The Second Curse: A TT Fanfic-CHAPTER 9
A/N: Sorry, I know it's been a while! I also realize there's been a major lack of Titans. Don't worry; the Titans will come into play a lot starting in Chapter 10! This is Chapter 9 of my OC Teen Titans Fanfic, The Second Curse. If you have not done so, please read the Prologue first, and then the chapters that precede this one. Note: there is no First Curse; this is not a sequel to anything. Hope you enjoy! : )
WARNING: Things get kind of graphic in this one. I'm not going to change the official rating for chapters like this, I'll just say up here. I'm personally rating this chapter B for blood and M for thematic, disturbing content (but if you can stomach it, I suggest you do so; there's some good history on Dawn and Sabbath in this one).
Sabbath was stunned speechless, and the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer adding a certain expectant air to the otherwise silent room. Sabbath felt it becoming harder to breath; the tension could've been cut with a knife. What to say? How could she have ended up as a headline in the local paper? True it was only the gossip column, but still. Sabbath thought back to when she'd been fighting Plasmus. At the time, all she could think about was the giant purple blob and the threat it posed to the Titans. She didn't remember any news crews hanging around. But, now that she thought about it, there had been a crowd of citizens off to the side who had decided to stay and watch the show. Citizens with cellphones…
"Well?" Mrs. Miller asked.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" added Mr. Miller.
Neither foster parent seemed at all pleased, though Sabbath couldn't think of any reason they should really be mad at her. Yes, she'd made the paper in all her freakish, winged glory, but she was fighting a monster; saving the city! It's not like she'd been slitting the tires of handicapped kids' wheelchairs or something. And really, no one would recognize her in that picture except people who already knew her. It was taken from a weird, lower angle behind her (luckily, despite the fact that she was wearing a skirt in the photo, nothing embarrassing was revealed); she had mostly her back facing the photographer. All that could clearly be seen in the picture were her wings, hair, skirt, and flaming left arm (most of her lower half wasn't even in the frame). Unfortunately, it was still all the Millers needed to recognize her.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she began remorsefully, figuring the Millers were embarrassed to see that side of her published in such a public medium. She knew she never should've exposed her wings like that in broad daylight. This would teach her. "I just didn't think you'd understand, or even want to know. I know my abilities make you uncomfortable, so I didn't think you'd want to hear about a bunch of people just like me…"
"Sabbath, we're not upset about that; who you make friends with is your business," Mr. Miller corrected. "Besides, the photograph doesn't show your face, so no one knows it's you. What we're angry about is that you lied to us about your whereabouts. You weren't shopping or hanging out with friends from school, were you?"
"Have you even been going to school?" Mrs. Miller asked accusingly.
"Of course I've been going to school!" Sabbath snapped. Why were they accusing her of such crazy things? They were making way too big a deal of this whole thing! "And as a matter of fact I was shopping; where do you think that outfit came from?" she asked, gesturing angrily at the newspaper. "I just wasn't with friends from school. Hell, I haven't made any friends in school since I was in elementary school! You know how I spend most of my time? Alone! And now that I've met some people who actually consider me a human being and want to be around me, I get yelled at for it? OK, so I lied about who I was with, what does it matter? Except for that one night, I've always made curfew, haven't I? What do you care where I go or what I do as long as I'm home on time?" Now that her secret was out, a lot of built up emotions that she'd been hiding came spilling out all at once, making her seem angrier than she meant to, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.
"We're not yelling at you, Sabbath," Mr. Miller said, keeping his voice perfectly level. "Like I said, what you do and who you make friends with is basically your business. We're just upset that you've been lying to us."
"We also don't appreciate you using such a harsh tone with us," Mrs. Miller added, more emotional than her husband. "Actually, before you decided to start yelling like some kind of barbarian, we had only wanted to talk to you. We wanted to apologize for not discussing this with you sooner."
"You did?" Sabbath asked, taken aback by their lack of anger. She was starting to feel a bit foolish, but they HAD been the ones making wild accusations.
Mr. Miller sighed. "Sabbath, do you know why we moved to this city?"
"It was for your job, right?"
"No, dear," Mrs. Miller answered, a quiet sympathy entering her voice and replacing the previous anger. "It was because we'd heard about this group of local teenagers. They call themselves the 'Teen Warriors'-"
"Titans," Sabbath corrected. "Teen Titans."
