I do the right thing, Sol?’

‘We do the best we can. To me, you preserved both.’’ They lamented, my eyes shifting downwards in a soft sadness, averting a gaze that wasn’t there. I gently rubbed the heart around my neck and walked off, trailing behind the last friend I had left.