Disclaimer- I don't own anything.
Chapter 2
(Akiza's POV)
I didn't always have my powers. A lot of people think I was a witch from the start, but I wasn't. I was very normal and like every other little girl out there. I had dreams I wanted to fulfill latter on in life. I liked wearing skirts and dresses and I played pretend like all the other kids. Whenever I dueled I didn't inflict pain like I do now. It was my father that was the problem. You see, he was the Senator. You're probably thinking that's not so bad, right? Wrong. Since my father was a very important man, he was always gone or working. He always left before dawn and never came home until late at night. My mom got used to it, but I never did. I just thought I wasn't important and didn't matter to him since any attention I received from him was little. You just couldn't explain this to a little girl.
One of the memories I remember the most was my 7th birthday. I was so excited, finally thinking I was a big girl now, but then I thought that every year. I sat in the kitchen watching my mother bake my birthday cake. It was going to be chocolate with vanilla frosting, my favorite. After I helped my mom frost the cake – I also licked the spoon but she doesn't need to know that—my mom out lined the cake with strawberries and wrote happy birthday in pink frosting. I couldn't wait for my father to get home and see the cake. I followed mom as she set the cake on the coffee table in the living room. I then sat down on the couch, waiting for my dad.
After a while, my mom called my dad and handed me the phone. "Hello," replied a tired voice.
"Hello Daddy," I replied in a sing song voice. "Do you think you will be able to make it tonight," I asked, almost not daring to know the answer.
"Of course, I picked out a special present for you Akiza. I'm sure you'll love it."
"What is it," I asked in an excited voice.
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise," he said in a joking manner. I found no use to pry, he wouldn't tell me anyways. I then heard muffed voices on the other end. Probably his coworkers and assistants I thought to myself sourly, but keep a cheery frontier. My father then started talking again, this time in a hurried manner. "Akiza, daddy has very important work to do, I'll see you tonight." The phone went dead in my hand and I just stared at it. The monotone beep sounded from the phone, seeming to mock my sorrow. I then hopped off the couch and headed into the kitchen. My mom was fiddling around with the pots and pan when I handed her the phone. 'She must be getting ready to make my birthday dinner' I thought to myself.
"What did your father say," my mother said while filling a large pot with water, while said pot was getting very heavy. I saw the package of noodles on the counter by the stove, along with the aroma of my favorite sauce. I put two and two together and knew that she was making my favorite food, spaghetti with meatballs.
"He said he would be here tonight," I said in a cheery voice.
"Well won't that be nice," my mother said with a smile, "we'll be able to have a nice family dinner again." I gave her my biggest and rarest grin and helped her set the table for dinner. After I put all the placemats, and silverware on the table – my mom handled the more delicate stuff – I helped mother with mixing the meatballs in the noodles and sauce. My mother and I then playfully fought over who would get the most meatballs; I eventually won since I was the birthday girl.
We waited for more than twenty minutes until my mom sadly stated that we should start without him. I was reluctant at first, wanting more than anything to start dinner with him, but gave in eventually to my mother's reasoning. The spaghetti was probably amazing as usual, but for some reason the dinner just seemed to taste fowl in my mouth. Like my food, an empty feeling of dread sat in my stomach. Dinner was very quiet, almost like no one existed in our house. I tried to tell myself that we were just listening for when dad came home. 'He'll be home any minute' I thought to myself, trying as hard as I could not to lose hope. When we were finished with our food, we just stared at our plates, as if forbidding their very presence. I looked very much like a deflated balloon and my mom just looked glum. Before I could say anything she stood up and collected the dirty dishes and started putting them in the sink, meaning she was going to start washing them. I quickly collect my dishes and handed them to her. "Since it's your birthday tonight, you don't have to help with the dished tonight," she said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. I nodded and headed out into the living room.
"Akiza," my mother called, her voice echoing off the walls, "Do you want your piece of cake now or later?"
"I'll have it when dad comes home," I replied, suddenly not feeling hungry for my birthday cake. I silently sulked over to the couch and sat on it. An hour passed by and that time I was already fast asleep. I was on the floor with my head and arms resting on the coffee table right next to my birthday cake. About thirty minutes later my father comes running through the door and hands my mother his briefcase before running into the living room, my mother in close pursuit. My father ran over to my side looking to see if I was by any chance awake. With great disappointment running through him he gently picked me so he would not wake me. His actions reminded me of how one would treat their most delicate and prized possession. By what happened tonight, I knew I wasn't.
He carried me bridle style up to my room. He walked me slowly walked over to my small bed. He the gently pushed back the rose colored covers and laid me in my bed. Then he pulled the covers up to my chest. He kneeled beside my bed, a look of sorrow and disappointment on his worried faced. "I'm so sorry Akiza," he said in a mourning voice. He then placed a small, delicately wrapped box on my wooden nightstand, waiting to be opened. He walked out of my room slowly, closing the door as silently as he could so he wouldn't wake me. Another disappointment added to my life.
