“We’re on track,” Ashey Prime announced. “I’ve got the first thing down, and I’m already on my way to the next.”
“Without any help?” asked Ashey.
“Not as much help as I thought I’d need. I’m doing fine,” said Ashey Prime. “I can handle this.” The crowd of Asheys cheered. “Actually, I’m on my way to get more things done!” The audience went wild.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mariel asked. Ashey made a slow turn to face her aunt, who was hobbling on one foot, trying to fit her shoe. She was in a straight black dress, her hair neatly held up, with a pearl necklace around her neck. Grandma Helen was close by, also in black, a scarf draped across her shoulders.
“Where are you going?” Ashey repeated.
“We’re meeting with a priest at Kalin’s home for a cleansing ritual. And you’re coming with us.”
“Oh, no, no. I have a thing,” said Ashey. “I can’t come.”
“You weren’t coming with us because I thought you were still asleep. If you’re awake, then you’re coming with us.”
“But—”
“No buts. I don’t want to hear it—.”
“I’m going to the library. It’s really important for a school assignment.”
Mariel was stunned into silence. She exchanged a look with Helen, who stayed quiet. It wasn’t fair—they didn’t believe her.
“Kalin died in service for you,” said Mariel. “The least you can do is show him some gratitude.”
“And I will. At the funeral. But I really, really need to go right now.”
“What do you have in your bag?” Helen asked, nudging her chin toward Ashey’s side. Ashey clutched her bag tighter, leaning back.
“Nothing,” she said, wetting her big round eyes. “Grandma, please let me go. I promise Kalin would understand. He used to take me to the library all the time. This is my way of honouring him.”
“Oh, please,” said Mariel. “Get back to your room and put on something nice.”
It wasn’t fair. Mariel was always telling her what to do, and Ashey was just about sick of it. She wasn’t her mother; she’d never cared about Ashey. That condescending, I-know-everything-and-you-don’t tone grated on her skin.
“No, I’m not going,” said Ashey, walking off. “I have work to do at the library, and that’s where I’ll be.”
“Don’t you dare step out of this house,” said Mariel, her tone frosty. “You are so spoilt, and I am sick to my stomach of your insolence.”
Ashey started to walk on.
“Stop right there!” Mariel yelled. She jumped at Ashey’s side, whirling her around.
Mariel advanced, with Helen close behind. Ashey winced, bracing for the slap of her life—but it never came.
“We don’t need Ashamel for the rite,” said Helen. “And you said it yourself that we were leaving without her anyway.”
“People look at us,” said Mariel. “They are going to see her today and wonder why she doesn’t care about Kalin.”
“Who cares what the people think?” asked Helen.
“Mom, I just—” Mariel took a long look at Ashey and loosened her frown.
“Go and do your thing, Ashey,” said Helen.
“Make sure you’re back for the afternoon rites,” said Mariel. “Your cousins will be there, so I don’t want any excuses then.”
If Ashey had spoken, it would have been foul. She shrugged and went on her way.
“These are your thinking caps,” said Ashey, handing out her cardboard cones to the volunteers at the library. “Find all the books about ascension, write down the big words, make it sound scientific, and cook up something for me. Thank you very much. Get to work.”
Following her instructions, the head librarian organised his staff to gather at the upper study. They moved aside shelves and arranged tables in a circle, fixing their thinking caps on their heads and getting to work.
- Letter of motivation (1400 words)
- Research proposal in any ascension-related study (700 words)
- Junior High Academic Transcript
- Sponsor’s Financial Statement
- Valid Passport
- Arden Student Permit
- Black Syrup Medication Receipt
- Signed Sansel Pledge
- Boarding Tickets
She had the list on the Notes app on her phone. Over the last few days, she’d developed an unhealthy habit of checking what she had and hadn’t crossed off. There was still only one item done—though that would change after today.
“I’ll be in the corner over there if anyone needs me,” she announced.
It wasn’t long before one volunteer approached, clutching his textbooks against his chest.
“Ms Sorel, sorry for bothering you, but would you be interested in politically charged topics?” he asked.
A similar-looking, skinny, glasses-wearing type popped in from behind. “How about the social sciences? There are plenty of theories you could expand upon if you’re interested.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, waving them off. “As long as it has magic in it.”
