A/N: Wow, chapter two, and it's only been one day! Talk about progress! Ehhhhh? Okay, I promise I'll stop doing that... for now.

Anyway, I only got one review, but that's good enough for me!

a.t, thank you so much for saying you like my story. It really helps.

Well, this chapter is juuuuuust over half of the length of the other one. Not as much dialogue because this character doesn't talk much... but I'll stop spoiling it for you. Enjoy!

Water

Christine's ebony hair licked at the sky in the summer breeze. She brought a hand up to tame it behind her ear as she thumbed through a book, sapphire eyes fixed on its pages, mind lost in silent reveries. Her complexion almost matched the ivory fountain she sat upon in the centre of town, with its chiselled yet soft mounds of clay perfectly formed to its master's will. She had the appearance of a goddess in the body of a small twelve-year-old girl.

Reluctantly she closed her book, sensing the nature of the hour. She knew that she had to be home at a set time. Her foster parents were very strict. They planned her every movement for her, and consequences for disobedience were always dire. Over the years she learned to numb herself from the abuse she received, both verbal and physical. There were days when the pain inflicted was almost too much to bear emotionally. Those days she would lock herself in her room for some time, without food or drink, and play and replay the song in her music box, given to her by her late grandmother, and long to be free. She knew that her parents were looking for her to show weakness, so she would hide how she felt until they were tired of looking, and only cry when it could be drown out by the sound of the music.

This particular day she had skipped the latter half of school, a decision she knew would cost her if ever she was found out, but a decision she had made time and again. Whenever she did this, she would erase the message left by her school about her absence before her parents got home from work. During her lunch hour one day, she had taken her things and travelled into the forest behind the building as she so often did and explored. She walked the beaten path through, but found a path where feet had not travelled before that lead up a small mountain. She decided to investigate, and after half an hour of walking was met with a beautiful scene.

There, in the midst of a clearing, was a small waterfall that poured into a stream, which twisted and wound about deeper into the forest. The water at the bottom of the fall bubbled and foamed. She could smell fresh wildflowers, sweet mountain air, and clear waters in the breeze. A fawn stood drinking at the foot of the falls. It was like a scene out of a fairy tale, and she took it all in for as long as she possibly could before descending back down to the city. She would keep this place as her own, would never share it with anyone except the wildlife.

Christine would do odd jobs for people. She would deliver bread to people's houses for the baker, would help the post man deliver messages on early mornings when she could successfully sneak unnoticed out of the house, and would donate books she'd read already to the library. She managed to gain enough money to purchase a ham and cheese sandwich on freshly baked rye from the bakery with a bottle of chocolate milk, rather than the pieces of toast and small milk that her foster parents would pack her for lunch. She felt she would have been better off at an orphanage than under their care, but it was not her choice to make. They kept up appearances when a social insurance agent would come by to make sure that the living environment was suitable for Christine. But, once they were gone, the abusive relationship resumed. She did not know how much longer it would be before her body crumpled under the stress and she gave up and passed on, but she knew it was either that, or survive to see the day she would no longer need the care of foster parents.

She packed the sandwich and the milk in her school bag and, when the lunch bell rang, she stealthily made her way out without being caught, hopped the fence, and headed off into the forest to her spot, where she would have a picnic and watch the birds flutter about playfully, the foxes scurry cleverly, and the fawns walk gracefully about. When she was finished, she went down to the fountain in the centre of the town and began to read.

Christine was not a very conversational sort of girl, but that would be expected if one only knew what went on behind the closed doors of the Evans' house. She kept mostly to herself, did all of her work out of worry for the consequences, and never spoke about her home life. She made the mistake of telling the principal about how she had received a bruise on her face when asked, and the principal took the matter directly to the parents. Christine's foster father, Darrel, explained that he had simply lost himself for but a moment, and that this was not their usual way of dealing with her. He had such a charismatic charm about him that it seemed all, including the principal, were persuaded to believe him no matter what he said. The bruise on Christine's face cleared up, but she got several more on other areas of her body that could not be seen so keenly by the public eye for having mentioned the matter at all, and it was never brought up again.

