Chapter 3: Sins

When James was thirteen he had gotten into a fight at school one day, a boy that he had never been too friendly with approaching him. He had come from a particularly high class family, and had made a sideways comment to him about his father. He had gone on to insult his class, as well as their business.

His father at the time had owned a small shop that sold uniquely handcrafted furnishings. His father and mother both made their merchandise from scratch, putting the utmost love and care into their creations. It was a poor business. One that the boy had mocked.

He recalled the rapturous feeling of his knuckles making contact with the boy's face. The bones had crunched beneath his fists, making him feel powerful as he pounded his frustration into existence. Blood dripped down the contours of the boy's face; painting his knuckles a fascinating shade of red along the way. Afterwards, he could remember his father sitting him down with a disappointed look in his eyes. He told him, "James, you can tell the greatness of a man by what makes him most angry."

Quick to defend himself, he spoke up. "But he insulted us father. Our class, your work, what we do." His face was still flushed from his anger, eyes still alight from his burst of adrenaline. He remembered the embarrassment he had felt as the boy looked down at him so haughtily. That feeling of shame that had consumed him. It made his blood boil.

His father sighed softly beside him, "It matters not what other people say about the work we do, but that you are proud because you know we work hard to earn an honest living."

But I'm not proud, James had wanted to say. He didn't want to be poor. And he certainly didn't want kids laughing at him because he was poor.

"Remember, son. All that matters is that you can live a humble life, and have your family by your side in the end."

James found that he didn't quite agree. But then again, he and his father never really had seen eye to eye.

In the end James had grown up to pursue a different trade. The trade of a businessman-one that was far more profitable and comfortable.

He tried to respect his father's beliefs, though. Tried to be humble and patient.

But, some things were beyond redemption. Some things deserved his anger. He grit his teeth, taking a swig of his beer. He cast an ominous look towards the stairs, a mad glint in his eye.

Sins needed to be punished after all-one way or another.

His thoughts drifted to the small girl upstairs, overwhelmed by an influx of different feelings. Feelings he refused to try to understand, instead settling on taking another drink.

Checking his watch, he stood as he placed his beer on the table. He was dressed nicely, wearing one of his finest suits that rarely ever saw the light of day, save for Sundays. He rubbed his newly shaved face as he moved to linger at the edge of the staircase, cracking his knuckles with his thumb.

"Anna!" he called loudly, non too patiently. He didn't have to wait long. A small figure darted across the hall to stop at the top of the stairs, small hands gripping the banister as she gazed down at him. His eyes were trained on her hands. He watched, entranced. Small fingers were trembling, barely noticeable, but he could tell. And when he finally looked up she was staring at him. Her pupils were dilated, the fear in them like an a vast ocean. One could drown in that much fear.

"It's time to go."

She blinked, nodding firmly. And irritation swept over him as she still stared at him. She seemed to sense it however and abruptly looked away, eyes downcast. So pathetic and sad-those eyes haunted him. A reminder to him always.

Because, he thought, those eyes both enraged and broke his heart at the same time.


Deuteronomy 18:9-12

"When you come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you, you shall not learn to follow the abominable practices of those nations. There shall not be found among you anyone who burns his son or daughter as an offering, anyone who practices divination or tells fortunes or interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or a charmer, or a medium, or a necromancer, or one who inquires of the dead, for whoever does these things is an abomination of the Lord. And because of these abominations the Lord your God is driving them out before you."

Abomination. Abomination. Abomination.

The words pounded in her head, echoing in her mind. You're an abomination.

They had arrived at church five minutes late, scurrying to their seats-Anna being pulled along harshly by the arm, cringing at the touch-as they tried to enter unnoticed. Once seated, her father had quickly grabbed two bibles, shoving one roughly in her arms as he opened his to the proper page. Then he had gone stock still, not looking at her once.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, as he sat beside her regarding the bible seriously, listening raptly to the words of the priest, clinging on to them like they were his life line. Her own bible hung loosely in her grasp, suddenly feeling wrong in her hands.