"Yes, that was it, the Teen Titans.," Mrs. Miller continued. "Well anyhow, a friend of your father's had suggested we come here. He works in the same company branch as your father. When we told him about you, he mentioned the Titans. He claimed they were like real life superheroes. He thought this city would be a great environment for you. When we found out your father could transfer here and still keep his job, we decided to move. I ended up having to switch companies, but a lawyer like me can always find work in big cities like this."
"We meant to tell you about them," Mr. Miller added, "but you always seemed either too tired or too busy. We're sorry you had to stumble upon them by yourself, you must've been rather shocked."
"Yeah, that's one word for it…" Sabbath trailed off, now lost in thought. So they'd moved here just for her? Just so she'd finally make some friends? They must really care about her after all, in their own way (their own, no-hugging-required way). She didn't know what to say.
"We encourage you to get to know them," said Mrs. Miller, smiling. "We want you to be happy here and to make some real friends. We can't imagine how tough the last few years have been for you, but we wanted your life with us to be a fresh, new start."
"And on that note, here," Mr. Miller said, producing a wrapped package that had been previously hidden from view beside his chair. "We got this for you."
Numbly, Sabbath reached out and took it. It was a small box wrapped in gaudy giftwrap. Was it jewelry? Slowly, she tore off the shiny paper and revealed the plain white box underneath. Dropping the paper to the floor, she lifted the cover off the box. Inside was a sleek, new cellphone. It looked to be plain black, but when Sabbath slid it open, a hot pink, full QWERTY keyboard was revealed. There was a small loop on the top left corner of the phone to string cellphone charms or key chains from. Dangling there on a thin, black cord was a chunky, silver cross charm.
"I saw it in the window of a local electronics store yesterday," Mrs. Miller said. "It reminded me of that outfit you came home in the other day, and since you needed a new cellphone..."
"It's all set up and ready to go," added Mr. Miller. "We even charged it up."
"But the charger wouldn't fit in the box," Mrs. Miller continued. "We'll give it to you later."
Not wanting to speak, fearing that if she did she'd break out into tears, Sabbath just leaned down and wrapped Mrs. Miller in a hug, and then Mr. Miller. Surprisingly, they each gently returned the embrace. "Thank you…" she whispered to each of them.
"You're welcome, dear," her foster mother replied, her eyes shiny with repressed tears, much as Sabbath suspected her own were.
"We hope you like it," Mr. Miller added, smiling.
"I love it!" Sabbath assured them, once she trusted herself not to cry.
"Good," Mr. Miller said.
"And don't be afraid to talk to us, no matter what," Mrs. Miller continued. "You can tell us anything. But if for some reason you can't get ahold of us, God is always listening," she said, gesturing to the cross charm.
Sabbath knew what she meant, and it was the thought that counted (plus, the cellphone WAS pretty awesome). Having run out of words, she simply smiled and nodded in agreement (under any other circumstances, she would've replied in her usual indifferent, sarcastic manner). After a moment she added, "I'm just going to go bring my bag upstairs and start on my homework. Let me know when dinner's ready?"
"Ah, not so fast…" Mr. Miller called out as Sabbath turned to leave. "There's still one more matter at hand."
Sabbath flinched and slowly turned back around to face her foster parents.
"We're happy you've met a few kindred spirits in this city, but that doesn't change the fact that you've been lying to us," Mrs. Miller sad, the stern tone returning. "But before we lay down an appropriate punishment, let's clear up a few things."
"O…k," Sabbath said cautiously. "Like what?"
"Well let's start with how you lost your other phone," Mr. Miller said.
Ah. That. "Well," Sabbath began. "It's kind of a long story."
"We have all the time in the world," Mrs. Miller said, crossing her arms. Then, nodding to the space on the couch next to her, she said, "Sit."
Sabbath knew there'd be no easy way of escaping once they had her on that couch; but she also knew her foster mother's order wasn't up for negotiation. Hanging her head in defeat, Sabbath's shoulders slumped as she made her way to the couch and took a seat next to Mrs. Miller.
The atmosphere in the room got more and more uncomfortable as Sabbath told the Millers what had happened that day. She told them about Cinderblock and how she'd gotten hurt fighting it, explaining that a crash landing on a mini-van had crushed both the cellphone and her left wing. Mrs. Miller flinched, and Sabbath thought she caught a glimpse of sympathy in her foster mother's eyes. She told them about how she'd woken up in Titans' Tower, and how they'd fixed her up. Mr. Miller shifted uncomfortably in his chair. She even told them about how one of the Titans had walked her home, although she left out exactly who it was. They didn't need to know that part.
