I had to find a way to tell my parents. It was inevitable. After my meeting with John I had somehow lost two days in the mix. Thus my parents reported me as missing, and were certainly not happy with my explanation of "I was here the whole time!" Although, I think the truth at the time would have been more of a stretch.
I had begun to control my gift. Over the next two months, I practiced good concentration. I was able to pick times and places, and travel there at will. I don't think I ever went anywhere that was of any significance in particular. I just practiced. I was able to take mini vacations. I could spend an entire week anywhere I'd like, and come home with only a few minutes lost. It was time to tell my parents. Or show them.
"I know what the black outs are from." It was the only way to start.
They thought I was insane. Absolutely, positively insane. I tried explaining I had a gift, that I really was as special as they always told me. I was one of a kind. It fell deaf ears.
I can't really remember much of the argument. I think it's mostly due to the fact that I chose to block it out. They insisted on me going upstairs to rest, and that they were going to call the doctor. I told them I'd prove it to them, and I did.
I went to a beach. I couldn't tell you which beach it was, just that I was there, and was alone. I walked for a while trying to gather my thoughts. I knew when I would come home that there would be more turmoil waiting for me. I remember thinking that I just wasn't in a rush to get back. The sound of the waves crashing the shore sent a sense of comfort through me. I thought that they would accept me. They would help me once they understood better, once they had time to let it sink in. I slept there that night. When I woke, I decided it was time to come home.
The house was empty. Literally, empty. Everything was gone. Furniture, décor, everything. Gone.
I hadn't been gone that long! I had been well practiced at this point. I was only gone for a day, two at the most. I ran upstairs to my parent's bedroom and opened the door. Empty. Two doors over was my room, I shuffled over and opened the door. Everything was there. My stuff, it was just where it's always been.
On my bedside table was a shoe box with a note on top. I tore open the envelope and read.
"We're sorry. –Mom and Dad."
That was it. Nothing else. An empty hearted apology. Were they apologizing for me being the way I am, or was it an apology for abandoning me when I needed them the most. Both?
I lifted the lid of the shoe box. Cash. Lots of cash.
My eyes swelled with tears, and my heart ached. I knew I couldn't stay there anymore either. This house; that was once filled with love, and understanding, that was once my home, wasn't any longer.
I grabbed my backpack, filled it with some clothing, and essentials, I stuffed in the shoe box with the cash my parents left me, and slung it over my back. I walked down stairs and took one more brief look around. I wiped a stray tear from my cheek, and with all he strength I could muster, I warped out of this life, and into a new one.