She heard the car door.She was off the bed before she knew she was moving.The window was cold against her palms when she pressed them to the glass. The parking lot spread out below her, lit in patches by the overhead lights, and she found the car immediately — three men, a back door opening, her mother's dark hair.Mom.Something pulled in her chest, sudden and strong. She felt it move through her the way it always did when she was scared — warm and electric, building fast. Her heart was already faster. Her fingers pressed harder against the glass.She could do something. She could feel the shape of what she could do, the reach of it, her power straining toward the car. She could make them stop. She could make them confused and slow. She could make them let her mother go.She almost did it.Her breath came fast and shallow, her chest burning, her body shaking. The glass fogged under her hands. The car was still there. Mom was still there. She could reach, she could push, she could—
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