Chapter One
Bleed It Out
"Fuck this hurts, I won't lie
Doesn't matter how hard I try
Half the words don't mean a thing
And I know that I won't be satisfied"
Another day, more experimentation.
I drag myself out of bed, hit the button on the wall to tell my guardians I'm awake and wait for the door to unlock so that I can use the bathroom. After I do my business and brush my teeth, being careful over my filed down canines and avoiding the mirror as best I can, I head to the basement where I'd usually have breakfast. Meals for me are always away from the family. They say that it's because my body isn't capable of handling the food they eat and they don't want to tease me with what I can't have. So I'll have the gruel made of things they say are native to my people. Today, however, I have to go under anesthesia, so I just dry swallow my medication and wait until everyone else has eaten.
"Phoenix!" I hear from the basement door, and I rush to my feet, pushing my normally unruly red hair behind my shoulders and standing up as straight as I can with the pain of my wings growing in, and I quickly look down to make sure my new claws aren't tearing through my boots. I was supposed to report when or if I started growing claws on my feet like I did on my hands so that they could be filed down for safety purposes, but I like the idea that a part of me looks like I'm supposed to, even if what I'm supposed to look like is ugly, at least it's real. So I hide the claws.
"Yes sir?" I respond, just loud enough to be heard through the door. It opens up and the head of the faerie household I live in stands there with his arms folded across his chest, blue eyes narrowed at me like they always are. "Are you ready for the operation?"
I nod. "Yes, Oberon sir." I have the utmost respect for this man who took me in. Me, a rescued, orphaned phoenix child, when he has his own daughter to raise. Tanya is my best and only friend, and Oberon and Shea are like family to me. They feed me, give me clothes, make sure I don't lose control of my pyro-kinesis and burn anything, that I don't slip up in any other way and alert the humans that I'm not one of them, and they make sure that I have a job and can defend myself if need be. They're the only family I've ever known, and since the rest of my family and most of my race was killed by… them… the Fae that I live with will be the only family I'll ever know.
"Well then let's go."
Oberon leads me through the house and to the car. We live in Los Angeles, in a huge house in a neighborhood where the neighbors are wealthy, and some are famous. So whenever I'm going to be leaving the house I have to look somewhat presentable. I'll never be pretty like Tanya with my freckled skin, green eyes and my ridiculously long red crazy hair, so I don't expect to look nice, but at least with Tanya's help I can wrestle the thick mass into a neat braid. Even so, I get stared at in public. It makes Oberon angry, and it makes me self-conscious, but there's nothing I can do about it, so I keep my head down and try not to make eye contact.
We drive to a hospital on Cadillac Ave and when we get to the front desk, the security guard leads us to a supply closet and stands outside while we walk in. I get on the floor and start looking for the switch that will open up the doorway to the rest of the hospital, and after I find it and get up, Oberon and I head through it to the sublevels of the building.
The company that Oberon works for is called Stairway to Heaven, and they've made it their duty to save and protect people like me… Phoenix and dragons and gorgons and Valkyrie and even simple shape shifters. They rescue us from the most evil people ever known, the ones who run Road to Hell and Good Intentions, who would do their best to eradicate us from existence. I don't know why they hate us. Neither do any of the others that I've met, or even Tanya, but considering that all of us are orphans and nobody's come looking for us, I'd say there's no reason to question it.
"Hey Mr. Johnson," I say to the gorgon who greets us. He's one of the people who runs Stairway to Heaven. I've met him before. He's here every time I come to have my procedure done. Wants to make sure it runs smoothly. But even if I'd never met him, I'd know he was a gorgon by his eyes. They're dark brown, almost black, but I can see the reptilian pupils that marks his race. That, combined with his smooth dark skin, and there'd be no doubt that Mr. Johnson is a gorgon.
"Hello Adele. Come to have the wings removed again?" I forget sometimes that my name is Adele. Oberon only calls me Phoenix in the house, and Shea and Tanya follow his lead. It makes me feel special that such an important person remembers me though. And if a part of me is uneasy that he's always at my appointments, I tamp the feeling down so fast it almost doesn't register.
