The sweat rolled down her back like condensation dripped down the windows of the small, aging convenience store that she was currently in, waiting for her boyfriend to come pick her up. Fallon Locke walked up and down the aisle of the refrigerated section that featured the bottled sodas and canned coffee, trying to cool and calm down after running away from home. She would not go back this time, not after her father’s ultimatum, not after her father and older half-brother pawned all of her late mother's jewelry so that they could indulge in their habits when that was her mother's, not her brother's mother, and certainly never her father's wife or partner. So, she stuffed the only other thing she had left of her mother, her mother's crystal ball, with the rest of her belongings in her backpack and didn't look back.

She thought back to when her mother said that they were magic and that they had a gift, but Fallon had never seen that crystal ball do anything. Which was because there was no such thing as magic. Not that it mattered; this crystal ball was a part of her mother, and that was enough.

She wanted a drink, but she also needed to save money. That run had left her in need of water, but even the fountain cups here cost money. She knew her boyfriend was not going to let her stay with him for free, plus she was going to have to get herself to school in the morning while he played video games with his roommates, then find a way to get to her waitressing job.

"Give me all your money!" a voice echoed off the walls.

Fallon turned and saw a group of people in all black, faces covered. She never even heard anyone come in, but the gun at the old clerk's head was frightening.

She couldn't see any details, but before she could breathe, the old clerk fell back, and there was no hesitation from the gunman. She squatted down, hoping that she was not seen.

"Dude, you weren't suppose to shoot him," that was her boyfriend Jackson's voice.

"I don't care, get the money," the gunman said.

It sounded like his roommate, Corey.

There was no way Jackson was going to stay her boyfriend now, and she knew she could stay with him now, but her immediate problem was making sure she could get out of this store alive.

But that is when something weird happened.

Fallon froze, ratty sneakers glued to the floor. She paused halfway with the can on the shelf half-raised, scared to move for the squeak of shoes on the polished tile, or the gentle thunk of the can being set down would surely give her away.

Her eyes darted around — the door, too far. The cameras, not pointed at her. The employee’s only room, maybe a few paces away. Jackson and Corey’s voices were low, and the AC hummed in time with the cooler, masking Fallon’s footfall as she slid into the staffroom, dragging five cans of soda along with her.

They wouldn’t miss it. What’s petty theft to armed robbery? They’ll assume Jackson stole them.

Jackson.

The name was a stake through her heart, his voice, no, Corey’s: ‘you weren’t supposed to shoot him.’

Had he died? Had Fallon just become witness to a murder?

She sprang for the lock on the door, wedging it shut with a mop across the handle. Her phone was dying—no luck there, and she could hear the boys rifling through the cash register, fast and frantic, as she searched through her bag. A set of pajamas, a five dollar bill, toothbrush, gum, and…her mother’s crystal ball. She picked it up. It was weighty, and rolled from her bag to the floor without cracking. It was either dense glass, or acrylic all along, and Fallon had always been good at an overarm serve.

She pushed open the door a crack, and scurried out between the shelves of stale chips and candy bars. From her vantage point, she spied two heads, covered in black, over the top of the register.

She lifted her arm…and pitched. The glass ball sailed over the shelves in a clean arc, silent until it struck the head of Jackson, then Cory in quick succession. Fallon had always had a powerful arm. It, along with both boys, fell to the floor with an almighty crash, before the ball rolled back to her, unharmed and not chipped.

Fallon stared at it.

And so came the final mercy of Maria Locke.