Hey everyone!

I've been meaning to write this…

Disclaimer: I don't own any of X-Men: Evolution, though I wish I did. The only thing I do own of this story is the plot, so don't sue me; I'm not making any profit.

On to the chapter!

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Ever Watchful Angel

Chapter 3: New Pains

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In my bathtub, I was trying to soak away all the unbearable events that occurred in the last month of my life. Not even these scorching hot waters, which I used to have to relax, could soothe all the sorrows. Grandmother must have been the dam protecting me, but as with her death, it opened the floodgates of tragedy. I didn't have to just lose the most important person in my life, oh no, I also had to find out my parents aren't my biological parents, their my godparents, and that my real parents are dead, meaning that I'm adopted, but to top it off, I also burned my vanity table, with my bare hands! I could actually deal with all of that, and maybe even get on with my life, that is, if it weren't for the beatings.

Giving up on relaxing, I get out of the tub, but after drying myself off, I don't wrap myself with the towel, instead looking at my beaten body. I have stinging cuts all over arms, from the buckle of his belt, all of them either scabs or leaking pus nicely. Also from the belt were large, aching bruises of the strap all on my legs, the worse on my outer thighs. The belt strap was also the cause of my welting whip marks on my back. My stomach had circular splotches of red, from where I was hit multiple times with a still burning hot frying pan. The most recent wounds were my slightly bleeding cuts on my ankles from when a beer bottle was smashed at my bare feet. Though, those were the ones that I could easily cover up. Covering up the redness of the slaps to my cheeks, the scratches on my face, my swollen and cut up bottom lip, not to mention my healthy shiner were more difficult though.

Sighing, I finally wrap my body with the slightly wet towel, not caring to get another one to dry my hair. What did it matter anyway, I always cover myself head to toe with as much as possible now. And the one I need to thank for all these marvellous markings would be my godfather, the man who pretended to be my father for these past seventeen years. And my godmother doesn't even try to stop him! She acts like nothing is happening! And you want to know why the sudden change of attitude, and most likely the reason he took me in, was inheritance. That's right, all he wanted was my grandmother's money, which happens to be quite a lot. I think he assumed that if he raised me, when my grandmother died, he would some, maybe a lot, of her fortune. Well, it didn't happen, I got it all, and now he thinks that if he beats me and threatens me enough I'll cave and hand over all of it to him.

Yeah, right. He's wrong to think I'm some weak and pathetic little girl to let his beatings get to me. All I have to do is survive this year, and then I can get as far as away from him as I possibly can, and live in peace. But it has only been a month since my grandmother's funeral and I'm covered head to toe with minor, but lasting, injuries. Feeling my anger rise, I promise, to myself, the only who truly matters now, that I'll die before I let him have a single cent.

My anger, and resolve, increasing, I feel myself burn up suddenly, with the sound of sizzling following shortly after. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath conjuring up calming thoughts. I feel the temperature of my body begin to cool down, and thankfully the sizzling stops. I sigh with the loosening of my shoulder muscles.

This, me burning up, literally, happens ever so often, especially when I let my emotions, mainly my anger, get the better of me. The worse incident, so far, has been when I burned my vanity table, so I guess I could consider myself lucky. I just hope I don't lose control, but it's hard. Especially when someone is constantly pushing you to your limits, almost forcing you to either snap, lose yourself, or what I'm doing and holding onto my will power, hoping I don't lose my control over someone as stupid as him.

Luckily it's just one year, and most of the time is during my last year of school. Which means, thankfully I won't be home as often, even if he is at work all day. I can no longer live in this house and stand, all the lies and his betrayal hanging all over me, crushing me all the time. And I know my godfather will send me to school, he doesn't want attention drawn to himself, though I'm amazed that we haven't already, with all those drunken nights where he's shouting so loud that he can barely whisper in the morning. I'm surprised I never caught on, I mean now that he no longer hides his true feelings, he clearly has despised me my whole life.

Returning to my bedroom, at least I get to keep that, I stare at the burn fingerprints on my vanity table. Not being able to fathom the possibility that someone could actually, physically, burn something without materials, his mind automatically went to that, in my hysterics, I didn't realize I sent it aflame with one of my lighters for all my candles. If I wasn't my grandmother's granddaughter, and had actually been there when it happened, then I would've came to the same conclusion, though I hate to admit to agreeing with him.

