I will battle for the sun
And I won't stop until I'm done
You are getting in the way
And I have nothing left to say
*The story was inspired by various TV shows, movies and books.*
**WITH AN ORIGINAL STORYLINE WRITTEN BY ME.**
;)
I was different. Big deal. I understood that. But that didn't give people the right to stare at me like I was a genetic mutation. The entire class I felt as if all eyes were on me, including the professor's, and not in a good way. I could feel their eyes burning holes in my back. When the bell chimed, I rose to my feet and darted out of the room. I decided keeping my eyes to the floor would be best, until my body collided with a student passing by.
"Sorry," I gave an apologetic smile, though I was sure they were glaring. If looks could kill. I made my way through the hall, now packed tight with students.
I walked into the class just as the bell rang, feeling my stomach churn as all eyes fell on the freaky new girl. I was so relieved it was the last class, though I knew it wouldn't be any easier than the rest.
"Ah, you must be Ms. Halliwell." The teacher, Mr. Scott, smiled as he took attendance. I gave him a nod. I was too nervous to speak. "Take a seat, would you? Any open desk is free." I began walking to a table in the back of the class, slowing as he spoke. "And Ms. Halliwell," he didn't continue until I turned to look at him. "Welcome to Current Events."
Mr. Scott wasn't a horrible teacher. He actually talked to me like I was a normal student. Just another face in the crowd. I couldn't say the same for the rest of the class. I ignored them as best as I could. For most of the class I doodled in my notebook, rather than taking notes for the upcoming exam. It's not like it mattered anyway. I wouldn't stay long. My foster family would get tired of me and ship me off.
I wrote the word FAMILY on the page and scribbled over it until it tore the paper.
"Having a bad day?" I jumped at the sound of his voice. He sat down in the seat next to me, wearing a crooked grin that could melt anyone's heart. I may have been a witch, but I was still a teenager. I was more than interested in boys.
"You could say that." My cheeks flushed as I closed my notebook.
"Logan, do you have a pass?" Mr. Scott was standing over our desk/table, interrupting our conversation... if you could call it that. He shifted in his chair and reached into his pocket, pulling out a bright pink pass. He handed it over to Mr. Scott with a smug smile on his face. I usually call it the "up yours" expression. Either way, it made me smile.
Mr. Scott walked away mumbling-clearly feeling defeated-and I bit my bottom lip to stifle laughter.
"I'm not exactly his favorite student." Logan shrugged, his grin twisting into a sarcastic frown.
"Hey, it happens." I was impressed that I could get my voice to sound so sympathetic. I mentally high-fived myself. Maybe I should be an actress. Nah, I'm not that good. The rest of the class, I sat in silence. Every once in a while I would glance in Logan's direction. His enticing eyes would catch mine. I could feel the heat rushing to my face as I averted my eyes.
The bell cut through the small room, echoing in the hallway. Everybody stood and filed out of the room. I waited until I was the last one to pack up my things.
"Do you have a minute, Lucy?" I looked up to see Mr. Scott standing next to my desk. "I'd like to speak with you. It wont take long."
"Sure. What about?" I was irritated, but it wouldn't kill me to be polite.
"The boy sitting next to you, Logan Mercer, he's a bad influence. You've got great potential. He doesn't. It would be in your best interest to steer clear from him." Was he serious? Already trying to control me. Wow, this school sucked.
"I think I can handle myself, Mr. Scott." I pulled my books off the desk, giving him my best bitch face before exiting the room.
"Lucinda, dinner's ready!" A very chipper voice sounded from the staircase. I closed my laptop, walking slowly down the steps and into the kitchen. The dinner table was covered with plates and silverware, with a vase filled of white roses as a center piece. On the stove was a strainer full of spaghetti noodles and a pot full of spaghetti sauce and meatballs.
Gloria, my current foster mother, approached me with a large smile. "We heard that spaghetti was your favorite." She pulled out a chair and gestured to the seat.
