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Chapter Two: The Dream
Dark… that's the first word that comes to mind as my eyes flutter open and I close my eyes again. With a heavy sigh I sit up, cringing as my back pops. The rock is warm from where I had slept on it, but the night air is bitter cold. There is a bite to the wind that nips at my face and neck, and the leaves blow into my face. I stretch my legs and arms and yawn. I look around for a moment… and then the panic sets in. Where am I, I think. What… where did I go. What?
I look around again and feel instantly stupid. I'm at the construction site. I resist the urge to slap myself, and instead stand up and begin the tiresome journey of walking up the damn hill and going home. Hopefully Kathleen won't be there and I'll only have to deal with Tom.
Kathleen is Tom's girlfriend. She's a busty brunette with a slim waist, eight inch heels, and an IQ so low that its ten feet underground. Kathleen only wears the latest fashion trends and the designer clothes, with accessories to match. Her hair is long and straight, something I envy but will never admit. She's tall and her heels make her look like a walking, talking skyscraper. Her defined facial features just complete the whole package; gorgeous, feminine, and dumb. Who could ask for more?
I trudge the rest of the way up the hill and towards my house. My stomach grumbles, deprived of the nutritional value of a good pizza and a Coke or two. I give in to my stomachs pleading and hurry the rest of the way home, praying that Tom saved me a slice or two of the pepperoni. The red monstrosity Kathleen calls a car is gone and I sigh in relief, walking inside the house without a problem. The lights are all off except for the one in the entrance way, the house is slightly cold, and the familiar scent of Tom's old cologne lingers in the air mixed with the strong rose petal smell of Kathleen's perfume. I stride into the kitchen, turning lights on as I go, and find a box of pizza waiting for me on the counter with a small, pink sticky note on the top.
Tom and I are going out tonight, Sweetheart. We're going dancing. Don't wait up.
And then signed at the bottom was her large, looping signature dotted with three small hearts. I gagged at the sweetheart part; I had told her the first time I met her, about two months ago, that I didn't like nicknames. Ever since, she tries a new pet name for me, giving me an unattractive eye twitch. I crumble the note and throw it towards the trashcan (I miss by a long shot, but I wasn't really looking, okay?) and open the box. My stomach growls louder, yelling at me for a warm slice of pizza.
There's nothing in the box. My poor stomach bubbles in pure agony and despair and my eye starts to twitch and my short fingernails dig into my palms.
"Kathleen…" I sneer and push the stupid box away. I decide that I'm not that hungry anyway and I walk upstairs to my room, my little sanctuary. I plop myself on the bed, my arms crossed over my small, but okay sized chest. "Who needs Kathleen? Little no good… stuck up, narcissistic idiot." I mutter. A warm sensation starts in my palms as I think of all the horrible things I should do to get revenge on the brunette. That always happens when I'm angry or in suspense, even sometimes when I'm scared or being over protective of Tom or Chris. The palms of my hands just heat up until my hands get all sweaty and I feel like a dweeb. I asked Tom about it once, but all he did was give me a curious, stony faced glance and didn't say a word. Two days later, I wake up to find a large book that said;
Oh My Gosh! What's Wrong with My Body? A girl's guide to puberty.
We never talked about the hand predicament again.
I go change into my pajamas, long pants and a t-shirt, and crawl underneath the soft, fluffy blankets and sheets on my bed. I check my phone in case Chris or Tom have called, but I guess Chris just gave up trying to talk to me and Tom was too busy smooching it up with Kathleen. The thought that they could both just ignore me hurts a little, but I know Chris is just giving me space and Tom is doing what most men would do if they had a girlfriend that looked like Kathleen; stare at her boobs.
Tom is lucky, I suppose. He has a girlfriend that could pass for a model, a bitchy girlfriend but still a girlfriend. He has me as his daughter, a joyous, innocent kid that any parent would be grateful to have (Note the sarcasm), and he has money but he doesn't act like it.
Chris is lucky too. He's smart, athletic , and one chemistry class explosion away from getting a scholarship to any college he wants. He has me, a joyous, innocent kid as a best friend that any other kid would be grateful to have as a best friend (Note even more sarcasm), and he has loving parents.
But man, do I hate Kathleen. I hate her so much, I would feed her to sharks if I got the chance and watch with pleasure… okay, maybe that's a little extreme, but you at least understand how much I dislike her.
I closed my eyes and imagined punching Kathleen in the face multiple times. It put a smile on my face and I fall asleep…
A girl with red hair as scarlet as blood looked into her daughter's green eyes. Her own eyes were filled with tears, crystal drops of joy as she rocked her child to sleep in her arms.
"She's gorgeous just like her mom," A deep voice whispered in the girl's ear. She shivered and smiled brightly up at the owner of the voice. Said owner was a boy, who looked barely eighteen. He had golden blonde hair that shined like the sun in the white hospital-like room, and golden, amber eyes that reminded the girl of honey and golden bricks. The girl looked around the boy's age, but was very short. Her hair was fiery and contrasted with his in a pleasant way. Her head fit perfectly against his chest. "Her eyes are just like yours."
"Yes, but she'll have your hair." The girl breathed happily. He smiled.
"And how do you know that?" She shrugged her shoulders and gave a loving look down at her daughter.
"I just have a feeling." The boy gave her a tender kiss on the forehead. The small child in her arms gave a soft cooing sound, absolutely captivated with her parents' show of affection. Her skin was still red and very wrinkly, but it was soft and smooth to the touch. The baby closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of her parents. "She's going to do great things." Her mother said after a moment of admiring silence.
