A/N: I decided to post this. In bits of course. I'll probably won't finish it like my other stories, but i'll try. I'll try very very hard. ^^
Being Scared Isn't An Option
A slight nudge between my ribs made my eyes flutter open. Still a bit dizzy I try to take in my surroundings. Seems like the worlds turns after all. I chuckle out of nowhere and let out a sudden burp.
"You know you're way too young to drink, young lady." A deep male voice says near my right ear. "It's time to go to bed."
Someone grabs some sort of bottle, which I didn't know I was holding, out of my hand. With two strong arms I'm being lifted from the ground. He manages to pick me up just like that. I try to snap my fingers, but no sound follows. I look at my hand, but I'm not even able to keep it still. In fact, I'm not even able to focus on my right hand.
"Where are you actually taking me?" I notice I'm slurring a bit, so I quickly stop talking and leave a confused expression on my face.
"Home."
He leads me up the stairs in the back and then opens the door to a little room. It's only filled with a bed, a table and a closet, filled with only a few clothes. My clothes. Tired I let myself fall on the bed. I don't even take off my clothes.
He, as kind as he is, brings me to bed, as if I'm still a toddler. After he covered me with the blanket he places a soft kiss on my fore head.
"No matter what, I'll always take care of you. Don't you ever forget."
I smile up to him, but my eyes already fall lazily shut. Soon enough I'm in a deep sleep.
[Noises from downstairs weren't heard. Muffled groans not understood and a gun shot not evident. She didn't know any of it. She shouldn't know any of it. She probably didn't even want to know any of it. He made sure she wouldn't be involved in any of it. He made sure she stayed safe. It was to late for his own, but not for her. He'd protect her with his own life, like he tried to protect his own.]
A bird was loudly singing outside. He chose to sit, of all places he could sit, in front of my window. My window. I lift my hand and make a fist. With a bang it lands on the window. The bird wisely shuts up.
I rub my eyes and stretch my arms. I look to my right and see next to my bed, on the little table, a glass. I grab it and take a sip.
He always does that. When I wake up, he makes sure there's something to drink or to eat. I smile to myself and take another sip.
That's when the bloody bird decides to sing again. As quiet as possible I open the window. With one flick of the wrist I make a sparkling blue ball of electricity in the palm of my hand. It took me days, precious hours and at least thousand cans of soda to learn that, but luckily it paid off. Especially now. I've never really tried it on a living thing before, actually.
I throw the ball unexpectedly towards the little bird.
It hits him in the chest. His eyes widen and he freezes for a moment. I grin to myself. I know it's bad, but there's some beauty to it. The way his eyes widen in shock. The way he just lets his wings fall down defeated. The way he tries to tilt his head at me with those big sad eyes.
If you could see it, you'd agree. Then as a light feather the bird falls backwards and falls down. He just doesn't land as a feather. He actually lands a bit harshly.
"Guess what. I already know what we're eating for dinner." I say proud of myself. I know it's sad. I know it was bad of me to kill that little innocent bird. But you've got to admit. He was annoying me, and this gave me the perfect opportunity to test my, I take in a dramatic breath,
My:
"Ball Of Doom!"
I exclaim. An evil laughter, that I've been practicing for the past few days, follows.
Daddy doesn't really likes it when i use my powers. He knows I need to learn to control my powers and know every little aspect about it, but he doesn't think I should use it that often. He says we need to be as normal as we can be. He loves me. I know that. I love him too, but I'd like to do something with my powers. Why should I sit home all day? I can do something good. I can change the world for the better. "And I can kill all the annoying birds" I say under my breath.
"Don't you agree birdie?" I yell at the bird, my head hanging outside the window. I stare downstairs and the bird just stares up. Right at me. He doesn't do anything. Nothing. Obviously, because he is dead, but I still don't like it.
"Boring!" I shout.
I jump up and down, on my bed, like a spoiled child who doesn't get what she wants. I saw it a little kid do the other day when we were in the supermarket. He wanted an ice cream and his mother denied. When he started doing this, I jump up and down again, she, the mother, immediately jumped up and bought him one. Maybe this bird will jump up as well to give me what I want.
A few minutes later I'm tired and is it clear the damn bird isn't about to move.
Quickly I gulp down my glass of milk and I run downstairs.
[He had to go in the middle of the night. She didn't know. He didn't want her to know. He was out there while she was sound a sleep. His plan to come back before she would be awake failed. He didn't have enough time to get the job done. He had to finish things before coming back. Otherwise she wouldn't be safe. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to protect her the way he wants to. She was used to it by now. He disappeared, she'd wake up alone. He'd be back and she made sure there was food. It was some kind of ritual.]
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