Amy Dawn woke up, sweating. She lay in bed for a while, not wanting to sit up. She rolled over to face her dark clue alarrm clock. 3:28, it read. Amy groaned;still not morning. She hated it. She hated the fact that she woke up every night, sweating and panting, waking up after a nightmare she could never remember. She only remembers one thing: running. Running down a dark place, away from something, away from someone. That thing was dangerous. It wanted to rip Amy apart, and shred her soul.
But Amy never remebered anything else. What was the thing? Why did it hate her so much? What did she do to make it hate her so much? It's not a person, Amy thought. She knew that. Well, she thought, it's defiently not completely human.
Amy always tried to fall back asleep. But she couldn't. She never could. Everytime Amy felt that she was going to once again slip into a deep slumber, words would whisper in her ear. Always the same words. It's not real. It's just something to fool you. Pull you in. Run. Run. Run. And then there was the screaming. The screaming is what really kept her from falling back asleep again. Right after the third run, the screams would start. The screamer never tried to take a breath. Just one, long howl.
There was another serioulsy wrong with Amy. She kept her secret to herself; it was quite personal. She could move things. With her mind. One little jolt of the head and whatever she wanted to move, moved. The longer she thought about it, and the longer she kept her head tilted, the more the object would move. She could also make people do what she wants. She seds out an electrical wave of some sort, and that person does her bidding. And she hated it.
Hated the fact that she was a freak. Hated the act that she couldn't be normal. She hated the fact that it was her, always her. She was always the one who seemed to cause trouble at school. Always, always. Everytime, the teachers managed to find a way to connect the problem with her. Ugh.
She only used her powers when she had to. Otherwise, she forbid herself from thinking about it. But at night, alone in her room, she usually liked to move her books across the room. If she concetrated hard enough, she could make them fly. But after making an object hover an inch off of the ground, she would collaspe, exhausted.
The only thing Amy wasn't was normal. Nope. Not by a long shot. She got the nickname, "Freako", after she was arguing with a popular girl at school and she got so angry the girl lifted up by herself, flipped over, and was thrown agaisnt the wall, through the wall, and out of the building. Go ahead. Laugh, she would tell others. (Others that barely knew her and abonded her right after her story, of course.) But it's not funny. It was horrible. Even though there was no possible way that Amy "could have done it," everyone was still fairly sure that it was her. People said that she used wires. Others said that she had super-human strength. Well, she thought the first time she heard that rumor, That's warmer.
Amy looked over at the clock again. It read 3:49. She sighed. The nights took forever to pass, considering that she was always woken up, every day, ever since she was 5 years old. After she caused the mean girl's pigtails in kindergarden turn into actual pig-tails. Amy smiled for the first time in a while and closed her eyes.
This night might be different, she thought.
And so it was. But not in the way she expected.