"Well, you heard right." I sat, looking down at my already-made plate. I couldn't stand people doing things for me. I'm perfectly capable of getting my own food. This time, however, I decided to let it slide. After all, it was only her first official night with me. They'd catch on eventually.
"Is something the matter, Lucinda?" Gloria finished the last of her spaghetti. I hardly ate mine. I spun my fork around in a heap of noodles, keeping silent for at least a minute before responding.
With an overly dramatic sigh, I let the fork fall to the plate. "I just... I think I need some fresh air. You wouldn't mind if I take a short walk, would you?" I batted my long, dark eyelashes at her, hoping my puppy dog face would work.
"Sure you can, sweetheart." She smiled. "Just don't stay out too late."
"Thanks." Free, at last. Without hesitation, I grabbed my sweatshirt and bolted out the door.
I didn't mind staying in the house, mostly because it was huge and they had internet, but Gloria was annoying. Her and her husband, Rex, live in the mansion all by themselves, though Rex always works until three in the morning. They're both in their mid-thirties. Neither of them can produce a child, which I where I fit into the mix. The witch with the ability to raise the dead.
I was abandoned by my mother before I could even walk. Pam, my social worker, told me that she left me on the doorstep to the foster home, but I know better. She probably dumped me on the side of the road, with nothing more than a cardboard box to keep my dry.
When I was seven, I remembered watching debates on TV about the pros and cons of the supernatural society living equal lives with humans. At the time, there weren't many people for supernaturals. By the time I was eleven, a law passed stating that all supernaturals would be treated just as humans are. Thankfully, for me, because that was also the year that I first used my ability.
I had a little beagle named Rags who died of old age. I remember standing over his grave, crying so hard that my nose actually started bleeding. I wished so badly that he'd come back. That's exactly what happened. The next morning he was lying on the front porch, covered in dirt.
I tried resurrecting after that, but it didn't work. It took a few tries before I realized what I was doing wrong; I needed fresh blood. Once I found the missing ingredient, I began using my gift as a source of income. If someone wanted me to raise an animal, I would slice my arm open and bring it back to life. But the longer the animal had been dead, the more blood I would need to bring it back. So instead of self-sacrifice, I began stealing chickens from farms anywhere near the home that I was staying in.
They worked perfectly, though I did feel guilty killing an animal to resurrect someone's dead dog or cat or rabbit. At first. It got easier after a while.
One night, I broke into the farm without realizing that the farmer was still feeding all of the animals. He caught me with a chicken in my hand, and a blade in the waistband of my jeans. Before returning to the foster home, I was forced to spend the night in a juvenile home. I sat through a lecture about how wrong it is to kill innocent animals for pleasure. First, I'm not a psycho. I don't get off on watching a chicken bleed out. Second, I didn't enjoy one moment of the time I spent killing them. It was messy, no matter what I did.
I remembered all of the times I had to rinse off in a spring before going back to my foster parents. Imagining the expression on Gloria's face if she saw me covered in blood made me smile. Although that wouldn't be very nice of me. Both Gloria and Rex know that I'm a witch, and they still took me in. I can't deny that they're good people. They're two of the few people who fought for the rights of supernaturals from the very beginning.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to raise a little hell every once in a while.
The wind picked up, whipping my hair in my eyes. I tucked thick locks behind my ears and pulled my jacket tighter around my body and moved on, keeping up a steady pace. Every once in a while a wave of insecurity would pass through me and I'd scan the trees. I just couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me.
Finally, I decided to start back to Gloria's house. It was well past 9:00, which meant it was getting darker by the minute. She told me to return before dusk. Of course I wouldn't listen. Hey, maybe she'd try to ground me.
The snap of a twig off in the distance interrupted my train of thought. I did a slow 360 spin to look around me. "Come on, Lucy. It was just a deer, I promise." For the record: I absolutely suck at comforting myself.
