It’s been a while since I’ve visited the hospital. But last time it wasn’t alone.

It’s not a bête noire, but the inevitability that one day I’d be visiting the hospital alone always disturbed me, like a looming shadow expanding until it swallows light whole. The idea that I’d have to look at my loved one's face their own mortality frightens me, like watching a rollercoaster slowly ascend before the drop. I assumed the first time I’d do it, I’d be visiting Ma or Pa, bringing them their favourite food and checking in after a procedure that comes naturally with age. Presumably, it’d be an event I’m prepared for and even expecting, part and parcel of living.

Instead, I’m visiting my comatose best friend eighteen years into her life.

At the school foyer, Carissa had her own tribute, with the lives she touched and coloured paying due respects. She was always mousey and introverted, yet everyone had some form of positive interaction with her. Whether it was helping out with homework or giving everyone Valentine’s chocolate, she was a tiny flash of light for those around her. The choir sang in her honour and wrote cards for her, celebrating the ripples of kindness she had unknowingly sent through everyone.

I think of how she managed to rope me into beach cleanups and how heartfelt she was giving me the necklace and I know I was the one touched by her the most.

Which is why it hurts to know I’m the reason she’s hospitalised, and why I can’t just visit a tribute in school and call it a day. I have to see her.

With a bouquet of roses in hand, I open the door to her ward and see Mr Adams instead, standing over Carissa, arms folded.

My heart skips a beat. It’s him. His face was a far cry from the fear and gratitude apparent when I saved him that fateful day, instead laced with pensiveness. His disappointment was palpable as he left his own set of flowers on the bedside of Carissa, though I was unsure as to what he was disappointed about.

“You’re…”

“Hello, Rose. I… hope you’re well.” He started with a tone that suggested a smile, despite none being on his face.

“Y-yeah. What are you…”

“I’m here to pay my… respects to the girl hurt by my… my son.” Mr. Adams explained, not even wanting to say his name. For the first time, I noticed his shoulders were broad like Ashens and he had his icy blue eyes.

I froze, unsure of what to say.

“That boy…” Mr. Adams trailed off, looking out the window. I felt his heat rise and something awoke in me, triggering me to stand ready for combat. If he made any sudden move, I may have attacked on the spot. My mouth was dry as I struggled to conjure up anything to say to him.

“Her parents were here too, I’m not- not the only one here. If you want to uh, see them.” He said as if covering up for something, not wanting to seem strange for visiting the victim of his son.

“How are you… Mr. Adams?” I asked nervously, finally noticing the bags under his eyes.

“I’m okay, Rose. Quite frankly, disappointed in that… child. I can’t believe he would do something like that.” He spoke vaguely and shakily, like how one would talk about a case of bullying their child was involved in and not domestic terrorism. I guess no parent is ready to talk about something like that.

“Do you… know why he did all this?”

“No. I have no idea why he would turn out like this.” He said painfully serious, unaware of the harm he’s been inflicting onto his own kid. I noticed his arms were big, and felt myself grow queasy knowing the strength he had when attacking Ashen.

“I… see.” The man didn’t seem that heartbroken about his own child, flesh and blood, becoming a monster as a result of his own mistreatment. It’s a surprise he even came out to visit Carissa. My breath became hollow. If this man was dead, Carissa would be fine. Everything would be fine.

But I saved him. Him standing here unsympathetic to his own son, likely being here to keep up appearances in his social circles… all because I let him live. What if Ashen was right, what if…

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Mr. Adams spoke as he walked past me, wind blowing by. The door closed behind me, and he was out of my life. I didn’t know what to do, whether to chase him down and yell at him for ruining my life or to ask him more questions, interrogate his guilt or if he even had any. But my feet remained frozen to the ground, a snake coiling itself around my ankles preventing me from moving. Instead, I’m left to meet with my unconscious friend.

Carissa’s been hospitalised since last night, and this is the first I’ve seen her since carrying her out of that sea of orange that threatened to engulf her life. She’s changed into a medical gown, but I’ve been told she hasn’t moved ever since getting here. The room is in complete silence save for the heart monitor beeping rhythmically, a constant reminder that she’s alive. As long as that machine keeps beating, I can stay sane.

I put the bouquet of roses down on her desk, the fragrance and its bright red petals injecting life into the room. Like a guardian angel sent to protect her, I sat next to and watched her carefully.

There’s a burning desire to say something but I’m not sure what- I just want to fill the silence with noise I suppose. As I’ve been conditioned to do in silence, I pull out my phone and check it briefly. The news story about Ashen has been picked up everywhere, sparking even international reactions.

