Don't hurl. Don't hurl. Don't hurl.
For the first time in a very, very long time, Dagny was genuinely afraid. Controlling her 'power' was hard, and something she'd never succeeded at before, but she felt this was something she needed to learn how to do-- and considering midnight was shaking its ugly rear in her face, she figured she should figure this out soon-- even if she was sat in an alleyway on the rainiest night the world had ever seen.
Dagny's fingers, so tightly wrapped around the metal bar lying at her feet, began to pulsate, but she cleared her mind; a white pool spreading over her angry thoughts - think about Niall, think about those cute redhead kids we saw at the adoption agency, think about Clowy - until they stopped altogether. "Fucking hell," she said aloud, more in amazement than anything else. "I did it."
She could hear footsteps behind her, but she didn't care, not even when she noticed she'd bent the bar in her hand right in two. She still felt ill, but a smile was spreading across her pasty-white face. What a fucking triumph.
