V. Those Are Thorns Around Her Heart

It's obvious why she brought them to the park on such a lovely evening; what with the sunny rays pouring onto the grass and the birds singing their little tones that reminded Jimena of some Disney movie. It was in public, with many onlookers to see just in case she or Serena did anything to harm Catty, who sat on the bench, warily eyeing them beside her (particularly Serena).

"So… what to talk about then?"

"Our powers, our situation, what to do—"

"Do nothing," Catty said shortly, the thread of a smile stretching on her face (although it appeared tight due to her obvious discomfort). "Maybe there are others in the world, and it's just a mutation at birth or something? It doesn't matter. It's not like we're here to save the world or anything like that!" A breeze whistled by, blowing the leaves about. Catty pulled the hood of her sequin-encrusted hood over her head, sunshiny brown locks hanging in front of her dull eyes. Jimena couldn't help but see the darkness in her face as… sinister. It seemed naturally embedded to her, a thick aura of evil that not even Catty herself noticed.

Serena coughed, interrupting her thoughts. "Or perhaps we are meant for something great."

"I prefer staying on the sidelines."

"And I prefer seeking out a reason for these powers," Serena replied coolly, not at all as snappish or cheeky as someone's tone normally was. She was continuously calm and casual, unaffected by almost everything. It reminded Jimena of a stoner; all droopy eyelids, twitchy smiles, and that tinge of clumsiness always laced through each word.

They were each freaks, and it had nothing to do with their individual powers.

A smile tugged at Catty's lips. "I am adopted. Wonder if my parents dropped me off in some orphanage after discovering that I had these weird powers. No mother or father wants a weirdo, freaky child, after all."

"Awful parents, I suppose," Serena responded, "who care little for their child."

Catty leaned forward and plucked a brown-stained leaf off the ground. After examining it for several seconds—her expression that of a dreamy daze—, she crunched it between her fingers and slumped against the bench. A hint of sorrow plagued her face momentarily before she said, quite breezily, "Serena, if you can read minds"—that same tone of fright—"why not look into my past, look through all those memories?"

The telepath hesitated, absently rubbing a finger along each cuticle. "I'm not sure that would be an intelligent move. Even going days back and I could be lost in your thoughts. I could go into a coma state, maybe—"

"No, then."

She shook her head pitifully.

"Whatever." Luxuriously stretching her arms, hands reaching for the sun, Catty slid to her feet and stared down at them. A shadow cast across her face from the hood. "I'm leaving. I'll tell Vanessa about this brief conversation. See you at school." Flicking her head to face the other way, she stalked off, hands in her pockets, a gloomy figure with hunched shoulders, bright green leggings, a ripped jean-skirt, and a cherry red jacket raised to reveal a pale stomach swollen with a single bruise. Only Serena noticed; Jimena merely glared toward the ground, frustrated with the lack of concern from the time-traveling teenager.

"She's a freak."

Serena cocked an eyebrow.

"And a whore…"

"Jimena!" Serena scorned, teeth piercing through the flesh of her bottom lip as she contained the outburst. Something troubled her, Jimena could tell. Once emerald orbs were dulled with pain, and an expression hinting to ambiguous thoughts crossed her face. That tone, it sliced through Jimena… It was the tone belonging on to a mother; a shrill voice of scolding that was only reserved for mothers, a parent of true affection and lovingness for her child.

Amelia, had been her name, Jimena recalled through a tangled mess of memories. A woman of Puerto Rican descent and coppery-colored skin flushed a slight, bruise-like purple created from a mixture of smuggled cocaine and prescription medicines needed ever day to keep the AIDS and HIV at bay. Amelia had been the reason for their real poverty. That medicine cost thousands a month. You needed to pay to stay alive in this country… pay a lot so those filthy bastards in the government could bath themselves in the Benjamin's earned.

Rich motherfuckers.

Amelia was long gone, having run off with some 20-year-old boy loaded with some cash, probably for being some drug-dealer. Lucinda's health deteriorated greatly after that impulsive event. Jimena had barely hit the age of ten.

"I'm sorry."

Serena's smooth voice shattered these thoughts.

"Don't be."

"I have to be."

Jimena rubbed her temples, unable to comprehend this girl.

OOO

Serena slouched as she trudged through the thin curtain of rain. She barely looked up, too preoccupied trying to ignore the shadows dancing around each corner of the abandoned buildings. Instead, she stared at the addresses, sometimes glimpsing down at the battered paper in hand. It wasn't difficult to find the building—what with the few cars around it, and several kids standing outside, cigarette smoke curling into the air. All other buildings were vacant, a ghost of a house, rats probably scurrying around for the bits of food littered across the ground.

The Dungeon, Zahi had called it. He had invited her, saying she'd find him inside. The smokers gazed savagely at her, their eyes dark. She ignored them and quietly entered through the open door. A narrow hallway led far down to the other side. The vague trace of music reached her ears. Smiling timidly, Serena stalked down the dusty hall, warmed by the candles on the tables, wax melting to the floor. She kicked an apple core out of the way and watched as it tumbled to the feet of a couple locked in a ferocious embrace of sloppy kisses and tangled limbs.