Once her story was finished, Mr. Miller asked his next question. "Alright. So what about that Friday night you told us you were going to the movies? Were you in the Tower unsupervised with those boys that night as well?"
His insinuation was obvious, and Sabbath was offended he would even think such a thing about her, or about the Titans. But, seeing as she was already in the hot seat, she figured it was best to suppress her rage and just answer the questions. A fight would only prolong her suffering on that couch. "Well, they're not all boys, you know," she corrected, keeping her voice as calm as possible despite all the jagged comebacks spinning through her head. "But no, that Friday night I was by myself. I just took a quick flight over the city. I wanted to see if my wing was fully healed, but I also wanted to get a better idea of where the Tower was. I flew down to the coast, but I didn't get any closer than the lighthouse."
"Lighthouse?"
"Yes, lighthouse," she clarified, wondering what part of the word was so hard for him to understand. "There's a lighthouse in the harbor about a block or two away from the Tower. I didn't see the Titans."
"What about Saturday?" Mrs. Miller asked. "Is that when this picture was taken?" she said, holding up the newspaper article in question once again.
"Yes," Sabbath answered wearily. She was getting sick of this whole interrogation. She quickly explained the series of events that had occurred that day as well; everything from the thrift store in town, to her visit to the Titans' Tower (though leaving out the details of what exactly she did there), to the pizza parlor in town and the appearance of Plasmus.
By now, the Millers looked like they'd really rather be anywhere but in that room, discussing the things they were, but yet seemed to feel it was their duty as good foster parents to listen attentively. After all, hadn't they just told Sabbath to feel free to tell them anything?
"And that's about it," Sabbath summed up, only leaving out the detail about the communicator. Again, she didn't feel that was something they really needed to know. The Millers thought she was just friends with the Titans, not working with them, and that was how she wanted to leave it. "I haven't seen the Titans since Saturday. You know the rest."
"There now," Mrs. Miller said with forced cheer. "Doesn't it feel good to have everything out in the open?" She was the first one to speak following Sabbath's story. Mr. Miller, meanwhile, seemed to have turned into a silent, uncomfortable stone statue.
"Yeah, I guess so," Sabbath replied, not meaning it but knowing it was what the Millers wanted to hear. Honestly, she felt just the opposite. She didn't enjoy telling them about her adventures with the Titans. It was almost as awkward for her as it was for her foster parents. A heavy silence followed, no one seeming to know what to say in response, nor how to really close the discussion.
The grandfather clock suddenly chimed 5 o'clock, surprising everyone in the otherwise silent room. Sabbath was shocked, how could it be so late? Had she really been sitting here spilling her guts to the Millers for almost two hours? She hadn't even heard it ring for 4 o'clock.
Suddenly, it was as if a spell had been broken. The Millers snapped out of their uncomfortable haze. Mr. Miller said, "We're glad you told us the truth Sabbath, but that doesn't change the fact that you lied to us to begin with. So to discourage you from doing so in the future, you're grounded for the next week."
"What?" Sabbath cried. She hadn't seen that one coming. "But that's not fair! The only reason I lied was because-"
"Sabbath, don't talk back to your father," Mrs. Miller said sternly. "And lying is a terribly bad habit that can lead to nothing but trouble."
Sabbath ground her teeth together and squeezed the cellphone's box in her hands. She cried out in frustration before stomping angrily towards the stairs to her room. "I'M NEVER TALKING TO YOU AGAIN!" she yelled over her shoulder. It was an empty, childish threat, but it was all that would come out. As she ascended the staircase, stopping only to snatch her backpack and purse from by the door, the smoke alarm overhead went off, screeching and wailing at a blood-curdling pitch. Sabbath ignored it, as well as the scolding shouts from the Millers. As she turned on the landing to head up the second flight of stairs, she caught a glimpse of Mr. Miller furiously attempting to reset the alarm from the control box by the door, while Mrs. Miller tried to console a panicked Robin (the kitten of course) who was frantically trying to worm his way under the couch.
Once in her room, Sabbath slammed the door firmly behind herself and dropped her bags on the floor before angrily throwing herself on her bed. She heard the alarm cut off downstairs, immediately followed by the muffled sound of the phone ringing somewhere in the house, and knew it was the alarm company calling to make sure everything was alright. Sabbath couldn't help but smile as she imagined the Millers trying to explain that it was a false alarm. She knew they'd never reveal the real reason behind the alarm's going off and would undoubtedly make up some half-plausible story. The irony was that they'd just lectured her about lying.