She had never paid much attention in church. The idea of God had always seemed silly to her. The thought of one being, being more vast and powerful than existence itself-it was ludicrous. And yet the possibility angered her at the same time, allowing resentment to taint her heart.

If there was a God she hated him she had decided. She hated him more than any other, a venomous loathing coursing through her veins for Him. After all, it was He who left her in such cruel position. So she felt that her indignation was justified. It was He who had abandoned her first-not the other way around.

But at the same time, though a large part of her doubted His existence, no real proof ever discovered-only hope-she felt afraid.

Micah 5:12

"And I will cut off the sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes;"

Abomination.

She remembered the feeling of power, control, how she hadn't felt weak. Last night, she had been strong. If her ability could be described as anything, she was sure it would fall under the same category of sin that was being so clearly outlined before her. But...

But she wasn't bad. She wasn't evil or rotten. The black and white picture being painted in the small book that she held irritated her some what. Because even now, the presence within her held no malicious intent. It felt more like an extension of herself, something she had always been missing. She gripped the wooden edges of the bench tightly.

"And I will cut off the sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes;"

Anna wet her lips, the church suddenly seeming small, the people nonexistent. She kept her eyes on her lap, absentmindedly running her thumb across the spine of the book, the texture rough against her fingers.

And she thought, what was true power?

"And I will cut off the sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes;"

The answer came to her unbidden.

It was something that everyone feared.

Because suddenly it all made sense.

True power was something nobody wanted you to have, she realized.

But that was okay. Because, really, that just made her that much determined to hold on to it.


After church they had run some errands, and by six o'clock James pulled to a slow stop in front of the house, the car engine sputtering as he braked. It was a used car, nothing too fancy-but not anything too terribly hideous. A decent enough ride.

Anna waited as he took the keys from the ignition, aware moving to exit the vehicle a moment to soon might inspire his wrath. But she was patient. He straightened his coat, cracking his neck and readjusting his back before he opened the door. His shoes hit the pavement with a light clack, a signal for her to follow his lead. She trailed a few paces behind him, wary to keep the right amount of distance between them, as she followed him into the house silently.

Father and daughter stood in the entrance way, removing their coats and shoes-the atmosphere thick with tension. At least it truly felt that uncomfortable to Anna. Every moment felt suffocating, and she found herself just wanting to speed the process along and escape, eager to finally be alone.

He didn't stay near her long, marching to the kitchen to crack open a beer, the one he had discarded this morning still resting on the table-warm by now. He pressed the alcoholic beverage against lips, greedily tilting the bottle back as he opened his mouth to allow the drink passage. After the initial few desperate gulps, he slowed down and leaned back against the counter, a faraway look in his eyes.

She cautiously walked in the opposite direction, towards the stairs.

Once out of his field of vision she hastened her step, taking the stairs two at a time. She fled to her room, immediately shutting the door behind her as she breathed a sigh of relief.

It was there, after minutes of waiting to see if her father would would make an appearance, Anna proceeded to test the limits of her new ability in every way she could think of. Excited, she played with her powers like an child would a new toy. However, unlike the former, she never grew bored.

She'd thought learning to use her power, would be the equivalent of trying to teach herself a foreign language. She was pleasantly surprised however, to see how naturally she took to it. The feeling of it building inside of her felt much like when she woke with her arm all tingly and numb underneath her. She'd shake and rub the life back into it, avidly attempting to reanimate it from it's numb state. Except instead of kneading the power with her hands, she used her emotions and sheer will.

Anna had very quickly adapted to the pulsating mass now attached to her. The energy inside her wrapped around her like a second skin, clinging to her every move. It worked the same way she'd move a limb, without much thought or consideration-only focus. And when enough force was applied, she could feel it reach out and soar through her tiny bedroom.