"Here we go," she whispered once reaching a door. Opening it, her fingers trembling with anticipation, she observed that it was only a smaller hallway, short in distance. Smoke seethed near the end. Some girls grinded against each other inside the mist, decked out in total black, garish makeup, and chains. She glanced down at her own attire: torn jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt. If she would have gone with her normal clothes, she might have fit in perfectly. Whatever. She just continued forward.

Serena blanched once reaching the smoggy end.

"Find him in here?"

The entire area wasn't too lengthy, but the thick mist, the changing lights, and the sea of boys and girls crowded beside one another—all crammed together—would make it a seemingly impossible task to spot Zahi anywhere. And of course, each person wore what he usually did: thick black attire. The corners of the room appeared dangerous, the shadows whipping around as if possessing a life of their own.

Oh, great…

Her eyes landed on the blonde girl she had bumped into the other day—along with the others. Yvonne: that was her name. Yvonne, whose platinum-blonde hair shimmered under the lights, smirked up at the handsome boy from before, Stanton, who in turn remained apathetic. Even from afar, Serena could very clearly study, although warily, the deep aqua-blue of his irises, an endless blue sky that seemed almost entrancing to the point of mindlessness. Shaking her head, she stalked the other way, bumping against dancers.

"There you are."

The almost lyrical voice murmured into her ear, a sweet and unspoken promise of love, desire, and loyalty that nearly made her jump out of her skin. Warm hands greeted her hips in a magnetic motion, two souls joined together. These thoughts near frightened her. Yet, as the hands roamed her sides and ruffled her shirt—hands obviously belonging to Zahi—, she couldn't push them away, and after years of never receiving the affection she'd craved for… well, she didn't want to push any of it away.

Never.

Zahi swiveled her around to face him, lustrous eyes chaining her to him. "I was hoping you'd come to me tonight." Serena leaned into him, the phantom hands of lust lacing through her nerves and mind and commanding her. She wasn't herself, that was palpable, but again, the need for physical contact wasn't ever going away.

"Not meeting your expectations?"

"What?"

He smirked, the notion delicious. "The club, I mean."

"I wasn't sure what to expect with a title like the Dungeon," she admitted, briefly examining the dark corners of the room. A burly man stood in front of a massive wooden door—one that should belong in medieval times—, grimacing furiously. She imagined a gloomy hallway, dripping water, broken pipes, cells with rusted bars, and cobblestone ground, the true image of a dungeon, before the previous thoughts over Zahi tugged at her mind; shattering these pictures. She gazed back up at him, eyelids fluttering.

"Perhaps a Dungeon?" he teased, yet his voice held an unexpected edge.

"Perhaps…" She smiled sweetly, completely entranced.

Zahi's smirk widened.

OOO

Hours seemed to pass for Serena. She and Zahi had danced closely to each other, spoke quietly to one another about superficial conversation, and all other ridiculous things such as quick side-glances and pathetic smiles of awkwardness; at least on her part. Zahi appeared completely engulfed by confidence the entire evening. It was when she contemplating leaving, exhausted, when he asked, "I'm going to visit the bar for a moment. Want anything?"

"No, thank you."

Zahi briefly caressed her hand, his fingers now cold, before sauntering away. Serena pressed against the wall, breathing uneven with wavering apprehension and thrill. A cool hand rested on her shoulder, jerking her away from her thoughts over Zahi, and with a start, she stumbled back, bumping into a man reduced to an intoxicated state, breath reeking of alcohol.

"So terribly sorry…"

A slender female situated herself in front of Serena, hands digging into the pockets of her baggy jacket. The hood of it was pulled over her head, disguising the face, yet several white-blonde hairs tumbled out from it. The makings of some bird's head, a darker shade than the jacket, appeared at the tip of the hood. It seemed familiar, but before Serena could observe it more closely, the girl yanked at her arm.

"I have something to show you."

Serena clicked her tongue ring nervously. "Um, well… I have to—"

The girl stared upward, face still cloaked by shadow, yet the luminescent, glowing blue orbs appeared. Serena's heart nearly stopped. She took a staggering step backward, but the hand caught her wrist and tugged her dangerously close. Those blue eyes seemed to have hands, for she felt captured; fingers digging into her skin and forcing to gaze into them endlessly. Something deep within her core simply vanished, and a numbing ache, like some sort of virus, swelled all throughout her body, commanding her to its will.

"Your future is ahead."

"My future?" Serena responded robotically, uncomprehending.

"Your destiny. The Fates have already begun spinning it." Those slender, grimy fingers clasped her upper arm and forced the fabric of the sleeve up, revealing the half-crescent mark etched into the pale coppery skin. A feral hunger and viciousness passed by, a thick aura that consumed Serena in its wide arms of welcome. The girl swept a finger across the mark, and to Serena's astonishment, it began burning, the bottom of it suddenly vanishing. The emptiness inside her stabbed at her, the once previous human emotions dwindling dangerously low to nothing.

Serena's eyes fluttered as a heavy darkness crossed her vision. A small ghost of a snicker echoed in her head.

"Serena!"