Sabbath sighed. Slowly removing her new cellphone from its box, she turned it over and over in her hands, examining it as her mind retraced everything that had just happened. Had her entire relationship with the Millers just changed? Had her opinions of them changed? Or would everything still be exactly as it was before? She had no way of knowing for sure; only time would tell.
It was all too much to think about, at least at the moment. She had more immediate problems, namely her recent grounding. She couldn't believe they'd grounded her, when she'd only lied in the first place because she thought that's what they'd have wanted! Sabbath had lived with a lot of families throughout her life, but she was starting to realize that all parents were equally impossible in their own ways. Grounding seemed to be a pretty universal punishment, and Sabbath had always hated it. Not that anyone ever liked being grounded, but still. She found it very…degrading. Grounding a child was like tying a dog up in the back yard; it never accomplished anything other than showing that parents had total control and weren't afraid to implement it.
'Nazis…' Sabbath thought.
Rolling over on her side and turning the cellphone on, Sabbath squinted at its unexpectedly bright screen. After a brief introductory screen, the main screen came up, featuring the date, the time, and a continuously scrolling banner that read, "We love you!" The background image was a blurry group photo of the Millers holding a struggling Robin (again, the kitten) and standing in front of an out-of-focus portrait of Jesus. Sabbath recognized the portrait as the one that currently hung in the living room. The Millers flashed cheesy, forced smiles up at Sabbath from the phone's screen. Mrs. Miller's right arm loomed towards the top left corner of the screen; she'd clearly been the one taking the picture.
'They're really not that bad,' Sabbath thought to herself. It was true, though she hated to admit it. She'd had far worse families than this. They had all started out as perfectly normal foster parents, but it was as if once they had Sabbath and learned what she was, they couldn't handle it. She closed her eyes as memories dusted themselves off and drifted into her conscious mind.
It had all started with the Collins, back when she and Dawn were still adopted together. They seemed like nice, normal people who wanted nothing other than to start a family. They'd adopted the girls as babies, and things had actually been pretty pleasant for a long time. The Collins had eventually told the girls they were adopted, but the Collins were all they'd ever known, so it didn't affect their bond. The girls thought of the place as their home, until things had started to go downhill the night the twins fully came into their powers.
Sabbath flinched at the painful memory. The nightmares had been nothing new, but the burning in her arms certainly was. Not wanting to panic the Collins, she and Dawn had tried to act like it wasn't too bad. Regardless, they couldn't deny the fact that it wasn't going away, so they were taken to the hospital. Then, within the hour and right before the doctors' eyes, dark handprints had appeared, encircling the girls' forearms. They looked like a cross between bruises and burns, and were far bigger than the girls' own hands. No one could explain how they'd gotten there, but because the girls were under the Collins' watch when it had happened (the doctors assumed the actual injury had occurred hours earlier, saying it wasn't unusual for resulting marks to take time to appear), it didn't look good. Of course the Collins protested, saying they would never hurt their children. Dawn and Sabbath had also testified to those regards, but it made no difference. Someone had to be to blame.
Sabbath cried that whole night after they were released from the hospital. She vividly remembered sitting in her pajamas next to Dawn, bawling in the silent, too-bright waiting room. Dawn had gone unusually quiet after the Collins had been taken away in a police cruiser, but Sabbath suspected she felt just as much pain. Earlier that year, the Collins had given the twins each a solid silver (these people were quite rich) hair clip; Dawn's was a butterfly, and Sabbath's was a flower. The Collins had presented them with the clips on their 10th birthday, cheerfully saying "you can't have one without the other!" referring both to flowers and butterflies (Sabbath had been pretty sure it was bees that were important to flowers and not butterflies, but she figured a bee wouldn't have made as cute of a hair accessories), as well as the twins' inseparability. Sabbath didn't wear hers much, since she had yet to discover the magic of a hair straightener, so the clip ended up doing more harm than good, but Dawn literally slept with the thing. Now, as the two girls sat in the waiting room with a young nurse (who was supposed to be supervising them but was too busy doing crossword puzzles), Dawn had taken the clip out of her hair and was holding it tightly in her hands as she stared off quietly into space. Sabbath had noticed this at the time, but was too busy crying her eyes out to say anything. But she remembered wondering how the Hell Dawn could NOT cry. But she never got the chance to ask.
