Allison Coldwell stood beside her cool clear glass window. Outside she could see a few children on bikes, people walking dogs, a normal afternoon; if not for one thing. From the penthouse where she was standing the protest on the streets below was in full view. Thousands of people, marching, screaming "we come first" and "mutants aren't people". Each call cut through her like a scalpel laced with alcohol. She was in no place to judge them, though. She knew full well what people did when they were scared of the unknown. Just a year ago she would've been right down there with the masses. She had hated mutants to her dying breath. Oh, she would justify it to herself, make it seem right. 'They are a threat to the true form of man' she would think', 'if we allow them to exist they will corrupt us'. She used to think of God a lot, how those abominations to his image could stare him in the face and exist with the devil inside them. But Allison didn't go to church much anymore; in fact she didn't think about God or the Devil at all anymore. Her Father and Mother, rich businesspeople, took the family to church three times a week to pray for her. She was always asked to come along by her aunt. She told her that seeing into the soul of the lord would help draw the evil from her. They told her she was loved, but she knew she was only seen as an embarrassment. To keep her from 'soiling the halls of a god fearing household' she was kept always in the warehouse-room. It was a very nice room; it was long and large with concrete walls and floors. One window (the one she was looking through) gave a fantastic panoramic view of the city and took up a whole wall. There was a piano and a potted plant and a bed. She attended school twice a week when her family wasn't at church. A private school downtown called Branksome hall for girls. It was ordinary, and most people only talked to her in a minimal way. This wasn't because they knew what she could do, no, she wouldn't tell anyone in a million years. She avoided most girls in the place because before she even talked to them she felt the strength of their character radiate around them. They were all just bees in a hive. All on a separate menial task but all the same in the end. They wore their uniforms the same way, had the same unintelligent manner of speaking, and cared only for themselves. She had two friends, Ella and Belle who were innocent as puppies, and she loved them. She was afraid, though, of loving them. She knew they would be taken from her someday and she couldn't bear the weight of it. So most of Allison's free time, which was almost none, was spent in her prison room. She knew she was an embarrassment and so she would always feel. Allison's twin brother, 12-year-old Jack came to her door and knocked. She let him in and listened to the loudened classical music drift in. Jack was the more vicious of her siblings towards her. He liked much music, being 'witty', and talking about all of his girlfriends to the Coldwells at dinner. He was holding Allison's dinner on a tray for her, staring maliciously. "In my opinion, you shouldn't be fed. Feeding you only feeds the flames of the hellfire in your soul. It should be starved". But even as he made a sad attempt at being intolerant and forced the words out with little sincerity towards her, she saw the love in his eyes. Being the meanest toughest guy around was his defense. Allison was the only one in the house who knew he was different. He was sweeter inside than any other person she had ever known, and she had once seen him reading the Origin of the Species. He was his own person, held down by inhibitions and insecurities. This made her love him more than any other person in the world. He was alien, like her. Of course, he didn't know she knew. He only found his haven here with her because he felt the same way subconsciously. He brought her meals, kept her updated on the family affairs, and never hit her hard when she was getting beaten for her sins. "Mother and Father are worried about these protests," he said, "you should be as well. It's your kind they're after, the godless ones. The cure that caused all that trouble those few months ago has turned out not to work. It started with some Polish man from the laboratory incident and now everyone who got it is back to their old selves. The public wants to kill every mutant that they find now; they have no faith in God to take care of us. You should be worried". Jack faked a smile and came to sit by her as she ate. "Jack, I'm not happy being hidden from the world. If persecution is the price to pay for being who I am then it is worth telling the world. I'm scared of losing what I have, and I'm not sure I can do it but I will if I can...somehow keep a piece of my life...close," said Allison. Jack saw right through her facade. He panicked and tried inwardly to pretend it wasn't happening. "I started dating someone at school. Her name is Maria and she has blonde hair and blue eyes and is Christian and likes tennis and fashion things and makes level fours all the time and..." he continued to ramble on, all the time avoiding eye contact and pulling on a loose string of his sweater. The situation had gotten tense very quickly. Allison knew that she had broken down the wall that Jack had built around himself. It was risky, she knew. She could've spoiled their relationship; but what existed between them but a sea of hidden virtues? This was his moment, she had handed it to him and he was perfectly in control to either continue being separated from her or build a bridge and meet her for the first time, truly. "Mother, "he called after a very long time looking at her, "we must go to the church at once and pray; Allison is practicing. The Devil is overcoming her," he said in his most malicious voice. The family rushed to the door, but didn't cross the threshold. An unspoken barrier existed and only Jack entered Allison's room. That was one thing that he let set him apart. A sign of love. Allison knew it was her Que. to use her gift. She pulled off her shirt, leaving only her tank top on. A system of straps contained a set of wings and she unhooked them. A great pressure was released from her back and her wings sprung out to their full three meter span. Allison thought that Jack saw her as an angel because of this feature, but it only made her sad to think about because she didn't feel as if she could save anyone. The more difficult part of the display was to call on her control of materials. This was exceedingly difficult for her because there were so many things in the room to distract her. What came most easily was control of dirt, or metal, or another form of matter that was solid but could also be made to flow and remain unified. But today, she needed fire, fire came from hell. She concentrated, had to create it from her breath, and then felt the fire bubble up inside of her. It started at her feet and licked around them, then with one more hot breath it engulfed her entirely. She was not on fire in the classical sense, only it seemed to be a liquid flowing up her body. Her father growled, and started to the bedroom to get his paddle, but Jack stopped him, "Father, you are the leader of our household, do not soil your hands on this filthy child. Go and lead the prayer, I will beat the devil from her," he said. The Coldwells stumbled from the house limply, in a hurry. Jack walked over to where Allison was and sat down on her couch. He stared at nothing in front of him, assessing his life. Allison was in a cold sweat, and collapsed next to him, not bothering to fold her wings. They lay there for a while, in silence. Jack began to cry, and looked Allison in the face in despair. "I don't know how I can live with myself," he sobbed quietly, "Allison, they gave you up to white coats, and they're going to take you soon" he choked out. White coats were people who worked for Holy Trinity. They were sponsored by the church, upheld by the government. Their main duties were to collect mutants and other 'wayward' children and use their facility to cure them. No one knew much about it, but no one seemed to care much what happened inside if they produced results. Going there was not a choice. People who resisted ran into trouble. They were called white coats because they were reminiscent of the Kloo Klux Klan. Allison gave up inside, deciding that if she could only have this moment with Jack, it should be a good one. She put her head on his shoulder and they sobbed into the night together; not in sadness entirely, but love as well. They fell asleep on that couch, but early in the morning Allison felt Jack shift and start to cry again. She picked herself up and put her scarred and beaten wing over the two of them, oh how scarred they were. "Allie, I'm afraid," he whispered, crying, "What if, what if they come for me as well?"
"They won't, you're human and good"
"no"
"Yes, you are Jack,"
"God, god"
"You have nothing to be afraid of, you're...whole,"
"Allie do you love me?"
"You mean everything to me Jack," Jack sniffled and rubbed his eye.
"A-allie I'm gay"
"And I love you"
"D-do you think they're going to take me too?"
"Maybe, but at least we'll be together" And then they were quiet for a long time.