A deep female voice pierced her ears. The human emotions and her vision snapped back together with a start, the hollow ache that worked as a virus fading. Serena watched, slightly awestruck, as the hooded girl whirled around and sprinted away, disappearing into the crowd. Jimena, lips strewn into an infuriated scowl, gripped her arm and towed her through the crowd.

"Goddess," someone hissed, and just like that, insults were flying everywhere, hands snatching at Serena. Jimena clutched the young, dazed telepath to her chest, seemingly protective beyond reason, and jerked through the dancers. Some stared, questioning as to what was happening, while others—the ones with the darkness in their eyes—spat out insults and curses, one even swiping at Jimena with a fist, who ducked down easily.

"Filthy wretch!"

"Moon-marked demon!"

"Why don't you just go back to Selene?!"

"Stupid bitch!"

All of it disappeared once they were sprinting out of the building, the smokers laughing boisterously after them. Serena was roughly shoved into an old, battered car, before Jimena slipped into the other side, stabbing the key into the ignition. Rumbling to life, the car shook as it went over large rocks and broken items of the abandoned road. Serena's head throbbed painfully. Her arms and legs trembled with exhaust and fright, threatening to overtake her. Grasping the seat, she hoped she wouldn't collapse.

"I had a premonition," Jimena explained rapidly, eyes darting everyone as she stared ahead; fingers clenching the steering wheel tightly as the swerved onto an actually populated street. "I knew where you were because I've been to that club before. It's peligroso, Serena. They're all just a bunch of psychopaths."

"I think I've realized that now," Serena mumbled, wondering if the muddled words were coherent.

"Who was that girl?"

"Who were all of those people? I mean, they were terrifying… but the girl, she was… the worst."

Jimena gritted her teeth. "What happened?"

"She did something to me. I felt like all my emotions were gone, like I'd never be happy ever again. Just staring into her eyes was terrible enough." Serena sighed, worn out, wanting nothing more than hide away under the covers of her bed. "But there is something I'm certain of, especially after the way she made the crescent mark on my arm disappear slightly"—Jimena gasped involuntarily—"and it's that…"

"What?"

Serena gazed out the window, whispering, "She wasn't a human being… not anymore, at least."

OOO

Vanessa slammed the locker shut. Anger boiled under her skin; face hot with an intense jealousy. Several lockers down, Catty remained pinned against the wall, Kyle's hand resting above her head as he leaned down, each word seemingly dazzling her as they flirted and sniggered over tedious topics. Catty pursued her lips, puckering them—lips a deep shade of red. Now and again, an attractive pink blush would crawl under her cheeks.

"Stupid…"

Vanessa leaned against the locker, observing the brunette beauty and handsome boy. They were nothing more than fuck-buddies. Yet, the term seemed odd. Catty always came off as whorishly bold and smiled flirtatiously. She wouldn't allow her virginity to slip away… right? The idea of that heartbreaking boy tangled together with Catty under damp sheets repulsed Vanessa. Catty deserved more. Catty needed someone better.

And Vanessa needed to show her that.

"Hey, Vanessa."

She didn't need to look. Michael, it was always Michael. Yet she looked for his benefit. He smelt of icy mint, a sweet fragrance the peppered the air around him. Damp black locks framed his hard-featured face, disheveled. She would admit his handsomeness. Yet, at the moment as a light bulb flickered to life in her head, she cared little for his undeniable attractiveness, but more for his unrestrained obsession for her.

It's a good idea, she reassured herself, and rushed to devise her words just as Catty strolled forward, Kyle's arm draped around her shoulder in a bold manner that, seemingly, pleased the brunette. Masking her contempt for the heartthrob—both of them, Kyle and Michael—, Vanessa plastered a sugary smile on her face that would launch a thousand ships; not could.

Her beauty was a fact.

"So, would you like to hang out Friday night?"

Michael's entire complexion paled to an almost yellowy-coloring. He gaped for several seconds. From the corner of her eyes, Vanessa spotted the astonishment that formed on Catty's face, twisting her expression into an open-mouthed and wide-eyed stare. Another emotion—betrayal, maybe?—flicked across the brunette's brown eyes, but Vanessa only wanted to cause as much pain as possible for the suffering she had been forced to endure the past week and at the moment.

"Y-Yeah… I'd l-love to."

She yanked his hand, pressing against her, and scrawled her number on his palm with a pen found in her pocket. "Call me," she murmured, leaning forward as to let her luxurious words caress his ear, light as a feather. See, I can flirt, too, slut, her mind added as an even more pronounced amount of bemusement formed on Catty's face.

"I will," Michael promised, staggered, as he stalked away, probably lost in his daydreams of their future marriage. Stupid moron.

"We should double date."

Vanessa smirked at Kyle. He didn't even know how much that statement helped her plan; her cliché, yet effective plan of making Catty jealous beyond reasoning. Vanessa knew that Catty loved her.

Catty just had to figure it out herself.

OOO

AN: I'd say Vanessa's a real bitch. But hey, she's a Daughter of Pandora, right? Sorry for the long wait. When I was fixing my computer, I lost my writing files for a long while and found it a few days ago. All good now. :)