Eventually another police cruiser showed up to retrieve the girls. After briefly talking with the nurse that had been sitting with them, he instructed the twins to go with him. Dawn simply got up and followed the officer; the silent, haunted look never leaving her face. Sabbath stood up shakily and followed her sister, noticing before she walked out the door what Dawn had been staring at. There was a small water cooler propped up against the far wall. Sabbath hadn't noticed it on her way into the room, but she was willing to bet its water tank hadn't been frozen solid before they'd arrived. Puzzled, she opened her mouth to whisper a question to Dawn, but the unsympathetic officer shushed her before she could make a sound and quickly herded her and her sister into the back of the cruiser.
The twins were brought to the police station as well, though they never saw the Collins again. Sabbath attempted to convince the police that the Collins were innocent (Dawn didn't say a word), but they didn't seem to buy it. After a time, the police realized they wouldn't get a different answer from the twins, and the same officer that had brought them there escorted them back to the orphanage.
It took a few days, but eventually Dawn started talking again. She and Sabbath slowly settled into the routine of orphanage life, though they never fit in with their peers. They were only adopted once more as a pair after that. A young couple, the Stewarts, took them in. That only lasted a couple weeks. Dawn and Sabbath didn't take kindly to someone trying to replace the Collins, and it showed in their powers as well as their general behavior. The Stewarts became convinced their foster children were the spawn of Satanists and were dead afraid of them. They'd brandish crucifixes and would sometimes even lock the girls in the basement, until of course one of the twins either destroyed the door, or destroyed something (like a main water pipe or fuse box) in the basement that made it necessary for the Stewarts to go down there.
It soon became too much for the Stewarts to take, and they brought Dawn and Sabbath back to the orphanage, leaving them on the front steps. After that, the girls were adopted separately, which made them even more miserable. They started acting like true demons whenever they were adopted, desperate for the foster parents to return them to the orphanage where at least they would have each other.
Unfortunately, Sabbath was then adopted by a very tough family who refused to give her up. The Kleins were definitely not your average family. They weren't at all terrified of what Sabbath was; in fact, they loved it. They were literal Devil-Worshippers. They thought Sabbath was incredible, and that she was some kind of link between humans and Satan (although she kind of is). They were always demanding her help with their Dark Masses (they even called her "their Little Black Sabbath") or other various displays of power, sometimes exhausting her nearly to the point of passing out. Sometimes they even took blood from her while she slept. Sabbath tried refusing their demands, thinking they'd get fed up with her and return her to the orphanage like everyone else had, but they wouldn't. They'd punish her, lock her up, or stop feeding her, but they refused to give her back. Those people were really quite insane.
Dawn, however, had now been living in the orphanage without her sister for quite some time. Usually, neither sister had to wait too long for the other to come back. Dawn felt completely deserted, she had no friends, no parents, not even the teachers at the orphanage seemed to like her; and now she didn't even have her sister. She rapidly fell into a deep depression that now amount of medication could ease. She eventually grew tired of waiting for Sabbath to come back, and decided being alone would be better than being surrounded by people who ignored her very existence. One night, she ran away from the orphanage, leaving no explanation. She simply disappeared. They tried having the police look for her, but the police figured that since she would be 18 in about a year or two, there was no point; they knew she'd run away.
Eventually, Sabbath managed to use the neighbor's phone (the Kleins kept all phones well hidden) long enough to call the police. The Kleins were arrested, and Sabbath was finally returned to the orphanage. Only this time, Dawn wasn't there waiting for her. Worried, Sabbath desperately sought answers from the orphanage staff and residents, but all anyone could tell her was that she'd run away; vanished without a trace. Sabbath was crushed. She couldn't believe her sister would give up on her like that, or that she'd even think of leaving without her. Her sixteenth birthday was the first Sabbath ever had to spend without her sister. She didn't feel like celebrating one bit. Sabbath swore to never celebrate another birthday without her sister; it just didn't feel right.
From that day on, Sabbath felt her only connection to her sister and dead mother was her powers. She dedicated every ounce of her spare time to practicing her abilities, guided by the Dark Man's instructions in her dreams. Between that and the amount of practice she'd gotten living with the Kleins, the Dark Man soon decided to reward her for her dedication to her gifts.
One night at the orphanage, Sabbath had awoken from another nightmare. In it, the Dark man had seemed very happy with her; pleased with her hard work. He told her he was going to reward her, but didn't reveal any more than that before shed woken up, gasping and scared like usual. Unable to fall back asleep, Sabbath stumbled across the large room to the bathroom, being as quiet as possible so as not to wake any of the other girls sleeping in the room.
