POWER MANIACS (girlxgirlxgirl)

48. Back to the beginning

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⚠️ mentions of death, kidnapping, self suicidal thoughts ⚠️

"Thanks again!"

Waving at the rusty truck, Dahlia watches it splash over the puddles in the asphalt and drum away along the roads. Her legs feel a little wobbly after hours of sitting in that uncomfortable, old car. It bounced at every small rock and bump in the road. But it was better than walking, and honestly a miracle that they agreed to drive her all the way to the capital in the first place. Farmers are really nice, especially old couples like them. Especially, especially when she offered them the last bit of money she had in her account, writing them a check for fifty.

It's going to be worth it, Dahlia thinks. To spend all her money on this and not worry about the future.

Because if she fails, she's not going back. No way. She's not going back to anything, except maybe death.

So, despite the fact that it doesn't have to be, this is very much a life or death situation right now.

Dahlia sighs as the car finally disappears from view. She's been riding on nothing but luck, this far. But from now on she's going to have to use a bit of her powers, too. Testbunny-ing, herself, to be precise. Turning around, she faces the tall factory building in front of her, grimacing at the familiar sight. Covered in city dirt, the night darkness and the ugly rain from the muggy clouds above, the old brick building looks everything but inviting. Thankfully, though, Dahlia is not here because she was invited. She is here to reap her final sow.

Pretending to be minding her own business, she keeps her head low, face covered by her long strands of black hair, and approaches the empty building. It's late evening and everyone must've gone home already. The business might be a little sketchy but they operate mostly during the day, so Dahlia has nothing to worry about. She can easily get through the unlocked metal fence and avoid the deep puddles of water that have formed on the asphalted yard around the building. Finally, she reaches one of the back doors after skilfully avoiding some of the few and only security cameras around.

This is where her powers come into play. She has no idea exactly how they work yet, which is why her hopes are up in the skies.

People may think they know this or that about telekinesis or what that means, but truthfully nobody knows how it actually works. It's all made up, anyway. Until her own powers came into the picture, of course. And so far she seems to have the ability to communicate with people through channels in her own mind, including things like nature and animals. She feels some sort of connection to everything. That should somehow include locks too, right? Dahlia hopes so. It's a dumb guess but once she puts her hand on the door and really concentrates, it feels like it's working.

Or maybe the door wasn't locked properly from the beginning.

Either way the door opens, just like that, leaving nothing but a startlingly loud creak behind it. Dahlia doesn't waste any time. She gets past the open door and rushes through the factory that she has basically lived in for the past four or five years. It's easy to know the way. She rushes past a large warehouse full of packages in brown boxes, and large wooden crates with postal stamps all over them. Her feet sound loudly against the floor but Dahlia doesn't worry. There are no cameras and no alarm systems here. It's too dangerous, since most of the business is illegal, and they definitely don't pay the right amount of taxes either. Getting the police involved with anything is dangerous for Dahlia's old bosses. She knows that, and that's the reason she can easily run through the warehouse and into the storage room on the second floor without being caught.

The benefits of working for an illegal company are finally paying into her hands. Dahlia almost smiles. Perhaps she thought too harshly of this place.

She opens the door to the upper management office and immediately finds the large closet on the left side of the wall. There, in piles and piles, lay dusting old uniforms in their disgustingly yellowish white color. Dahlia rips out a shirt, a pair of pants, a blue cap that matches the whole uniform and a company issued mask. One by one she changes her clothes, relieved to get rid of the sweaty and dirty fabric that was clinging to her body, but still doing it with utmost haste. Once she has dressed up, she closes the door to the closet and takes one look into the mirror.