Electrocuted

"Elodie!" My mom screams, "Run!"

I stay curled in a tight ball in my closet. The dresses just barely scrape my hair, and the darkness in the closet makes me shiver.

A blood-curdling scream follows, from Mom. Then it becomes silent. I throw a hand over my mouth, muffling my whimpers. But it must not have been enough, because I could hear heavy footsteps on the stairs.

The sound of glass shattering dances its way to my ears. My eyes widen.

They're destroying the mural!

A sob escapes my mouth. That was one of the two things I had left of my father! I grab my leather jacket off my hanger, smelling it. The lingering smell of my father calms me slightly, but the smell is fading. Instead a foul odor of rotting trash fills my nose. With it comes heavy footsteps.

Gosh, have they never heard of deodorant?

I scramble back as the door to my closet opens, sending in a beam of light.

"Elodie?" My mom's voice calls out, "Come on. We have to leave."

I'm so tempted, but Mom had told me to not come out, even if the person who asked was her.

A heavy male voice sighs, "She's not coming out. I told you we should have used the gas disk."

"Well, we can't now," a husky female voice says, "it would destroy our cells too."

Stomping ensues, the sounds of feet coming closer to me. A pair of heavy hands grab me, and I scream when I see what my ears couldn't comprehend.

The reason behind the blood-curdling scream.

Mom is on the floor, still. Unmoving. Red blood is staining the white, fluffy carpet around her. I cling to the leather jacket, needing something to root me.

I hear a vague scream, and I look around to see where it's coming from. I'm partially stunned to see that it's coming from me.

The woman reaches for me, trying to pick me up. I scramble back, my eleven-year-old body trembling. But when I see the flecks of blood on the cuffs of her pantsuit, I feel a deep tugging in my gut.

Purple lightning streaks from my hands, and it directs itself to the two people. They drop to the floor, smoking, with their hair wildly sticking out.

I look at my hands in horror.

I'm smart enough to know I shouldn't be found here. And Mom had told me that I had to get away if she ever wasn't around. I was so tempted to stay. To tell the police. But I'd made a promise to Mom. One of my last ones.

I had to honor it.

So I decide run. I take my leather jacket, my sleeping bag, my mom's wallet, some food, a hairbrush, a toothbrush, and toothpaste.

I look over my belongings.

The leather jacket from Dad, basic necessities…but nothing from Mom.

My eyes water, but I stubbornly shake my head. I can't cry now.

I grab Mom's engagement ring and slip it on the leather thread around the neck Mom had put on earlier for sizing for her jewelry business.

I grab my stuff and head out. As I close the door behind me, I look out towards the sky. It's a beautiful day, streaked with pastel pink clouds and blue hues.

A new day.

I take a deep breath. For one calm, still moment.

Then, I take off running.

Away.

From.

Them.

I wake up, gasping. The nightmare was my past, three years later, and here I was--afraid of it. I run my hands through my messy, smoky lavender hair. The lavender had shown up after that night, and it wouldn't go away, so I decided to embrace it.

I can't take the foul taste in my mouth anymore so I get up, and walk to the nearby college--Charleston University. With the fierce scowl on my face, nobody bothers me as I head to the student bathrooms and clean up.

I'd claimed the nearby street after I ran away, mainly because of the dog that was there. Everyday, I defended my street, fed my dog, whom I'd decided to call Charlie, after Mom, cleaned myself, educated myself through the public library, online programs, and books. Then, I went to the nearby gym and worked out, ending my day going back to my street, exhausted mentally and physically. Then, I'd repeat it the next day.

Sometimes people would give me twenty bucks and I'd buy myself new clothes from thrift stores. Or I'd get a treat for Charlie.

I head out of the University, freshly washed and dressed, to the laundromat. You'd be surprised how many quarters are just lying around New York. Quickly picking up the load I'd put in late last night, I fold it and head over to a nearby café where my friend practically lives: Jax Funtering.

He always gives me free breakfast in exchange for tutoring services, which I count as reviewing for stuff I've already learned.

He's my only friend in this city of eight million people.

On my way, I encounter a couple of douchebags who block my path and shout gross things to me. One of them presses up against me and a spark finds its way to my fingertips.

I scan my surroundings to make sure nobody noticed, and as I do, I notice a pair of teal eyes fixed on me. They're absolutely gorgeous, but it's not like I can afford to stay here and be exposed.

My mom had gotten me to hide. I didn't know why, but she must've had a good reason.

Right?

I turn and sprint away from the group of men, but more importantly the teal eyes. Because they caught what many had failed to do.

They caught my powers.

I wish I could just wake up from this, and that my Dad and Mom would be downstairs. Then, I would walk downstairs, in pajamas, and sit down at the table with pancakes. The air would smell of cinnamon and honey. I wish that I was a normal fourteen-year-old. But I'm not.

And that could get me killed.