As she splashed water onto her face and neck, trying to wash off some of the sweat that had broken out across her skin, her back began to ache. At first she figured she'd just slept in a weird position, but the pain soon increased to unbearable degrees. Her back and shoulders burned, stung, and throbbed. Unable to support herself, Sabbath had sagged against the bathroom wall and slid down to the floor. The pain seemed to be coming in unrelenting waves, each more painful than the last. It seemed to be more focused on her shoulder blades as time went on. Finally she felt something sharp break the skin from the inside. Shocked and in immense pain, Sabbath cried out, rousing the other girls from their sleep.
Several girls burst into the bathroom and found Sabbath, convulsing and crying, curled up on the bathroom floor. She couldn't find the breath to tell them what was wrong, as she was fading back and forth between consciousness, but the blood that was beginning to dot the back of her nightshirt was enough to make them understand. The younger girls hung back in fear, but one of the older ones came and knelt beside Sabbath, carefully lifting the bloody shirt off Sabbath's back. There she saw two black, sharp nubs slowly forcing their way through Sabbath's skin. The girl dropped the hem of Sabbath's shirt in alarm and disgust. One of the teachers had then been woken up by one of the girls and brought to help. By the time the teacher arrived, however, the two appendages had worked their way fully out, though stayed tucked tightly against Sabbath's back. The jagged slits they'd left in her back were healing at an inhumanly fast pace right before the teacher's eyes, not even leaving scars.
The pain was quickly subsiding, and Sabbath's consciousness was returning. As she opened her eyes she saw the ring of girls surrounding her, each with a different look of horror or disgust plastered on their face. "D…Dawn..?" Sabbath weakly whispered, thinking for a moment she'd spotted her sister in the crowd.
"Dawn's not here, dear," the teacher, who was still beside her, answered. Her voice barely concealed her extreme revulsion.
"What happened…?" Sabbath asked, still lying on the cold, tile floor as she was too weak to sit up.
"We're hoping you could tell us," a girl behind her said, sounding like she'd just seen a ghost.
"My back…" Sabbath trailed off, remembering the intense pain in her shoulder blades.
"Yes, dear," the teacher said. "Let's take you to the infirmary. Can you stand?"
Despite the question, neither the teacher nor any of the other girls offered her a helping hand. Regardless, Sabbath managed to stand. Leaning on the wall for support, she followed the teacher to the infirmary, a crowd of disturbed girls following behind her, gawking and whispering. The nurse, who had to be woken up, couldn't make any more sense out of Sabbath's sudden mutation than anyone else. All she could do was wipe the remaining blood off Sabbath's back, although she couldn't find any injuries or sources of blood, so she saw no reason to bandage her.
It seemed the nurse had a stronger stomach than the rest of the inhabitants and employees of the orphanage. As Sabbath sat on a stool, the back of her shirt pushed up to her neck, the nurse slowly and calmly wiped an alcohol-soaked cloth along Sabbath's back and the new appendages sprouting out from under her shoulder blades. As she did so, they began to unfold, sticky with remaining blood and plasma. Sabbath felt them move, but still couldn't see what they were. The nurse gasped.
"Oh my!" the nurse whispered.
"What?" Sabbath asked, becoming more and more nervous; why wouldn't anyone tell her what was going on? She felt the nurse take hold of one of the appendages and fully unfold it. Sabbath flinched.
"Does that hurt?" the nurse asked faintly.
"…No, not really," she replied. It didn't hurt; it was just a weird feeling. Whatever had just grown out of her back, it was sensitive. Plus, the alcohol the nurse was wiping it with made it cold. Sabbath shivered. "What is it?" she asked, afraid of the answer, but having to know.
"I'm not sure…" the nurse trailed off. After wiping down both appendages and unfolding them, she handed Sabbath a mirror. Walking her over to a larger, full-length mirror, the nurse then instructed Sabbath to stand with her back to the full mirror and use the small one to see what was reflected there. Sabbath did as the nurse told her, and as the nurse held up the back of her shirt, Sabbath saw exactly what had left everyone so disgusted and speechless.
There, below the blood-caked ends of her curly, sleep-mussed ponytail was a pair of large, black, pointy wings. As Sabbath stared, dumbfounded, at her reflection, she moved first one wing, and then the other. The joints were stiff, like a muscle that hadn't been used in a long time (or ever, in this case), yet she found she could move them easily, just like an arm or a leg. Stretched out to their full width, Sabbath estimated the wingspan to be about as wide as she was tall.
