CHAPTER ONE

ESSENCE

I have never really liked people.

People are judgmental and rude. They never seem to have enough respect for you, the people you love, and things that are important to you. They are always "cooler" than you and they label you before you even have a chance to open your damn mouth. You could speak in Shakespearean tongues and they would never even know because before you have a chance to say hello they take one look and give you a label.

People judge me everyday. They judge me for my snowy white hair and piercing steely blue eyes. They judge me for the odd freckles that are splashed across my pixie nose and chubby cheeks. I haven't ever pbeen seen without a light blue choker with a snowflake charm wrapped around my neck or my mother's wedding ring placed onto my pinkie. I never wear long sleeves or long pants because I am never cold. I almost never speak because I am never heard. I am never happy because I have nothing left. I am secretly very lonely. But do I tell anyone? Of course not.

I guess if I wasn't carrying huge secrets around on my back, I would actually have something like a life. I would have friends, family who loved and cared for me, and I would finally be able to chase my dreams without being afraid of what or who I might hurt in the process.

My name is Essence Eirwen-Aurora. I am thirteen years old and I have the power to control and create ice and snow. The people like me — if there are any left in the world — are known as Manipulators.

I first figured out that I had the powers when I was in daycare when I was four. A boy was teasing me so I acted as if I was going to push him down. Instead, he became a full-sized statue of ice. Nobody could trace it back to me because all the sudden I was back and crying with the rest of the kids at the daycare. Nobody ever found out who it was to this day.

No one except for my mom.

My mom knew the struggle behind mastering the powers because she inherited them from her father. She sat me down that evening and started to explain everything.

"This is who you are." She cooed in a warm, buttery voice. "But it's a dangerous part of who you are. You must hide it. Understand, Essence?"

"But, Mommy." I protested. "I can build snowmen now! In summer! I can do cool stuff! Please, Mommy, please, please, please!"

"I'm sorry, my little pluen eira. But you can't tell anybody that you have these powers." She said calmly.

"So I can show them then?!" I said enthusiastically.

"No, that is even more dangerous." Mom sighed, obviously getting frazzled.

"Don't show. Don't tell. Aww, but I like show and tell!"

My mother chuckled and stroked my face. "You can use the powers at home, of course when Delilah isn't around."

My entire mind went blank. Delilah is my grandmother, and we're all afraid of her. She has hurt us in the past and continuously targeted me and my mom. Just because she is old, doesn't mean she can't kick ass. She uses special surgeries and creams to remain young-looking, and they work. She is mean, disrespectful, and a complete monster. I've witnessed everything she has done wrong. Everything from beating my mom up to ripping the heads off my dolls. But the worst thing she had done changed my life forever.

I had just turned five a few days prior. After being tucked into bed, I closed my eyes and relaxed. Delilah had gone out to visit my grandpa and the house felt silent and safe. I drifted off, purring and nuzzled up to my pillow.

A voice cut through my dreams and my eyes jolted open as my father scooped me up into his arms.

"Daddy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, sweetie. Just stay calm, okay?" He sounded desperate. "Everything will be okay soon." Not moments later did I fall out of his arms as the sound of a gunshot pierce through my ears. The bullet him in the back of his head and he fell to the floor, dropping me and making me cry.

My mom clutched her pregnant belly and guarded my one year old sister. I cried and cried. My mother fell to the floor as one bullet sank through her chest and I screamed as five more attacked her soon-to-be-delivered baby bump.

My little sister cried and a figure in a thin, black cloak strolled past me, swept her up into her arms and began to rock her in her arms. Asphodel immediately stopped fussing. She put a fist in her mouth and slobbered, babbling and cooing.

And then the figure turned to face me. Delilah wore tight black pants and a form-fitting black top with ruffles. There was a holster hooked onto her belt and she slid the pistol into it firmly. Her blonde-dyed hair hung in loose waves over her shoulders and the whole thing was shrouded in a lacy black cloak. She cradled my baby sister in the curve of her arm and I noticed a snowflake tattoo on her wrist. One grey, one black, with a white one sandwiched in the middle. The symbol of—

"Quit your crying, brat." Delilah hissed. "You knew that it was gonna happen." She grabbed Asphodel and fled the scene, breaking out the window. I sat there sobbing and holding my baby sister until the police arrived. By then, my head hurt and I was very sleepy. I fell asleep at the police station in someone's swivel chair. Baby Asphodel was gone and the police were looking everywhere and they were trying to figure out what happened. I could have told them but I had sworn to myself to never speak again.

Nowadays I attend Boston Middle School up in Massachusetts. I am shy and reserved and I have no friends. I'm kind of a hopeless case if you haven't already seen.

I get bullied by my peers and beaten by Delilah. How she hasn't gone to prison yet, I don't know. Someday soon everything will change. The world, the lives of everybody, society… I will be free to be who I want, when I want, however I want. No more pain, no more suffering. This will turn into the perfect world.

I have feeling will start with me or someone like me.