Through all her trial and error, she was able to discover that it reacted in the best ways when her emotions were at their highest peak. For example, at one point when she had managed to summon the energy to the tips of her fingers, a sort of release point she had discovered, the sudden sound of the creaking floor boards in the hallways had managed to make her heart leap into her throat. She feared her father throwing open the door and catching her in the act of her witchcraft. This caused her power to expand beyond her reach very suddenly, bursting from her finger tips with sudden vigor, and throwing the book she had been attempting to use her abilities on far across the room with slam so loud she was frightened her father would come stampeding up the steps.

She hadn't tried to summon the force inside for a little while again after that.

It felt strange to have this part of her hidden, just out of reach, for so long. Now she wondered how she had ever missed it. This extraordinary gift, no other seemed to possess. Except that boy at Wools. He had spoken to that garden snake when he had thought he had been alone. He knew he was different, and judging by his reaction when he had caught her spying on him, he didn't wish anyone else to know. And why would he?

Abomination.

Sin.

It was something if discovered they would surely be punished for. Perhaps locked away over. People would think them mad probably. If there was anything others couldn't tolerate it was something that they couldn't understand and perceived to be more powerful than them.

Anna layed her head down on her pillow, staring up at her ceiling as she blinked lazily.

She felt drained, her limbs heavy. And really, she hadn't even used that much of her power. She was sure she barely had scratched the surface. Maybe she had to work it out like one did their muscles. Go without using them and they become difficult to control, give them enough attention and soon you're able to lift things even bigger than you.

But she'd learned in school you're muscles needed rest after particularly grueling workouts. Perhaps that was the same case for her gifts.

With this thought in mind, she reached under her mattress, pulling out a book she kept hidden there that she had borrowed from school. She opened it carefully, books being one of the only things she liked. Books didn't call you names, or hurt you, or look at you like you were something foul that they had just found under their boot. Books were neutral force, words and thoughts of different people made to inspire you. And, she thought, as she found her place-the memories she received from the books, real or not, were some of the only good ones she had.

Sighing softly, she smiled and began to read, immersing herself in the colorful world the author had created.

A world, like all the others in her books, that was unfortunately better than the reality around her.


When Monday rolled around, and the long weekend had finally came to an end Anna had woken early, preparing to sneak out of the house. Unfortunately her father was already awake, shoes on and keys in hand. And he was not in a happy mood.

He commented several times on her looks. "You look rather boyish in that uniform, don't you? Thin, and boxy. You're like having a son," he sneered.

She steeled herself against the array of hurtful words, and she supposed she ought to be thankful it was just words and not his palm across her cheek. She kept her expression carefully blank, not wanting to give him any satisfaction in his jeering. He must have realized she was well prepared today because his insults slowly died off as they approached her school, an annoyed look settling across his features.

She pulled on the handle of the door, only managing to get halfway out when he suddenly shoved her to the rest of the way. "Hurry the hell up!" he complained.

She only just managed to catch herself on the side of the car. She didn't turn around. Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line, her anger, accompanied with a good helping for fear, causing the energy inside her to bounce around restlessly. She sought to control it immediately, pushing it back down and quieting it as she left her spot in the parking lot. She dared not gaze back to look at her father, not wanting to risk a scene, as she entered the school to proceed about her day.

She paid quiet attention in her classes, making sure to take down specific notes. All in all it was an uneventful day, her powers thankfully not causing her any trouble since the moment by the car.

The only thing that was worth remembering would be lunch. When to her surprise, true to his word, Dillion had sought her out.

He had greeted her with a smile so bright she had thought for a moment he might be speaking to someone else. But when it was apparent he was talking to her, she nodded, voicing her quiet hello in return.

He had wandered from his table to sit beside her, joking and laughing. She ate her lunch, slowly, watching him-learning him, unsure if this would be common occurrence. The other children watched them as if flabbergasted that he was associating with her and her with him.