She stared, fascinated, as she flexed her new wings. Was this what the Dark Man had meant when He'd told her he'd reward her? If so, this was a terrifying gift. Or was it? True, it was very unusual, and even her own initial reaction (after pain) had been shock. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to dislike them. In fact, Sabbath found she rather liked how they looked; their spiky, black appearance contrasting with her smooth, pale skin, yet at the same time they seemed to match her dark hair and eyes perfectly. Not to mention the fact that wings probably meant she could fly. She grinned.
Suddenly remembering she wasn't alone, Sabbath turned her gaze back to the nurse, who was now totally stunned silent. The nurse had apparently dropped the hem of Sabbath's shirt when her wings had moved, but their extended joints had prevented it from sliding down her back. Realizing this, Sabbath looked over her shoulder to watch as she retracted her wings, which were still spread out, and tucked them tightly against her back. Then, reaching up and tugging her shirt back into place, Sabbath once again looked back at the nurse. Hiding her wings had seemed to snap the poor woman out of whatever horror-induced coma she'd been in. Still, neither Sabbath nor the nurse knew what more to say to the other.
After a moment, the nurse cleared her throat and said, "Well, dear, if you don't need anything else, it's very late and you should try to go back to sleep."
Sabbath was a little surprised. Was that all she had to say? 'Then again,' Sabbath thought to herself, 'What else could she say?' Muttering some kind of farewell to the Nurse, Sabbath turned and left the infirmary.
In the months that followed, things changed for Sabbath at the orphanage. Suddenly, people went from ignoring her to outright avoiding her. Now, instead of bumping into her in the halls or cutting her in the lunch line, people who saw her coming turned tail and quickly went the other way. People she talked to no longer ignored her, they didn't dare. Instead they listened with a strained, dear-lord-will-I-live-through-this-day expression. They already knew Sabbath was rather…different and that she got adopted a lot, but it seemed that seeing (or hearing about) her grow giant bat wings overnight had solidified what they all must have subconsciously felt: that she was evil, terrifying, and life-threatening.
While Sabbath never exactly liked the other people in the orphanage, she never found any reasons to hate them exactly. She'd simply never gotten to know them, since she'd spent all of her time with her sister. To her, everyone else had just been background noise. But now that Dawn had abandoned her and everyone else feared her, she began to realize just how alone she really was. She didn't like it one bit.
She began to act out in pure frustration at her unjust treatment, blaming Dawn for most of it. Between that, her new wings (which she'd taken to hiding under a bulky, man's pullover she'd dug out of the lost-and-found. The Kleins had been the ones to buy her a real hoodie. They'd been crazy, yes, but they'd never minded accommodating her uniqueness), and her ever-evolving powers, it became harder and harder for families to adopt her.
In the 6 months since she turned 16, she'd been adopted 4 times; 3, not including the Millers. She'd been with them so briefly, Sabbath didn't even bother remembering their names. Her behavior when she'd initially adopted separately from Dawn was nothing compared to this. The first family had returned her after a week and a half of rebellion and unexplainable, mini-natural disasters. The second family had been much more cheerful than most others Sabbath had seen. They'd kept her for about 2 months, having returned her when she threatened to reenact the prom scene from Carrie if they made her go to the Sophomore Winter Dance. The third family had been particularly large, and very rich. They had 5 kids (each seemingly from a different country), including a relatively new baby, when they adopted Sabbath. She never could figure out exactly why they did so, but she just figured the wife was one of those women who loved motherhood and wanted to take care of a house load of kids until she keeled over. They'd returned her about 3 months later when she'd unintentionally set the house on fire.
As time had passed, Sabbath had grown less and less frustrated with her situation. She'd come to realize that she'd be 18 soon enough, and then she'd be free to look for Dawn. She realized that acting like a monster unfortunately wouldn't make the time pass any faster.
Then, the Millers had adopted her. At the time, Sabbath knew her record had been full of various red flags and black marks too numerous to count, as well as the heavy, vague title of "Special Needs". For some reason, the Millers had felt bad for her. When they'd visited Sabbath in the orphanage, she hadn't seemed monstrous (they had yet to noticed the wings), just unhappy. They figured the "Special Needs" just meant autistic, and none of the orphanage staff seemed willing to clarify beyond saying, "She's a special girl," with a tight smile. So the Millers decided to adopt her, in hopes of turning her from a troubled youth into a normal, happy adult. They believed all she needed was Jesus' love and a happy, stable home.
