CHAPTER ONE: Powerless
Up until the last day of school in the fifth grade, Rebecca Mitchell, or, as she preferred, Beca, always assumed that she was weak. She felt this way because Mira and most of the other girls had told her so, and because she would never really talk about what she wanted from other people, or out of life. And it wasn't until that fateful day where she finally saw herself for who she really was.
It started out the same as every other day. Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, comb hair, wash face, eat breakfast, and get on the bus to school. While on the bus, the obligatory spitball to her head, courtesy of Mira, was present, but, in contrast to the first fifty times that it happened, she was completely used to it.
The day that preceded was fairly normal. It started with them reading the last chapter of the book they were reading, and continued with a lesson about math for an hour or so, and was followed by presentations of their art projects. Beca brought a painting of the sunrise she had so desperately wished to see in order to get a perfect portrait. When she presented it to the class, only a handful of people, which included her teacher and friends Diana and Bradley, applauded her for being one of the few people who took the project seriously, as well as being one of the only people who truly had an eye for artistry. This earned her extra spitballs to the head at lunch, again, courtesy of Mira, only this time, they were unexpected.
It wasn't until afterwards, recess, where things took a turn for the worse. Beca was listening to her iPod, which she had received for her birthday the previous year, and sitting on the swingset, quiet as a mouse. Then, Mira and her posse came over, and smirked when looking down upon her. "Hey, Mitchell." Noticing who had come over, Beca took the headphones out of her ears, and looked up at Mira. "Hi, Mira." She said, bleakly. "Hey, um, Mitchell, I have a question: is your Mom a whore?" Mira asked, her smirk growing. "Excuse me?" Beca asked. "You heard me. I said it very clearly, didn't I?" She asked with a sickeningly sweet voice. And all Beca could do was look down at the ground. "It doesn't seem like I'm getting much of a response, so I'll ask one more time, this time a little more slowly. So. Is. Your. Mom. A whore?" She asked again, still using that fake voice. "Oh, right. I forgot. Your Mommy left you, probably to give her body to other men and women. Sorry." She said, feigning sweetness. Then, she and the other girls begin to laugh at Beca, making tears fall slowly down her cheeks.
As she and the other girls laughed and began to walk away, Beca mumbled, "At least my Mother loved me." And, despite how low her voice was, Mira still heard it, and stopped dead in her tracks. Then, she turned around, went over to Beca, and smiled a fake smile. "What was that?" She asked, knowing full well what Beca said. "I said, 'at least my Mother loved me". Are you happy to hear that? Besides, all of us know that your Mother only cares about your looks, and that she doesn't care about you in the least. I may not have have a Mother who lives with me, but at least I have a Mother who loved me. Can you say the same for yourself?" Beca said, anger oozing through her every word.
Then, unexpectedly, Mira slapped Beca across the face with the back of her hand, only for her hand to feel an intense pain and a shattering of all the bones in it. Mira began screaming, and bleeding. She fell to the ground, crying. All of the other children came to see what happened. And soon enough, a teacher came to see what had just occurred. "Mira! What happened?" The teacher asked, as she went to Mira's side to see what was wrong with her. "She tried to slap me. And then, she just started bleeding and crying." Beca said, unaware of why Mira was really crying.
The teacher found it highly unlikely that, if Mira was the one who was slapping Beca, she'd be the one in pain. So, she had Beca go to the principal's office as Mira was getting her hand looked at. The principal had called her father, and he arrived as quickly as possible. When he spoke with both the principal and Mira's parents, who, despite being very angry, decided not to press charges against Beca, he immediately ushered her into his car, and drove home in almost complete silence, scaring her even more than before.
When they got back to their home, he told her, "Go. Wait for me in the living room." Beca did as she was told, and waited, for what seemed like hours, sitting on the couch, afraid of all the possible punishments she believed she would receive. Then, when her Father got in, he sat next to her on the couch. "Beca… why did Mira try to slap you?" He asked, patiently. Beca looked down, afraid of what could happen if she told the truth. "It's alright, Beca. You're not in trouble. I just want to know what happened." Dr. Mitchell said, calming Beca down a little bit. Beca sighed, and said, "I told her that her Mom didn't love her." Dr. Mitchell's eyes widened upon hearing this. "What? Why would you say that?" He asked. "Because she asked if my Mother was a whore." She responded, bluntly, but also with a hint of sadness.
Dr. Mitchell's facial expression began to match Beca's: a frown. "You know that's not true, right?" He asked. "Of course I do. But Dad, when she hit me, why was she the one that got hurt, and not me?" She said to her Father with curiosity.
Dr. Mitchell sighed, and closed his eyes. "I always knew that this day would come. The day where you'd find out. I just didn't hope it would happen like this." He said. "Find out what?" She asked. "Dad? DAD!"
Beca Mitchell woke up, drenched in sweat, and no longer a young girl who was bullied. Now, she was a soon-to-graduate university student, and captain of the Barden Bellas, also known as the most hated Acapella group in a long time.
She hadn't thought about what had happened that day in a long time. All her Father told her then was that she wasn't like anyone else on Earth. She was… different, so to speak. She didn't need to get on a plane to fly somewhere, she could do that herself. Her skin was basically impervious to any and all things, including a nuclear blast. And she would eventually stop aging, to walk the Earth forever.
Author's Note: And here we go! This may or may not be published as much because of Grayson, which I really want to devote my time and energy to, but I'll see what I can do! Anyways, you know the drill: read, review, and take care!