She spent the next hour scrolling on her phone until she heard chortling, giggles, and the general sounds of leisure. Her grandmother had always told her that workers would do anything but work when given the chance. Frowning, she got up from her chair and made her way to the study desk. It was fortunate she could steal her mother’s face when she needed to.
“How is my proposal going?” she asked, glancing across the half-empty sheets strewn across the desks.
They quickly put their phones away.
“We’re really sorry, Ms Sorel, it happens to be a bad time for us,” said the lead librarian, who had organised the volunteers in the first place. He pulled Ashey aside for a quiet conversation.
“Your grandmother isn’t making life easy for Burning Street’s new residents,” he said. “She’s cut off the water supply to all the houses and turned off the gas pipes.”
“That’s… sad, I guess. But what has that got to do with you guys?”
“Well, the dossi and their families have had enough. They announced they’re holding a protest today.”
The librarian’s round face looked like a balloon about to burst. His workers were on their feet, some sat on desks, scrolling through news feeds on their phones.
“A protest?” said Ashey, unsure how to feel. “In Henrikia? Are they crazy?”
“That’s what we thought too,” said the librarian, hauling her over to watch from his phone. “It wasn’t a bluff.”
The dossi—Ashey could have sworn she recognised a few of them by face—were holding signs and plaques, marching together down a narrow street, blowing whistles. Some had red cloth tied around their heads and wrists. They didn’t look on the verge of violence, but anything could happen at any moment.
“I kind of want to see this up close,” mumbled Ashey.
“So did we,” said the lead librarian. “This is the first time any of us have seen an organised earthen movement within the country. And it’s also the first time we’ve seen a government acting without Gaverian authority. We’re living through unprecedented times, Ms Sorel. What if this is the theory you’re looking for? Henrikia: a life without magic.”
“I’m listening,” said Ashey. “Get me to Burning Street.”
The lead librarian had a van parked in the lot outside the institution. It was a twelve-seater rusty machine with a set of plastic dice dangling from the rearview mirror. Ashey tried to put on the seatbelt, but he shook his head and mouthed, “Too dusty.” At the back, about sixteen scholars were crammed together, cameras, notepads, and pens at the ready, on their way to capture a historic event.
News vans, iced-tea trucks, scholars from other libraries, bloggers and journalists from near and far filled every avenue leading to the protests. Military vehicles blared sirens as they pushed through the thickening crowd of onlookers.
In the end, they had to stand on top of the truck to get a glimpse of the protesters as they marched by. The dossi in red weren’t many, but they were loud enough to be heard over the murmuring bystanders.
‘OURS MEANS OURS!’
‘KEEP THE OCTOPUS OUT!’
“That’s my grandma,” Ashey snorted, pointing at the octopus on the plaque.
A megaphone screeched somewhere along the street, turning spectators into an audience as an English-speaking voice began a speech. From where they had parked the van, it was impossible to see the speaker, so Ashey turned to her phone to follow a live stream.
“Chancellor Sorel’s been good to us. Chancellor Sorel is making all these changes in the city and country for the benefit of the rhen and earthen people,” said the voice. It belonged to an earthen no older than Jay, wearing a black T-shirt and a red cloth tied around his head. One hand rested behind his back as he stared directly into the camera.
“We’re not going to sit by and let a handful of greedy businessmen ruin what could be a great future for the black and the gold. We’re not asking for a lot. We’re not demanding she takes away what is yours and gives it to us. We just want what was already ours.”
“Yes!”
“What was promised.”
“Yes!”
“What was earned from a hard day’s work!”
“YES!”
Despite the roars behind him, he remained calm, without a single bead of sweat on his brow. He readjusted his arm behind his back, took a breath, and continued into the megaphone:
“Chancellor Sorel, how much longer must we wait until water flows through our taps? How much longer until we stop paying tolls to crooks just to enter our own neighbourhoods? Cease the assets of thieves and tyrants and return them to the working people.”
“Yes!” The crowd cheered with their leader. Many had been waiting for the military to clash with the protesters, but so far, there was no confrontation.
“I don’t get it,” mumbled Ashey on the way out. “It feels weird seeing so many people hate my grandma. If there’s anyone I wouldn’t like, it’d be Mariel.”