It was strange having him beside her, and she was undecided if she enjoyed the feeling of him next to her. But she didn't turn him away. So she supposed she didn't detest his presence too horridly, though she was always careful to avoid his touch. Of course, this wasn't personal. He had seemed to have noticed her dislike for it though like she thought he had the day she met him, never overstepping his boundaries.

Although, his constant aura of happiness was obnoxious at times, and he wasn't as quick to use his brain in certain situations, he was tolerable.

He even managed to make her laugh once through all the complete nonsense that he sputtered.

"Hey," he said lightly, "you don't laugh with everyone. I must be pretty funny or something, huh?"

"Yeah, you must be...or something." she joked awkwardly.

And it was something. Something she couldn't quite place about him. But she tried not to think too much into it. And they talked like that for a while-him doing most of the talking, of course.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He told her when the bell rang and the period came to an end, winking at her slyly.

"Tomorrow," she nodded in agreement.

She continued on with the rest of her classes after that, and eventually the day came to its end.

Anna stepped quickly down the steps of her school; slipping between the other

children and their waiting families. She moved swiftly, her Mary-Janes barely making a sound. Like she always did, she waited to see if her father would show, hoping he would not. And when he didn't she didn't hesitate.

On her way home she swept across the sidewalks and through a few back alleys, just as she had done everyday since her encounter with the boy. One that had been slowly fading from her mind, a now foggy recollection of the occurrence replacing her vivid memories.

Humans were flawed like that.

She walked past many buildings, not bothering to really take them in, as they past her in a haze. Halfway through her walk she paused though, an odd feeling coming over her. Something was different.

She tensed, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing erect.

A distinct feeling she experienced when she usually felt her father's eyes on her. She shuddered, looking over her shoulder nervously. She stared hard, but no one was paying her any attention, everyone walking with their own destinations in mind. She looked one last time before turning reluctantly and crossing over to the next street. Hastening her steps, she continued, convincing herself that little niggling feeling to just be something in her head. But living with her father had taught her a great many things about following her instincts.

She'd once read a book about animals' survival instincts. How prey developed a sort of natural instinct to detect when danger approached. Nature's way of protecting the weaker species.

She didn't like thinking of herself as weak.

She studied hard in school, day in and day out. She thought perhaps one day this would assist her in being able to escape from under her father's suffocating shadow.

Anna remembered how he had scoffed at her attempts to impress him early on. She thought perhaps if she had shown him she was intelligent, the rest of her failures in his eyes, whatever he was convinced they may be, would be overlooked. That everything would stop-that they could be normal.

How she wished they could just be normal.

However, whatever her father held against her she soon to realized was not about to be forgiven by a few measly grades. Though, she kept at it. And now, maybe with both school and her ever growing abilities things would change for her.

After all, she once heard her teacher talk of young women attending universities; making something of themselves, other than a secretary or shop assistant. And she refused to entertain the idea of winding up in a factory, like others in their neighborhood. The mere thought of it made her queasy, a sick feeling sweeping over her.

The conditions they kept were inhumane at best. She did not want to be one of the poor souls who suffered through the summer's heat and the winter's chill, trapped inside the sweatshops from sun-up to sun-down. And besides, she did not want to be barely surviving on such low income.

Anna didn't know what she might pursue, but thought perhaps one day she could be an author. She'd like to have an impact on the world, on people-like the books she read had on her. Being able to be heard by that many people without actually being seen by them. It was something that appealed to her.

She read judiciously whenever she could. Usually by moonlight, long after her father had collapsed from the drink. She often studied the way each author wrote, the emphasis they put on certain things. And other times she read only to lift her spirits. Sometimes it helped. It let her imagine herself in a far away world, somewhere she could be herself. Somewhere where she could taste the sweetness of a happy life and the numbness she felt inside would fade away.

She hadn't had the time to get her hands on much reading material lately, but today she had managed to fill her knapsack to the brim. She had picked from a few of the less popular titles, before class was called to order that morning.