And as of now, the consequences of his actions have caught up to him. There will be a trial. There will be justice. Whatever happens to him, whether I agree with the result or not, is a result of judicial practice and follows the law. They are allowed to make the decisions I can’t and won’t. I’m not sure if he will have to face the death penalty or lifetime incarceration or if he will, by some divine intervention, get off lighter, but that’s not my job to decide. I can’t be the one bringing him to justice. All I can do is preserve human life.

Online, the discussion is rampant. Over terrorism. Over the law. The fear in the people that it’s their homes next. The anger on behalf of the victim, the tears shed at the shattering illusion of safety and comfort. The uncertainty of my existence in this society, and whether this was a good thing or not. Maybe if I never existed it would have never led to this drastic of a scenario. Maybe it really is all my fault. Or maybe he would have gone on a rampage even without me around. Maybe some other incident would have set him off.

But there’s no point debating a hypothetical scenario. The concrete result of my actions are in front of me.

No one’s comfortable with the validity of vigilantism in our world. I don’t think I am either. I think maybe if I kept these abilities to myself, if I had kept myself in check instead of ever going down the path of the hero, that life would be simpler. If I had hid who I was from everyone, that I’d have an easier time. I’m invested in drama, in books, and every day I think about how much easier it’d be to make up the character of Rose and pretend to be her every day of my life instead of allowing myself to be who I am.

There are groups of people vehemently against my existence, calling for me to be caught and tested and tried just like Ashen will be, while some are grateful for my existence. Those people think I’m a hero, that I should be allowed to keep working because that night’s incident would have been much worse without me.

It’s hard to read criticism and hate, but the undeserved praise hurts. Especially with evidence of my failure in front of me.

I put down the phone, put down the thoughts, and held her hand. I hold it tight, as if I were to let go she’d die. She’s as beautiful as ever, as innocent and wonderful as ever. I can’t help myself from using the back of my palm to stroke her cheek. Upon contact with her face, the tears have already began to leak. There are noticeable scars and I wince when my hand comes in contact, as if her pain is mine.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me, Carrie.” I began to speak, sniffling in the middle of sentences. My voice cracks, squeaking at moments where I’m trying to blurt out a sentence. “But you’re so strong, and amazing. You’re going to save the world someday. In a way I could only dream of accomplishing. You have so much ahead of you in life, so much hope left to give people. That’s the best thing you do, Carissa. So…”

I pause to wipe my own tears, nervous I might start bawling in the ward. I clutch the heart around my neck and take a deep breath again to compose myself.

“Please stay with me. You make me so hopeful. You make me think there’s a place for me in the world. That I can actually make a difference in the world. A good difference. I try every day to live up to the expectations you have of the Salamander. I try every day to save everyone because I know you’d do the same.” My eyes blink hard and I take a deep inhale as I struggle to continue forming coherent sentences.

“What I’m trying to say- what we are trying to say is that you are the greatest light in our lives, you make us want to push a little harder to save who we can. Sol, uh, my alien parasite living on my neck, because I never told you, has always looked up to you too. You’re amazing. You always see the best in people and always think people can be saved. I don’t know what I can say or do to ever make it up to you. I’m so, so sorry you’re hurt because of me.” The last words take a monumental amount of effort to whimper out as I begin unapologetically crying on her hospital gown, staining it completely and drenching it.

My words are not a superpower, they are not special. They’re honest, but being genuine doesn’t wake her up. It’s not a movie. I don’t know when she will. The fragrance of roses in the air has died down. The sterile room’s vibe has come back in full force to remind me of Carissa’s mortality.

I decided to sit there the entire rest of the day. She still won’t wake up. I hoped to see her open her eyes again, murmur my name as she looks upon me as I wrap her in my arms and give her a hug of relief and love. But it’s all fantasy, because as far as I can tell she’s completely out of it.

‘There is nothing more you can do.’ Sol whispered to me as they made my muscles relax themselves. I wasn’t even aware they could do that. Feeling nearly sedated and emotionally drained from the events of the last two days, I thank Sol for the feedback but don’t bother to discuss this any more. I know it’s useless. I know that whether or not I’m here doesn’t change when Carissa is going to wake up. It doesn’t change when I can see her again for real. It won’t affect when we can have a cup of bubble tea together and laugh about our lives again.

I know I can’t fix everything, but I need to try to. She’d do it without ever needing to think about it. She’d save everyone and along the way she’d stumble, but she’d never let it get to her like it gets to me.

‘I have one more place I need to visit.’

With a heavy heart, I left to the only one left I could talk to. It’s both surprising and comforting that an encounter of random chance can blossom into something like this. A bus ride, sad music and a bit of time and I’m finally at the HDB flat I need to be at.

‘Blaze up, Sol.’

I scale up the building’s walls and find exactly who I thought I might find there. He smiles and waves, inviting me to sit next to him at the other edge of the roof.