Apparently, the opposite was often the case. The librarians explained that many loved Mariel. She had eliminated numerous taxes, provided seed funds to small businesses, sped up city reconstruction, and significantly reduced sun-sickness cases. She was especially popular with earthen and Myersian citizens due to her social welfare and insurance programmes. Ashey didn’t pay much attention to the details—her brain automatically filtered out anyone who praised Mariel too much.
“She’s restored diplomatic ties with Sexton already, and not to mention the World Unity Conference coming up in a few weeks,” the lead librarian added. “No other chancellor has ever managed to achieve so much in so little time, if you ask me.”
“So why can’t I get a ticket to leave the country?” asked Ashey. The van went quiet. She was onto something. “If the country’s so great, why is everyone leaving?”
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“No faith, fear, and all for good reason. Our debt to the empire is bigger than ever, and people are afraid the consequences won’t be welcome.”
She got a text from Terry—it was time to head back home.
For the rest of the week, she balanced her spare time as best she could: getting the librarians to write down her research proposal while teaching her what words like insalubrious meant, and fulfilling her familial duties by attending every boring meeting concerning Kalin’s upcoming funeral, just so Mariel wouldn’t get mad at her.
On the day of Kalin’s funeral, they dressed in black and draped themselves in heavy golden tunics. Not many people knew about Kalin, so the turnout was small. Ashey got the worst seat in the church that day: front row, right next to Mariel. Her aunt slapped Ashey’s hand away every time she tried to check her phone, threatening to confiscate it altogether.
Her phone dinged one final time. As soon as the priest called for the congregation to rise, she checked it and found the message she’d been waiting for all day: her complete proposal was ready. She made a small fist bump—and immediately got a smack on the back of her ear. Her aunt seized the phone.
One by one, Ashey handed over a thank-you note to each of the volunteers at New Crest Library. “I would still be stuck on the first line had it not been for your help,” she said, passing them around. Some clutched the notes to their chests, rubbing tears from beneath dry eyes. She knew they were exaggerating their gratitude, but she didn’t mind.
“Before you go, maybe you’d like to rehearse one more time, make sure you understand everything we wrote for you,” the lead librarian suggested.
“Sure,” said Ashey, stepping onto the stage. Her volunteers gathered around, arms folded but unable to keep the smiles off their faces.
“So, as always, pretend I’m Floren,” said the librarian, holding up an imaginary gown and fan while striding theatrically to his desk. “Young lady, do impress me with your intellect.”
“The research I want to pursue at the Galeon is to try and predict what Henrikia would look like once magic is gone. Not even Rheina could have predicted there would be a time when no Gaverian existed in his home. I want to know how it’s going to affect the government, the elites of our society and most importantly, the common people. And if I could, I would find out a way to make it into a good thing. Because a lot of our history unfortunately has been about us not responding well to change.”
The librarians gave her a standing ovation. “Floren is going to love you!” the lead librarian cheered, coming over to squeeze her in an embrace.
“Can I take a picture with you guys?” Ashey asked. “I want to look at it when I make it to the Galeon. I still don’t have my phone with me.”
They huddled together for a group photo.
“Mariel’s being that hard on you?” the librarian asked.
“It’s been three days. She’s completely thrown me off. I have no clue what to do next, and I’m just losing time.”
“Have you tried apologising to her? I don’t think anyone can stay mad at you for long.”
Ashey drew a long face. She could mention a few things, but it wasn’t bad advice. She would swallow her pride, beg, and get her phone back. The problem was that Mariel was hardly ever at home, and on the off-chance Ashey ran into her, she would be busy speaking with officials.
That Tuesday, before school began, she caught her aunt on the balcony, eating breakfast alone. Mariel had a phone to her ear, but the conversation seemed leisurely. Ashey fixed a smile, placed her hands behind her back, and stepped to the table.
Mariel had honey spread on pancakes, eggs in a cup, a small basket of grapes and strawberries, grilled beef, a slice of pie, and a glass of lemon juice blended with flowers and napkins that would make a bee jealous. She pressed her phone to her shoulder blade, raising an eyebrow at Ashey.
“I shouldn’t have been so rude to you,” said Ashey. “I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. And even if I am, that was no way to talk to you. I’m sorry.”
“You want your phone back,” said Mariel.
“Yes, Renna.”
Mariel snorted, holding a finger against her nose. “I’ll give it back if you spend time with Schevara this week. I’d like you to give him another chance.”