Mr. Fletcher, the elderly library attendant greeted her the moment she stepped foot in the door, immediately commenting on her absence. After a bit of a rocky start last year, when her father, in rage, had destroyed one of the books she had borrowed-she had to steadily earn the man's respect back, chipping away at his jagged edges. She remembered she had been very afraid, books being one of her only solaces. If she lost that she'd have little to nothing. But he was understanding after she had explained the accident, which had been a lie she has concocted; so as not to reveal the true nature of the book's destruction.

His gruff demeanor scared off most ruffians from the stacks; as he was quick to shoo away any who he thought might bring harm to his beloved collection. But he didn't frighten her.

Anna always handled his books with such care, and had expressed such sorrow over the one incident, he could not help but to notice her attachment. Over the years, he had pulled some of his most cherished titles down from the shelves for her. Those precious worn copies that he would not regularly loan out, to just anyone. He knew not how she could understand such heavy topics, but she always surprised him when she came back with a deeper realization of the world. He could see it in her eyes.

They didn't speak much, but something about his gaze told her he understood her in some ways.

As she rearranged her shoulder strap, the cool fall breeze picked up. Leaves

spiraled through the air around her, scattering her thoughts for a mere moment. Their movements restless, as they twisted lazily along the pavement. Just as she made to cross the last street before hers, a car whizzed past, horn blaring; frightening her from her thoughts.

All of a sudden, it was as if she had froze time around her. The car continued on, unfettered. But the leaves, whether they where caught tumbling mid-air or twisting atop the street's surface, halted completely. She snatched a nearby leaf from where it floated in mid-air, panic seizing her.

She had felt something around her pulse in fright, before easing back into her skin. A sort of self defense mechanism, in it's own right that had left the leaves hanging there nimbly for just a few seconds. Which to her, felt a lifetime.

She whipped her gaze left and right, hoping no one else noticed her freakish display; for she herself barely knew what to make of it. So, she hurried home, walking quickly along her newly adopted path. She knew her father would be arriving there shortly, but her worry over being noticed was greater. Especially since she did not know when or how her abilities would come to life.

She walked fast, with purpose. But she found she couldn't shake the one last feeling of unease that made her brain itch. However, she ignored her paranoia, the inclination she had to turn back shoved aside. Her instincts were finely tuned though, because burning into her back as she retreated were a pair of familiar dark eyes peering out from behind a brick building a distance away. They watched her with precision, glimmering with unanswered questions. Keen to know how this little waif could share his gifts, only just holding himself back with great restraint. The pressure that had built within him the past few weeks growing to unbearable proportions. His energy reached out as if in longing, and he reeled it back in sharply, almost scoldingly, thoroughly enraged.

He willed himself to turn back, but his feet remained firmly in place, his body willing him to follow after the girl he had been stalking. And the audacity that his power dare try to command him, while he should be commanding it was enough for him to wrench himself backwards in defiance.

Because nothing would control him. Not even the power inside him.


When Anna finally entered her home a way off, she shut the door tightly behind her.

There she ran to her room to practice her abilities in the privacy of her room, away from the greedy eyes of others. To strengthen them so she too would be strong.

-drive this abomination from you.

Sin.

She paused as recalled the words of the Lord and the fear it had inspired in her.

"And I will cut off the sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes;"

Let you try.

Because she wasn't evil, or corrupt.

She just wanted to be in control, to not be weak anymore. She needed to be able to defend herself against the true evils of this world. And this was the first step.

And if power was sin, if that was something they shunned out of fear-

She supposed she'd always be evil in their eyes.

Because being strong was something she'd never give up her pursuit of.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said Tom would appear in this chapter, but I felt the characters needed a bit more development. I felt it would be rushing to add him in here. He will most definitely appear in the next one though. This is a promise. Many thanks to AvalonTheLadyKiller who helped me with quite a bit of this chapter! Check out her story Iridescent!