“How’d you know I was coming?” I ask Gabriel, taking my seat next to him.

“Well, I saw the news. I just… ya lah, thought you might need someone to talk to. So I came out here just in case.” He gave a soft smile, and that alone may have saved my own life. To see evidence that I’m not a complete failure in front of me made all the difference.

The night was spent recounting last night, today, the feelings I had, like talking to a therapist. It was cathartic to finally be honest about me. I haven’t been able to come out and talk to anyone in a long while.

“So I take it you could be better.”

“Yeah. I could be a whole lot better. Right now, I’m almost out of friends… you’re the only one who knows all this stuff.”

“Well, you got me at least.”

“Yeah… thanks for sitting out here for me. I was sort of counting on it.”

“It’s fine lah. You were there for me, it’s only natural I’m there for you.”

We smiled and bumped fists, a strangely simple activity for a situation so fantastical. The alien salamander human hybrid and someone they saved talking together like old friends on the rooftop.

“So what happens now?”

“Well, I guess… Ashen’s gone. And I just hope Carissa’s okay.”

“And… your ex? I-I mean, your friend. He’s not just…”

I shrug.

“Don’t know. I don’t think we’re friends anymore. I can’t blame him…”

“And what’ll you do?”

I pause for a bit. The thought hasn’t crossed my mind.

“Are you gonna… keep going?”

I bite my lip. It seems foolish to continue going on as the Salamander. I’m gonna be hunted down, living my life in fear forever. Is it even worth all that?

“Well, I don’t want to… uh, act like I know more lah. But I know you at least saved me. And uh, I’m grateful lah. Really. And that helped Nanay. And tons of other people weren’t hurt because of you lah. At the beach, at Lucky Plaza… even the guy’s dad. And that has to count for something. If you keep doing this, I think… everyone will be safer.”

That short speech gave me an emotional catharsis I didn't even know I was craving. As if spilling my heart to a trusted confidant wasn’t good enough. I look up to the crescent moon above, admiring its beauty in the sea of black above. I wish I could see the stars in spite of the light pollution, but the moon still looks wonderful alone.

Maybe that’s what it’s about- shining in darkness, being a beacon whenever I can.

“Thank you. It… means the world to have someone think of me like that.”

“Don’t mention it.” Gabriel chuckled, getting up and getting ready to go back to his home. “I know I’m not the only one either.”

And then we parted, with a small shimmer of hope in my heart. Everything I was able to confess to Carissa and say to Gabriel ignited a hope in my heart, that was perhaps foolish, but if I let it be extinguished then Ashen wins. So I can’t- I have to keep going, and share this warmth with others.

‘And he is right. Many think of you as a hero. I know I do, Rose.’ Sol said as we jumped from roof to roof, heading back in Salamander form, flipping around and enjoying the night breeze blowing by me even after a heavy day.

‘Thank you, Sol. You’re the best partner I could ask for.’ I smile properly for the first time in a while, maybe I could still do good. Maybe there’s hope still. After all, the world keeps spinning. The grandfather clock keeps ticking. Life goes on, and I have to as well. I have to keep the memories in my heart and use them to fuel my future. Perhaps tonight the lonely moon shines by itself, but there’s a star in everyone waiting to be seen.

‘From here on out, we’re still gonna struggle. We’re still gonna mess up sometimes.’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it. We can protect life, so we gotta do it.’

‘Hah. Perhaps you are like the superheroes you idolised.’ Sol chuckles as they fill my heart with warmth. I thought back to the tributes everyone had for those we lost, the love people like Ms. Tnee and Gabriel and even Zhen Rong tried to share with me and wondered if that kind of genuine emotion was any less of a power than my flames.

‘Well, these powers make us super… but it’s everyone else that makes me keep being a hero.’

A shrill scream echoes in the night, my heat signature goes off as I perch myself on the edge of a roof and spot a man and woman nearby. The stench of alcohol is putrid and blatant, and the woman’s heat is rising. The fear on her face alone springs me to action without even thinking. Diving behind the woman, they both face me and his face turns as pale as a sheet. The woman’s doesn’t, and something about that fills me with some relief. Without a word, the drunkard runs off with his tail between his legs, not wanting to deal with the monster on the news. He never even managed to lay a finger on her, but the damage is still done- and I see that I do have a place in this life.

“T…thank you…” The woman whimpers, still frightened. I smile as gently as I can muster and feel her heat lower, relaxing a bit as I make some distance between us to ease her nerves. Sol and I share a warmth in our stomach, an acknowledgement that from now on this is what we’ll be doing together for a long time.

“It’s okay, ma’am. I’m the Salamander. Protecting everyone is what I do.”