Ashey took a deep breath, putting her hands together as tightly as she could. “Aunt Mariel, please listen to me. We don’t have to obey the Yunnish. We don’t need the emperor to protect us when we can go far away.”
“You want me to leave the office and run away with you to… wherever.”
“And we’ll take Grandma, Aunt Terry, Neva, and Tori.”
Mariel nodded along. “Right. And this place you’re running to is safer than Henrikia, our home, because…”
“Because the swayers will protect us. I’m trying to get into the Galeon to keep out the bad guys.”
“So that’s what you’ve been up to,” said Mariel. “Ashey, you’re not going to the Galeon. They won’t accept a Henrikian, let alone a Sorel.”
“For someone who advocates for world peace, that’s very prejudiced of you.”
“It’s a matter of fact. A problem, actually. One that I’ve invited the Soncara to resolve with me. And do you know what would make it successful? If I could show them Henrikia is willing to cooperate with other nations. But getting my own niece to marry into Yunnish royalty is already impossible.”
“How is that my fault?”
“It’s not your fault any more than it’s the fault of seeds for growing in the cracks of pavement. You’re not wrong for what you are, but you’re not wanted where you’ve grown comfortable.”
“I want my phone back.”
“I want a quiet breakfast,” said Mariel, sipping from her glass.
Ashey’s frown cut so deep it pained. Before leaving, she tipped Mariel’s glass, spilling orange juice onto her aunt’s dress. Ashey stood, watching, waiting for a reaction. It wasn’t violent. Mariel reached for a napkin, tried to clean off the spill, and called a dossi nearby to tidy the rest from the table and floor. Ashey’s name did not come up. She was completely ignored.
I hate her.
It was half past one. Their science teacher was late, and everyone else was buried in their stupid plastic phones rather than talking like human beings. Ashey pressed her ear to the desk to muffle the noise.
“Ashey, you look dead,” said Illah. “I think you might actually die if you don’t get your phone back.”
“Ashey, can I have my pencil back, please?”
Who was that? A girl from a junior class stood at her desk, twiddling her thumbs.
“What pencil?”
“You borrowed it last week for your test.”
“I don’t know where it is,” Ashey said. “Sorry.”
The girl didn’t leave. She remained, watching her. Ashey tapped her pockets, checked under her table, and ended up snatching the boy’s pencil next to her. She offered it with a sidelong grin.
The girl shook her head. “I told you it was my dad’s. You promised to take care of it.”
“Oh my God, I don’t care about your stupid pencil or your stupid dad. Leave me alone, please. I’ll buy you a new one—whatever you like. Just, piss off, okay?”
The girl shook her head. “I’m telling Mister Thompson.”
Ashey’s hand shot up, fast and strong. Noreen caught her wrist just in time, and Illah guided her to sit down.
“I borrowed it from Ashey, but I left it at home. I’ll have it by tomorrow,” said Noreen.
The girl was only half listening, still gasping after the near strike. Ashey looked through fallen hair, too ashamed to meet her eyes.
“I’ve known you a long time, and this is probably the worst I’ve ever seen you,” said Illah quietly. “Is living with your aunt that bad?”
Ashey mumbled a tangle of non-answers, saved from guilt by Don Roy’s return from lunch. He rarely ate at school, often sneaking out to the café nearby. Most days, he skipped lunch entirely, only showing up for the last period.
He gestured for Ashey to follow him to the back row, patting the boy next to him to make space. Just as she settled, their science teacher walked in—everyone’s favourite. Passionate about his subject, he spoke at length, answered every question, and inevitably sparked debates with the smart kids over molecules or something.
Amid the chaos, Don Roy leaned closer. “I may have got us a way out of the waiting list,” he said. “Premium tickets to a Yunnish vessel. No more waiting three months—we’ll be gone in one.”
“Really?” Ashey shook his arm, extracting every detail.
“You’ve got to relax, Ashey. I don’t think you’ll like it as much as you imagine,” he warned.
“I’ve got money,” she shot back.
Don Roy shook his head, hiding a grin behind his hand. “Meet me after school. I’ll drive us there.”