After getting dressed, covering up as much as possible - it's the only way I can, and want to, go out - I crawl underneath my bed, pulling a floorboard from my floor. Inside were anything precious to me, a precaution I take in case he ever came into my room, to take what he damn well pleased to take. Lowering my arm in the hole, I feel around for a silk bag. Touching the soft fabric of it, I grab it, lifting it out of its hiding place. Opening the bag I hoisted the necklace out, spinning it not only to watch it burn, but cause the dried petals to fall back into the bag. I purposely kept my necklace in this bag, knowing the petals and bag would protect the glass from breaking. Pulling the strings to close it, I slowly slid the bag back into the hole, before I placed the floorboard back in place.

Getting out from underneath my bed, I secure my necklace around my neck, setting it safely beneath my shirt. Standing up, I left my room, heading down the stairs. Reaching ground level, I hurry towards the front door. I manage to get outside, and even onto my bike, ready to go, when my godmother's question stops me. "Where do you think you're going?"

I freeze, cringing. Cursing under my breath, I turn around to face her. "I'm going to the park," I tell, not caring how I sounded, which was most likely very rude or irritated.

"Oh, well, okay," she started taken aback, sullen and shameful. "Be home for dinner, you don't want to be late."

"Whatever," I mutter, more to myself, as I ride away. I know what my godmother really meant. If I'm late for dinner, it's just another excuse for him to beat me. He'll use any excuse to beat me. Though he's drunk so often now that he'll beat me for anything, like breathing. I either try to hide in my room, or if it's really bad, I'll sneak out, so I don't have to deal with him. I've even managed, once or twice, when he's sober, to behave perfectly enough that he can't beat me. If only that could happen more often.

He doesn't even call me by my name anymore! It's either 'freak' this, or 'bitch' that, I can't stand it! I've been blessed that he's a moron, and hasn't started on my grandmother. I know I can handle anything he calls me, but I would've snapped already if he even mention her once badly. Though, yesterday I did something really strange. My godmother had asked me to tidy up the living room, and I accidentally spilled his cigarettes all over the floor. Frustrated, I unexpectedly burnt his cigarette, though I quickly put it out, so he wouldn't know. Then, later that night, I, by chance, willed the cigarette to re-catch on fire. It burnt his hand, not badly though. But he didn't know it was me, how could he? So I got off. I'm thinking about working on that aspect of my gift. I call it my 'gift', only because I know my grandmother would, so I do too.

I reach the park easily enough, placing my bike in one of the bike racks, locking it securely in place. I pass all the normal, and most common, places for people to sit and relax, and then I come to my favourite spot, and maybe it's only mine. It's in the old part of the park, where barely anyone makes the travel to visit it anymore. I sit down, leaning against the wonderfully old maple; its older leaves already tinged with red. I look up through the canopy of leaves, to the sky, just beginning to darken with the drifting of the sun. Pulling my knees to my chest, I hug them tightly, finally letting my sorrow and pain go with each tear. Placing my head in the crook between my legs, I think fondly of this place. This is the only place I feel safe and secure enough to cry about… well, everything!

"Wot's the matter, Sheila?" a voice asked, definitely male, with what sounds like an Australian accent.

I look up to see that no one was there. If I wasn't freaked out about hearing a voice with no body to accompany it, like seeing that crippled man with wings, I would have realized his tone of voice was that of someone musing, not talking to me but to himself.

"Shuddup, ya stupid Aussie! Ah thahnk she heard ya!" another voice joined in, clearly female with what it seemed of, maybe, a southern accent. She was yelling at the male, and she confirmed that he was an Australian.

"Who… who-whoever you are, I c-can h-hear both of you," I called out, cringing when I heard myself stammer so.

"Uh-oh," I hear them both say. Then it suddenly went silent. I wait a bit, but I hear not another peep of those voices. Getting up, I scan around me, to see it maybe I missed, but I don't see a single person in the vicinity of this maple. Sighing, and worrying about my sanity, I return to my bike. I ride back home gingerly, dreading the worse. I arrive home on time, and fortunately, when my godfather gets home, he is so hammered that he passes out almost immediately. So I was able to eat my dinner peacefully, eating as much as I like, and then I went to bed. Strangely enough though, tonight I didn't have any nightmares.

To be continued…

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So? How was it? Did you guys like it? Who are the voices, I wonder…? Kidding, I bet you guys can guess who they are easily. Please review!

Angel of the Fallen Stars