The boy chuckled, "Is this another feeling?" She shook her head.
"No, I can tell. I don't know how or why, but I just know that she's going to do something great… greater than anything we've ever done or greater than any one, for that matter." The child in her arms snuggled deeper into her mother's chest, and her father could have sworn he saw her smile.
"Did you see that?" He asked, staring intently at his daughter. The girl just nodded, her still watering eyes admiring and never leaving her daughter's face. "She's beautiful… but she's going to be so-"
"Arrogant?" The girl finished for him. "Stubborn? Yeah, she'll get it from her father." She laughed and he did too. They didn't know it, but their daughter would remember their musical laughter for years to come.
It went dark.
The golden haired man slammed his fists on the table, unbeknownst to him that his daughter was crying in the corner of the room as her mother held her. The man on the other side of the table gave him a repulsed look, one that clearly said that he was the boss not the young blonde boy.
"You will not take my child from me!" The boy yelled.
"You have no choice; the Clave demands it." The man said. The boy's jaw clenched.
"I don't give a damn what the Clave demands," He hissed and the older of the two widened his eyes. "This is my child, my daughter and I will not let you have her. I'm her father!"
"And don't you think that being her father you should give her a better life?" The man asked, walking around the table, dark robes billowing behind him. "She's dangerous; all children are, but her more so. She has powers that the Clave have only dreamt of Shadowhunters having! You don't know what could happen to her if you're not careful."
"I will protect her until the day I die, I swear to you that." The boy said with venom in his voice. The man seemed to find this amusing.
"You'll protect her? A measly boy, not even eighteen, who makes it a habit of putting himself and his loved ones in danger, will protect a child that has more power and strength in her entire being than you do even with the still remaining traces heavenly fire in your blood?" The man laughed a booming sound that echoed in the room. "Jace Lightwood, the Clave has dealt with you for years. You are young and foolish, and too proud. Your arrogance will be the end of you."
"She is my daughter and I love her! You will not take her away!" The boy, Jace, was red in the face and his eyes were shiny. "I don't care if the Clave comes for me, I don't care if they come for her. I will not let her become one of your brainwashed fools who think that power is all there is." The man took offense to this and scoffed.
"Jace Lightwood," He sneered and a vicious glint was in his eyes. "Where is your younger brother, Max? I would love to speak with him, to see how he's doing. The Clave hasn't seen him in a while." Jace lunged at him, but his father-in-law held him back, anger at the man before him in his eyes. The man widened his eyes in fake surprise. "Oh wait! He's not here, is he? I forgot that he's been dead for almost two years now… if you could not take care of him, your brother, then what makes you think you can take care of a newborn?" The child in her mother's arms wriggled and sobbed loudly, howling in despair. She wanted her father.
"I… I…" Jace couldn't think of anything to say. He wanted to lunge at the man and take that knife in his pocket and-
"You have until the third of November, Lightwood." The man said, dusting off his robes and beginning to walk to the door. "By then the child must be ready to be transported to the Clave with no exceptions." His hand grabbed the door handle.
"And what if we don't give her up?" Jace demanded. The man gave him an evil smile.
"Persecution."
It went dark.
A flash of lightning flashed in the darkness and cruel laughter echoed in the empty nothingness. A pale, shadowy figure was illuminated by electric light. A jagged scar ran along the curve of his face and jaw, and his murderous, black eyes gleamed sinisterly. A crooked, terrifying smile stretched across his face.
"The ones you trust most are not who you think they are, niece." He said with faux sadness. "They have lied and cheated you! We'll make them pay. And the ones who left you? They'll burn slower than the rest. You can rule with me, dear niece, and you and I will show them all who the true heroes are." Thunder boomed. He looked around without a care in the world, and stuck up his hand. Scarlet liquid covered his palm. It looked a lot like blood. "I have to go now," He said. "Wake up, Charlotte!"
"NO!" I scream and my heart pounds against my chest. I remember every single detail of what I just dreamt; the red hair, the gold eyes, the scar. I scurry out of my bed and search for paper and a pencil, anything that I can use to write with and write on. I find a lone sticky note and an old pen and quickly jot down everything that I had seen. It had all seemed so real; the people, the blood raining from the sky and that baby… that baby seems strangely familiar and my stomach churns. I feel sick, and suddenly I wish I had eaten something before going to bed. I raced to my bathroom and vomited my guts out, since my stomach had no food to get rid of.
I stand up with trembling legs and almost fall to my knees. I walk back to my room. My small hands cradle my stomach and I suddenly realize how painfully hot my hands feel, how my veins seem to be on fire and it doesn't hurt… just tingles…
My door swings open with a bang and I scream. I'm scared and I feel like I left my stomach somewhere in the bathroom. My hands burn and they twitch once.
"Are you okay? Is everything all right?" Tom asks, running towards me with a baseball bat in one hand, and a strange looking stick in the other. I only glance at him, my eyes still wide and my heart somewhere stuck in my throat. I look back down at my hands. "Charlotte, are you okay?" He asks me seriously, concern clear in his voice. I nod my head and mumble something about a nightmare. He nods, but he clearly isn't buying it. He pushes me towards my bed and tucks me under the covers. "If everything's fine, I'm going to go back to bed." I realize he must've been here for a while. He plants a quick kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight, Charlotte." I whisper a goodnight as he closes the door.
I look back down at my hands, still in shock.
Because I swear, my hands had caught on fire.
Please review. Thanks for reading. I know it's shorter than the last chapter, I promise the other chapters will be longer!
~ Legend in the Making