The clap of my sneakers on the road gradually got faster. I was sure that the house was right around the corner. As soon as it came into view, my heart sputtered in relief. But it was too early to celebrate. A calloused hand clamped over my mouth. A van sped up to the side of the road and I was shoved into the back, where a new set of hands roped me to the seat and pressed the barrel of a rifle to the back of my head. The driver's identity was hidden with a black ski mask. I couldn't keep myself from laughing. The whole situation was so cliche. A girl walking alone at night is abducted by a bunch of gun toting idiots. Wearing ski masks. That was the best part.
The man with the rifle tried speaking through my fit of hysterical giggles. "What the fuck is so funny?" He pushed the barrel into the back of my neck.
"I feel like I've stepped into a tacky action movie. Let me guess, you're going to take me to your private hide-out, force me to talk into a camera, and make my parents pay a hefty ransom to get me back."
"That would work if you had parents. We know who you are, what you do. We will put an end to it. To all supernaturals." My stomach tightened. I didn't speak another word. No one did until the van was parked.
The rope around my waist loosened. The man carrying the gun opened the door and dragged me outside. I knew where we were. I've never been here, until tonight. But I saw this exact field in the news papers. Frankfort, Kentucky had been known the past few weeks for the increasingly high unsolved missing persons reports. This field was where one of the bodies turned up. A young girl, not yet five. She had been beaten to death.
"You idiots killed that little girl." I couldn't control my anger. I never could.
"She wasn't the only one. She sure as shit wont be the last." I balled my hands into fists and looked at each of the men. Three overweight, idiotic psychos. The man with the rifle was closest. I knew I had to do something, or else I would die.
"Go to hell." I dropped to the ground and kicked the man's kneecap. When he doubled over I sprinted toward the trees. A gunshot went off. I heard the bullet as it zipped past my head.
"Get the bitch!" I didn't dare look back to see how close they were. I almost made it. Just two feet before the line of trees, one of the men tackled me. I tried pulling myself into the woods, but his hands wrapped around my ankles. He violently hauled me across the field. I could feel the stones in the damp earth scrape my stomach as I brushed against them.
Another voice: the man with the rifle. He held his weapon like a bat, striking my side with the thick wooden butt of it.
I rolled onto my back, keeping my gaze up at the stars. Even when the man held the barrel just inches from my face. "You deserve this. Every last one of ya." I was too tired to care anymore. The man's finger slid to the trigger. I closed my eyes, hoping that I wouldn't feel any pain. The sound of a pack of wild dogs off in the distance delayed my execution.
The angry snarling and howling progressively became louder. They were closing in. I could hear rustling in the trees, as well as twigs snapping under the weight of their bodies. Finally, an abnormally large, misshapen dog ascended through the depth of the forest. It stood from shoulder to paw at around four feet, it's length from snout to tail somewhere around seven or eight feet. The canines protruding from its mouth had to be at least three inches long. The dog looked emaciated. Every bone in its body was perfectly visible.
The smell of decomposition hit me like a freight train. I pinched my nostrils together, refusing to take in the horrible smell any longer.
I lay still as one of the dogs from the pack approached me. It stood over me in a very dominant and aggressive stance. A low growl erupted from the animal's chest. As I caught its eye, I noticed the red pigmentation in the iris. The dog back away, rerouting itself to the men who tried to kill me. There had to be 7 identical dogs in the field, all surrounding the men. Each dog lowered itself to the ground. An ear-splitting howl from one of the creatures sent a very obvious signal to the others: attack. They leaped forward, sinking the large teeth and claws into any part of the three men they could grab a hold of.
I watched in terror as the men were torn to pieces by the blood-thirsty animals. The sounds of tearing flesh were gag-inducing.
Grips like fishhooks jammed under my armpits. I was caught and hoisted to my feet. Before I could get a glimpse of the person who helped me, he broke out into a dead sprint, dragging me along behind him. We broke through an opening to a smaller field, in which a large Jeep Wrangler was idling. He impatiently pushed me up into the passenger seat before climbing into the vehicle himself.
The jeep lurched forward, as we sped down a man-made dirt road in the middle of the field.