After Kalin’s funeral, Mariel had eased up on Ashey. There was no reason to micromanage her since she went straight home without her phone anyway. Using Don Roy’s didn’t feel the same—his home screen was a mess, his wallpaper a flaming, guitar-playing devil. No taste.
By the time they reached the ring, Don Roy was telling the operator they were heading to the Western Gates. Alarm bells rang in Ashey’s mind. If anyone else had been driving, she might have bolted.
“Don’t freak out,” he said. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you yet.”
“You’re taking me to him.”
The shadow of Valentina loomed over the car. Ashey clutched the seat, hoping the next words from Don Roy would convince her he wasn’t a traitor.
“The Fairy Prince isn’t here. He’s meeting with Mariel at the Assembly Hall. You’ve got to keep up with the news, Ashey,” Don Roy chuckled.
“So, why are we here?”
“To meet the Fairy Princess.”
Stewards greeted them at the waterfront with polite bows. Ashey clung to Don Roy’s tail, climbing the stairs and stepping onto the ship for the first time. Darkness enveloped her at first, smelling of fresh wood and wax. Then, as suddenly as the dark had come, light flooded the lobby. Sparkling crystals illuminated an open space filled with gleaming trinkets and gems. Emerald walls, golden-rimmed windows, an emerald carpet, golden-trimmed bannisters, emerald curtains with golden embroidery.
She scurried along like a lost rat, doing her best not to stare at the luxurious, unfamiliar objects. They ascended and circled a grand staircase while Don Roy strolled confidently, as if he had been here a hundred times before.
They reached a wooden door wide enough to be the Assembly Hall’s entrance.
“My Lady,” the steward announced, “your guests have arrived.”
“Let them in,” said Schevara’s sister, pitchy and tinged with an obnoxious accent.
The doors swung open to reveal a dragon’s lair. Ashey squinted until her eyes adjusted to the glittering artifacts on display. The room seemed ripped from a history museum. Diamond-encrusted eggs rested under glass on a podium. Embroidered shawls laced with golden threads, ivory tusks, and a miniature zoo of animals filled ornamented shelves. Compared to this, Porcia herself seemed almost dwarfed. She reclined in a bed of feathers, wearing a long green silk dress, while two servants fussed over her manicure.
“Sit, please,” she said, though there were no chairs except for the two thrones at the back.
Don Roy took the lead, removing his shoes and kneeling on a mat at Porcia’s feet. Ashey had no choice but to follow, kneeling beside him.
“Do you like my collection?” Porcia asked, parting her lips ever so slightly, enough for the maid behind her to slip in a straw. She sipped her juice, smacking her lips with deliberate precision. “I like fetching things wherever I go. I would have done so here, too, but Henrikia is incredibly boring.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something interesting if you look hard enough,” Ashey said, forcing a tight laugh. “There are lots of great places in our country.”
Porcia’s neck tilted, her powder puffing with every slight movement. She stared at Ashey blankly. “I don’t like you very much,” she said. “I don’t want to help you.”
“Porcia—your Highness,” Don Roy interjected. “You already promised me those tickets, remember?”
“That was before I saw her face again,” said Porcia. “I thought after all this time I might find it in my heart to forgive her. Alas, I was wrong. She still annoys me.”
“Why?” asked Ashey. “What did I ever do to you?”
“Two thousand two hundred and thirty-eight kilometres on foot, and six hundred more by boat. That is the distance the Sareen tribesmen travelled to welcome my brother into this world. Sixteen princesses from across the empire collapsed the day he declared his intention to marry a foreigner. Sixteen. One is still unconscious. Yet, you humiliated my brother in front of the entire world. You. Daughter of a war criminal.”
“So, which tickets did you get us exactly?” asked Don Roy. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”
Porcia clapped her hands. A butler appeared at her side with a silver tray, upon which lay two golden cards. “VIP tickets on board the Starcadia,” she said. “It sets sail mid-April.”
Don Roy nudged Ashey in the ribs, mouthing, “Is that good?” She didn’t know. Noreen usually did the serious thinking for her. But a ticket was a ticket—they would make it work. Still, a sick feeling told her Porcia had no intention of granting it freely.
“Ashamel Sorel, should I help you betray my brother?” Porcia asked, running her hand over the tickets. “He needs to be humbled. Schevara must learn to listen to his elders. You’ve given me enough satisfaction, making him suffer for the first time in his sheltered life. But I don’t like you. That’s not enough reason to help you.”