Thinking back, Sabbath realized that her ominous record had probably been what inspired the Millers to be so overbearing. The cellphone, the early curfew, Principal's List, the rides to school…it all made sense, now that she thought about it.
Sabbath sighed. Understanding where the Millers were coming from didn't make it any easier to be mad at them for grounding her. Flipping open the cellphone again, Sabbath couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as the cheesy picture and scrolling, "We love you!" glowed up at her from the screen. Even if they were a little tough on her at times, Sabbath had to admit she'd definitely had to deal with worse.
In the back of her mind, she wished Dawn could be there with her. Sabbath's heart panged at the thought, she missed her twin terribly. If Dawn were living with her and the Millers here in this city, Sabbath didn't have any doubt that things would be perfect. 'Well, almost perfect,' she thought to herself. Thing hadn't been perfect since the Collins. Another twinge of pain echoed through her heart.
Rolling out of bed, Sabbath placed her new cellphone on the nightstand next to her alarm clock and strode across her room. The sun was setting now, flooding her box-filled room with a deep, pinkish-orange glow. Kneeling in front of a box labeled "Old & FRAGILE Crap" (Sabbath found that the only fun thing about moving was putting silly labels on the boxes), Sabbath ripped the duct tape off the top and pulled out handfuls of crumpled newspaper. Reaching in, she then carefully pulled out a wooden jewelry box. The Collins had given it to her, of course, along with everything that was in it. Well, given it to her and Dawn to share. However, when Dawn had run away, it seemed all she took was her Walkman, a few pairs of clothes, a flashlight, and her silver hair clip. Not having the heart to throw away any of Dawn's stuff, Sabbath had been left to tote around her sisters belongings for over six months now.
Layered underneath the jewelry box for extra padding were more of Dawn's clothes, but the jewelry box was all Sabbath was looking for. Walking away from Dawn's clothes for the moment the same way Sabbath felt Dawn had walked away from her, she carried the jewelry box back to her bed. Sitting cross-legged on her comforter, Sabbath placed the wooden box in her lap and opened it's now creaky lid. Inside were a couple necklaces, bracelets, and clip-on earrings. Most of the stuff had been just for playing dress-up. The rest was children's jewelry that Sabbath had long since outgrown but couldn't bear to part with. There was also jewelry the girls had made; simple string necklaces and bracelets. The top compartment as well as most of the box's drawers were filled with things like that.
Carefully, Sabbath pulled the whole tray out of the top of the box, revealing the hidden compartment between the top compartment and the first drawer. Sabbath remembered how fascinated she and her sister had been when they'd discovered it. There, nestled in the left-hand corner of the compartment was Sabbath's silver flower hair clip. Dawn used to keep her clip in there, too, whenever she wasn't wearing it (which honestly wasn't very often)
Setting the box aside next to the removed top tray, she carefully lifted out the clip. Red light from the setting sun glinted off its surface as she did so, making it look almost molten. Being solid silver, it was heavy in her hand, yet it was still smaller than she remembered it being when she'd gotten it. It was a simple, rounded flower shape with six petals and a small, raised circle in the middle for the flower's center. When she'd received it, it had been about the size of the palm of her hand, but now Sabbath realized it wasn't so big at all. In reality it was about half the size of her new cellphone's screen.
Sabbath felt overwhelmed with sadness as she again thought of her sister deserting her. Even though they were nowhere near identical, Sabbath had always felt that she and Dawn had shared a close bond. Maybe it was because they were all they'd ever really had, or maybe it was the unique powers they'd both been born with, Sabbath wasn't sure. All she really knew was that thing's weren't right without her around.
"You can't have one without the other," Sabbath whispered, her voice breaking and tears falling from her eyes.
Just then, Mr. Miller called up the stairs, "Sabbath, dinner's ready!" returning her thoughts to the present and shattering her cloud of melancholy nostalgia.
Quickly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat, Sabbath called back, "Be down in a minute!" Putting her hair clip back in its place, she suddenly realized she didn't want to bury the jewelry box in old clothes and crumpled newspapers anymore. Reassembling the jewelry box, Sabbath slid it onto her nightstand behind her alarm clock. Then, before she could forget, she grabbed her new cellphone off the nightstand and stuffed it in her purse, which was still on the floor with her backpack where she'd left it, before heading down to dinner.
Even though things weren't as perfect as they'd once been, things could be a lot worse. And, unbeknownst to Sabbath, things would indeed change for the worse. Soon.