Broken Spirit Book 2: Desperate Times

Chapter Ten: Serefina

I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of events that I don't remember, like some twisted version of déjà vu. I feel my body stiffen and my eyes go dark as I attack my unsuspecting friends from behind. I hear their screams, mingled with the cries of pain and fear from innocent bystanders who were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I try to imagine what happened next, to fill in the gaps my brain won't provide. Once they realized something had happened with me, my friends had probably tried to subdue me, to protect everyone in the city, not to mention themselves. I'm filled with such revulsion for myself at knowing that they were no match for me. Not with the power of the Avatar on my side.

My last dream was a particularly bad one. It was Drake, pleading with me to stop. He was already covered in blood, some of which was smeared on my hands and the pavement beneath my feet. I don't know if he genuinely thought he could placate me, or if he was buying time for others to get away. All I know is I shot a blast of fire that would've permanently scarred his face if he hadn't ducked at the last second. And the next thing I remember is him grabbing my shoulders, yelling my name.

"Whatever this is," he said, "it isn't you. It's not real. Fight it. Come back to me."

My shoulders slackened, and he thought he'd gotten through, like my sick alter ego knew he would. He started to smile, and then I punched his already-broken nose.

I gasp and sit up, shaking uncontrollably. I draw my knees up to my chest and rock back and forth, rubbing my hands down my legs over and over to wipe off Drake's blood that isn't there. I know it isn't there, because I take special care to wash my hands every chance I get, but it doesn't matter. I can still feel the warm, sticky substance dripping between my fingers.

I recall what Drake said to me once. No one should have that much power.

And the fool I was replied: The Avatar isn't dangerous.

What a cruel lie, an impossible hope.

The chains are a huge comfort. When I feel them around my wrists and ankles, I'm reminded that I can't hurt anyone anymore. I never want to feel that way again.

This time, I was lucky, and the people I love are still alive. I don't think I'll ever be so fortunate again.

Every Fire Nation school teaches the history of its most infamous prison. The war itself may be a bit of a taboo subject, even after all this time, but any instance of our nation using a previously bad circumstance for a good purpose is mentioned at every opportunity. The Boiling Rock was originally created for prisoners of war during the Hundred Year War, and after Fire Lord Zuko and several others escaped, many assumed the prison would be shut down. However, it was given to the White Lotus as a peace offering and converted into a jail for highly dangerous criminals from all parts of the world. Any weaknesses the volcano island may have once had were eradicated long ago, and the addition of the latest technology has made it impossible to escape from.

Lucky me.

Our small plane passes through the acidic gases that surround the island and I'm grateful for the thick windows that keep out the toxic air. We land smoothly on the landing pad and I'm escorted into a holding cell until the warden can speak with me.

The small room is barely big enough for two people, with just four plain walls and a chair bolted to the floor. I wait quietly and listen as the plane takes off again. Those planes are the only way off the island, and I was repeatedly told that they're heavily guarded at all times. When they're not in use, they're taken to a facility ten to twenty miles away, which is also heavily guarded.