I'd like to say I have a pretty normal life, but that would be a lie. My life is the farthest thing from normal. First of all my dad isn't even around, which when you think about it, really isn't that uncommon. Secondly, my mother is a crack whore. And finally; I have these really odd powers per say. What are these powers? Well, firstly I can control peoples emotions. And I can sort of levitate things. But I'm quite horrid at that since I don't stay focused long enough on the object I lift into the air. So then it drops and it pisses me off because I cannot concentrate.
I guess I should start explaining some about myself. My name is Aurelia and im fifteen. I live in a boring place called Nebraska. It's horrible and boring. I live with my mother and my twin brother Paul. Yeah, I got the awesome name. I have black hair and greenish gray eyes. Im not what people would consider tall since im 5'3 and a half. And let me tell you this it's really annoying having a 6 foot tall brother who always calls you shorty ..
Aurelia my mom screamed up the stairs at me. I groaned and rolled over looking at my alarm clock, it read 6:45 a.m. I sighed. What could she possibly be wanting at this time of day I asked myself. But I got up anyway to make sure she wasn't lying on the floor hurt since she's probably been snorting crack or however you take that stuff.
I slowly made my way down the stairs since I wasn't fully awake. A trip to the hospital wouldn't make my day any better. When I finally got down the stairs (without any injuries btw) I sped up my pace some. "Mom" I called. She responded by saying she was in the kitchen. Just as I suspected, she was injured. Her hand had a deep gash with blood flowing out of her open wound freely. I shuddered. If there was one thing I couldn't stand it was blood. I suppressed another shudder and went to get the first aid kit. "Mom were going to have to go to the hospital because you're hand is more than likely going to need stitches" I said in the calmest voice I could at the moment. My mother like me hates hospitals. But who really likes them? They're are sick people there. And also people die there everyday. "No !"my mom shrieked. She probably didn't want to go for two reasons. Reason number one. She was scared shless of hospitals and reason number two. She was high . I sighed to calm down. I don't like controlling peoples emotions but my mother was high and screaming and my brother Paul was running down the stairs to see what was going on down stairs.
I quickly breathed in and concentrated on my mother calming down. It took a few seconds to work but the next thing I know my mom is passed out in the kitchen chair. Less than ten seconds later Paul was in the kitchen looking at the scene in revulsion. "Let me guess she hurt herself while she was high again?" I sighed. "Yes. We need to get her to a hospital because her pulse is slowing down and she has lost a lot of blood and she need's stitches since she cut her hand." Paul sighed. "Let's get dressed and then we'll take her." I nodded my head.
At the hospital
We arrived thirty minutes later and we rushed in with our mother in Paul's arms. The doctor looked at us and motioned for us to follow him to a room. "We'll need to know what happened" he said. So I started to explain. I didn't want to tell the doctor that my mom was addicted to crack, but I think he already knew and was waiting for either Paul or I to admit to him what he was thinking. I stole a glance at Paul asking him with my eyes if I should tell him and he nodded his head yes. I once again sighed. We told him everything excluding the part about my special abilities. He gave us a sympathetic look and started dialing on the phone in his office. Fifteen minutes later two cops came to the hospital to take my mother away when she woke up and explained things to Paul and I. We were going to be put in a foster home until we either turned eighteen or we got adopted. At first we objected. Who ever adopted more than one foster child just because? That pretty much never happened or maybe it did. I never really thought about it before or looked into the statistics of it happening. But why should I? Sure I didn't have the best mother but she loved me and Paul and that's all that mattered to me. But know I wished I looked into it. I mean my mother is addicted to crack. I should of known if anyone found out and reported her we would be taken away but I didn't and now I'm scared. What if I get adopted and dare I say it my brother doesn't, then what? He was my wall, my strength. He always helped me when I needed it. He was my best friend. He was the only one that knew my secret. Not even our mother knew about them and I told her everything.
I didn't realize it but I had completely zoned out because I was awoken by mother screaming and crying not to be taken away. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes and I think some did. Paul quickly pulled me into a hug and whispered comforting words in my ear. A few minutes later my sobbing mother was being escorted out of the hospital by the cops. I quickly jumped off of Paul and ran to her "Mommy please I don't want you to go!" I said sobbing. "Aurelia I don't want to go either! I love you so much and I love Paul too. I wished I never even started using with you're father" she said still hugging me. I sniffled. I was still clinging to her like my life depended on it. The cops had to pull me off and get a security guard to restrain me from running after my mother again. People were staring. And I suddenly realized we were still in the hospital and not our quite home. I didn't care though. I didn't care if they thought my whole family was crazy or that they were looking at us in contempt and some in sympathy. All I knew is that my mother was gone and all I had left was Paul and a foster home waiting for me.
Three years later
I was standing at my mothers grave with Paul next to me. My mother died two months after she was taken to jail from heart failure. When I got the news I was hanging out with some of my new friends in Florida with Paul and my boyfriend Alex. At first I thought my foster parents were joking but I saw the grave looks on their faces and knew they weren't lying. I cried and ran to my room and wouldn't come out of my room for a month. I wouldn't even eat.
I must of scared my "parents" senseless because once Paul unlocked my door and dragged me out half passed out my new mother Anne started crying at the site of me and her husband Jack looked shocked and immediately took me to the emergency room.
I looked solemnly at my mothers grave and a few tears slid down my face. Alex (who was with Paul and I) must have noticed because he quickly pulled me into a hug. "It's ok" he whispered. "She's in a better place now she doesn't have any more stress and she doesn't have to spend the rest of her life in jail." I just nodded my head. Paul was being quite which wasn't unusual. "I think we should go know. After all, we've been here an hour." I sighed. "You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up with you in a few minutes. They didn't say or do anything. They just turned around and started heading to the car we came in. "I miss you mommy and I love you even though you're not here." I put down a single Lilly. Her favorite flower. As I turned to leave I heard a voice whisper "I love you to Aurelia I always have and will." I smiled. I would be okay.