She arrived home at the same time as she usually did. When she turned around from having closed the door, the sight of Darrel made her jump with a start, and fear seized a tight hold of her features as she noticed his frown. She knew that something was about to happen.

"How was your day at school?" He asked her in a less-than-amused tone of voice.

"Fine," she said timidly. In a flash of lightning she was on the ground, clutching her cheek. He had backhanded her with such a force that it sent her tumbling to the floor, her head hitting the door. She took her hand from her face and, wide eyed, she noticed that there was a thin line of blood on it. She stared at him in horror. Normally she could contain her expressions, but the sight of him being home early was still freshly surprising.

"Do not lie to me," he said in the same calm tone he had before. Her head began to swim from the pain as if she'd been drugged. He picked her up by the hair now, and held her eye level with him. "Where were you!?" He was shouting now, and she winced as he spit the words on her face. She looked at him with drunken eyes, and saw something horrifyingly animal flicker in his eyes, and he rammed her head into the wall. "Where!" Slam! "Were!" Slam! "YOU!" Slam! He was no longer looking for an answer to his question, and he tossed her aside angrily, her body sliding against the hardwood flooring. Her hair was now covering her face as she tried to get up. He spoke again. "I give you food, I give you clothing, shelter, an education, and THIS--" he paused, his rage seemed to choke the words from his throat, "This is how you repay me? You'd be dead without me, and don't forget it. You scummy little insect." The hatefulness of his words stabbed her to the core, and she could feel her heart beginning to swell up with a strange new feeling. As he walked toward her, the feeling got more and more intense. It was like a mixture of bravery, anger, darkness, and something else. Something instinct. The words came out of her before she realized what was going on.

"Stay back." She said, but it was not fear that coloured her tone. It was warning, something like defiance.

"Developed a spine, have we?" He chuckled menacingly. "Well, that's fine then. It's no fun without a struggle." He inched closer to her, and something in the ceiling began to creak. Now her heart was racing wildly, her breathing shallow and quickened.

"I am warning you. Stay away from me." She said, and her irises began to glow a deep cerulean. She did not know who's voice she was hearing. It was not her own, though it without a doubt came from her throat. Darrel just laughed to himself, and the creaking got louder.

He picked her up once more by the hair and held her face close to his, though her head was down. "You're the dirt of the earth," he told her. She snapped her head up and met his eyes, and his face shifted from arrogant to fearful as he looked into her eyes. "What in the--"

The house gave out one long moan as the pipes burst open and water crashed through the ceiling, destroying everything in its wake. It gushed down the stairs and pounded him into the ground. The whole house became a sea of it, and Darrel lay on the floor like a rock, while Christine floated, still staring at him with her glowing eyes. She watched him struggle to get up, but an invisible force kept him from moving, and he writhed and whipped around, gasping for air but filling his lungs with only water. The red veins in his eyes seemed to become more prominent as the flood choked him to death, and he fell unconscious. All the while, Christine just watched him suffer, stone faced and unfazed. Finally, when she was sure that he was dead, the water burst the front double doors open and flooded the streets, nearby citizens gasping in shock and gathering to see what had happened.

Christine slowly floated down with the water. Her eyes stopped glowing, and she stared with contempt at the body on the floor. She had taken her first life. It was not an altogether pleasant feeling, but he had been her oppressor. And, although she did not feel a sense of release, she knew that now she was free.

A/N: So, what did you think? Good? Yes? No? I hope so. Water is my favourite element. Can you tell? hahaha

Well, I put off more homework to write this. I'm just not feeling my school work at the moment, which is really too bad considering that I have like... six overdue assignments? Yeah, reeeeaaally need to get my butt in gear, big time.

Well, enough about my life. Anyways, I can't promise that updates will always be this quick (they usually really aren't in the least. Maybe I'm just really into this elemental fantasy thing? Go figure...), but I will try to have chapter three up within the year! heh heh heh... (Spoiler!: This time's wind.)

Gotta go.