"Yes sir. They're growing faster this time around. They make my shoulders itch too."
"Is that so?" Mr. Johnson rubs his chin with one hand and tilts his head at me. It makes me a little uncomfortable when he looks me in my eyes like this, because I wonder if he's going to hypnotize me. He never looks the fae in the eye this way. Or the sirens, the sorceri, or the gargoyles… "Well next time we'll make sure to get you an appointment as soon as you let us know you feel them. Have you been taking your medicine?"
I nod my head, but say nothing as a rush of anger fills me. Why can't I keep my wings? What would it hurt for me to have my wings and learn to control my powers instead of just taking medication to suppress them? I don't ask any of this. I know the answer I would receive. "It's too dangerous. How long would it take you? Who would teach you? Would you really risk the safety of your guardian and the humans nearby for your own selfish reasons?" the same answers I received as a child.
I remind myself that I'll be eighteen soon, and once Tanya and I move out together, I won't have to follow these stupid rules anymore. Who would know? But as the anger dies down I wonder if maybe the rules are just to keep everyone safe. Maybe I'm being stupid and selfish…
"You ready? The sorceri are ready for you," Mr. Johnson's question shakes me from my musings as he reaches his hand out to me to take me to the surgery area. I look down at my feet again to make sure my claws aren't tearing through my boots, and then let him pull me to the surgery room. The sorceri surgeons are waiting for me. One of them hands me a backless paper gown to put on, and I hesitate for a moment before changing into it. None of them leave the room, not even Mr. Johnson. Privacy is nonexistent for someone like me. The fae, the sirens, the sorceri, and the gargoyles… they get privacy. Us rescued kids, and even after we become adults, get none. I have another flash of anger that I quickly suppress.
After I change, I sit on the gurney in the center of the room and wait for them to give me the anesthesia, but instead the sorceri surround me closely, and Mr. Johnson steps in front of me. He cups my chin and forces my face up so that I'm looking him directly in the eyes. His eyes glow silver, and his voice rumbles deeply,
"You're going to lay face down on this cot, and not move until the sorceri tell you that you can. You will not scream, you will not fight them or threaten, and you will not pass out. Do it now."
My mind is screaming as my body does exactly as Mr. Johnson says and lays face down on the cot. When the first knife cuts into my back, my mouth opens in a silent scream, the pain in my back making my body so stiff that my muscles start to lock and cramp, tears streaming down my face, and when they start to cut into bone, my eyes roll into the back of my head, my entire being aching and screaming for blessed unconsciousness, but it never comes. My nerves are on fire, and even though I took my medicine this morning, I can feel my body heating up; can even see the flames behind my eyes, but they never leave my body. I start to sweat, both with the exertion of not moving when in so much pain, and with the flames trapped within my skin, and the sweat only makes the pain worse, salt slipping into the open wounds.
After what has to be hours and hours of agony, one of the sorceri pulls me into a sitting position, and standing right in front of me is Mr. Johnson. A hatred so strong fills me that I can taste it; like blood and fire and as sweet as chocolate. Just as I'm giving myself over to it and a very birdlike squawk leaves my lips, Mr. Johnson's eyes start to glow again, and his voice rumbles out,
"You will not remember this, we put you under anesthesia, and you're just waking up after we took it off. You're tired. Groggy. You can move and speak again. You feel well enough for training. Everything is as it should be."
I open my eyes slowly. I'm on my stomach on the gurney, and my back is a little sore. I assume that the surgery went well. My mouth tastes like old pennies and heat, but I have no clue why, and I'm too groggy to care. Deep inside of me, a part of me that has always felt like a kicked puppy starts to growl.
A/N: If you cant tell who this is i'm not going to spoil it for you quite yet. XD i need some help with naming this story. i suck immensely with names.
Any feedback would be great!