“You like me,” Don Roy said. “And you’re very generous to your friends.”
“I am,” Porcia agreed with a series of nods. “You want me to give Ashamel a chance?”
“Yes, yes! She’ll do anything,” Don Roy said, practically bouncing.
Porcia sat up straighter, slapping her lap. “How about this? I want you to make my trip to Henrikia worthwhile. There is something the country values, but I just can’t take it home with me.”
Ashey leaned forward. “What is it?”
“I want a Sorel.” She said it flatly, without further context.
“Excuse me?” Ashey shifted on her legs, which were going numb.
“Bring me a Sorel. I don’t care which one. I’d really love to stuff them in a box.”
What?
Don Roy laughed first, clutching his stomach, and begged Ashey to follow. Her laughter was wet, heavy, and uncontrollable. Porcia joined in, admitting it was just a joke. “Your ring will do,” Porcia said finally. “Give me that, and I’ll give you the tickets.”
“I don’t have a ring,” Ashey said.
“I want the ring,” snapped Porcia. “Give me the Sansel ring, or you get nothing from me.”
That evening at dinner, the family ring gleamed differently on Mariel’s finger. Ashey’s lingering stares were mistaken for a plea to get her phone back. Mariel refused. “I want you to apologise for your behaviour this past week. I was glad when I heard you visited Valentina today—but then I heard you went along with Sabina’s son. He’s no good, Ashey. I don’t know why you walk with him.”
“Actually, Don Roy was the one who encouraged me to visit Schevara,” said Ashey. “He asked me to give him another chance.”
“How is his father’s business in Yuna?” Helen asked. “I haven’t seen that man in years.”
“It’s doing great. Don Roy’s been telling me about Yuna recently—what life is like there, what the prince is really like. Honestly, I think I might have judged him too harshly.”
Mariel smiled to herself, enjoying her meal with a little less tension in her shoulders. “Well, I’m glad you’ve found your senses. Your phone is in the last drawer by my bed.”
Ashey sprang to Mariel’s room. Rarely did she get the chance to be here. Time to take advantage. She called an emergency meeting with her other selves.
“How can we steal her ring from this position?” demanded Ashey Prime.
“Don’t stall. Get the phone as quickly as you can. Mariel would be suspicious,” said Seconder Ashey.
She opened the last drawer, grabbed her phone, and hugged it to her chest.
“Now drop the phone case,” one Ashey instructed.
“Why?”
“So that you have an excuse to come back later.”
“How does that help me steal the ring?”
“Mariel takes late showers every night, right? She’s bound to take off the ring when she’s in there. Knock on the door, tell her you’re here for the phone case. Find the ring. Nab it. Home free.”
It was risky. Being the only one in the room, which other person could Mariel suspect? It didn’t matter. She just needed to hide it and hand it over to Porcia the next day. After that, it wouldn’t be her problem.
Once the showers started running, Ashey puffed out a breath and gave a firm knock on the door. “Auntie, it’s me. I left my phone case.”
No response. Her arms trembled. She’d texted Don Roy for luck. He’d told her not to do it and to wait while he thought of another way. She would have listened—but too many people had pulled her weight already. She had to act for herself.
She stepped inside and found the ring exactly where she’d dreamed it would be—on the bed, alone, unprotected. She rubbed her sweaty palms together and took smaller steps, unsure whether to grab the phone case first or the ring.
“Ashey? Is that you?” Mariel’s voice came from the bathroom.
“Yes! I forgot my phone case. Can I take it?”
“Sure,” Mariel replied. “Please close the door on your way out.”
“I will.”
There was a large pocket in her jacket waiting for the prize. On the count of three, she grabbed the ring, squeezed it tight, and tucked it into her pocket. Heat radiated from the metal, then vanished, replaced by a stinging cold.
Her sweaty palm grew wetter. The sting sharpened, throbbed. Pain shot through her hand. Her face burned, her nose clogged. She didn’t want to see what had happened to her hand.
Shutting her eyes, she pulled her hand from her pocket and opened her fingers. Thousands of tiny, searing rays pierced through her right hand. Her fist was stiff, her hand numb, as if it no longer belonged to her. She whimpered, trying to pry the ring free, but it was stuck. When nothing worked, she screamed.