NOTE: This is written in first person; Elina is speaking.

Sigh

So…I slept with Nick. The moments spent with him set me free for a time, but there was the issue of my father. He wasn't ever going to know I loved Nick. He'd kill me, or rather, he'd give me guilt trips galore and cry like a pussy. The beginning of summer was nothing but lies to my father—I wanted to see Nick more, and we were secretly going steady. I loved him; he was so generous and very nice to me…very loving…just, all around amazing. Sigrid and I grew closer, and Anna was like my little sister. I loved his family as much as him.

In the meantime, I neglected my friends—I would tell my father I was hanging out with them, but in all honesty, I hadn't even picked up the phone to talk to any of them when the school year ended. Steph was nice, Ashley was cool, and Lisa was far-out, but my best friend of them all was Nick. The girls were the coolest clique in school, but they were also heavy gossips and told people's secrets. I didn't want that to happen to me, and I knew I was in good hands with Nick. I could trust him with anything, tell him anything on my mind. Well, with some exceptions. I never told him I had powers and I never, ever told him I was in an incestuous relationship with my father. That would just make things sour between us; he'd be freaked out of his mind.

Nick would take me to the movies, out to dinner, a walk along the beach in the hot, summer sun, go to the arcade, and even the carnival. Oh, that's right! The carnival! I remember thinking, oh my god, my father is working. I tried to talk Nick out of it, but he wouldn't listen.

"There's a Ferris wheel," he told me convincingly. I had my arms crossed.

"Can't we go to the beach?" I asked.

"We already went three times this week," he reminded me.

"Shit," I muttered.

I reluctantly followed along with him; I didnot want my father to see us and come charging over at Nick like a bull just to beat the shit out of him for stealing his "precious little girl". For the first two hours, we were alright, but then a familiar voice made itself known where we were standing with cotton candy and candy apples—it was booming, theatrical, charismatic. I looked over and my eyes widened.

"Tickets! Come get your tickets! Can't play any games without 'em! Come and get 'em!"

It was my father—in his stupid, striped carnival uniform, addressing people buying tickets and distributing them. My knees were shaking, and I began to feel nauseous. I can't believe he didn't notice me! My hair was a dead giveaway, being as platinum as it was. What the fuck?

"Nick," I said, grabbing his hand. I pulled him away from the scene, and he looked at me strangely with his bright blue eyes.

"Elina, what the hell?" he asked, annoyed with me. "We have to get tickets, anyway."

"NO!"

I pulled him into a small, vacant tent and stared up at him—he pissed me off, and the fact that my father was right there in front of our faces…what?! I told him why he and I had a secret relationship! God, men are so stupid sometimes. Once I closed the curtain, I walked up to him and slapped him cold across the face. He flinched, holding where I slapped him with the palm of his hand. I hissed, but didn't scream, at him.

"Nick, are you stupid?" I asked demeaningly.

"Why'd you hit me for? Jesus," he muttered, aggravated by the situation.

"I told you why we have to be secret!" I added forcefully. "If my dad finds out, we'll both be in trouble. You'll be beaten up, and I'll be locked in a closet forever! Don't you see that?"

"Ok, ok," he said, rolling his eyes. "What do you want to do then?"

"Take me home!" I demanded.

"Oh, don't be like that."

"I have to be, Nick!" I shouted. "You don't listen! One ear out the other! This was a bad idea, and I told you why."

"So, let's get away from here," he offered. I felt a sharp pang in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"I don't feel so good," I groaned. "Just…take me home, ok?"

He did what I told him. He was even nice enough to come up into our apartment and tuck me in on the couch with a blanket and some ginger ale. He asked if he could stay with me, and I said no. I remember those clear blue eyes gazing down at me as I rested my head against the soft arm of the couch, and I felt his hand graze my tummy—strangely, he pulled it away. I hadn't done anything.

Our next date, he took me to see E.T: The Extraterrestrial. I didn't have a problem, and I was dressed well—lime green shirt with black shorts held up by suspenders, bobby socks with orange jelly shoes, an orange bow in my ponytail; he sure liked what he saw. He paid for popcorn with extra butter and got me some strawberry ice cream. That was my favorite flavor, especially with chocolate sprinkles and a cherry on top. We watched the movie, laughed at points, especially when Elliot's little sister dressed up the alien in her clothes…then a sharp pang stabbed me in the stomach again. I felt nauseous, and I gagged, covering my mouth as I ran out of the row of seats. Nick watched me, and he followed me. He ran after me as I ran down the widely-spaced steps and out the door of the theatre. I found the nearest bucket and hurled all in it. I felt like total shit, and it just kept coming out. I felt a hand reach to my shoulder, and I smacked it away. Once I was done hurling, I looked at Nick, who was the one behind me.

"Oh my god," he said with concern. "Are you ok?"

"Do I look ok?" I asked, being sarcastic.

"Easy, now," he said, patting my shoulder. "I just asked if you're ok."

"Well, I'm not, ok?" I snapped.

"Well, it must be the popcorn or something. Maybe a bad batch," he suggested.

"Ugh," I scoffed, pulling a cigarette out of my pocket. "That has nothing to do with it." I was mindlessly rambling; I looked away and ignited the cigarette with my mind, taking a drag as the nicotine burned my throat. I blew out the smoke, looking at Nick and sighing.

"Well, where do you want to go now?" he asked. "My place?" I saw him wink—the last time we had done it was on the beach. I was in my swimsuit, and once he tore the top off, we had sex; we were the only ones on the beach.

"I don't know, Nick," I said, groaning a bit.

"Look, tell me what you want," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. "I'll make it happen."

"Ok," I said. I glanced away, taking another puff of my cigarette. Nick chuckled and led me down the hall to a bench, sitting me down as he took a seat next to me, his arm around my shoulder as I took several consecutive puffs of nicotine. He smelled sweet, like he was wearing a good cologne. I rested my head on him and continued to smoke, blowing out whatever my lungs rejected as I heard him cough.

"Damn," he muttered, coughing slightly.

"You have a problem?" I asked; I was in no mood to be lectured for smoking. A teacher had lectured me once for smoking in the girl's room back in Barnwell, but other than that, I never got crap.

"Just…the smoke, that's all," he replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, suck it up," I chided, playfully hitting his arm.

"Ah, ow," he giggled, feeling where I hit him. "You're so mean. I love you, though."

"I love you, too," I said with abandon.

We went back in and finished the movie, and he was nice enough to walk me home. Street lights were on, and it was quite hot outside, so it wasn't totally bad other than the occasional mosquito or moth flying around. My feet were somewhat tired by the time I came up to the house, and I looked up at Nick and smiled gently. I could feel the fire in my eyes burning lovingly.

"Goodnight, Elina," he said to me with a smile, kissing my cheek.

I said the same to him, and quietly walked up the steps into the building and walked up the flight of stairs leading to our apartment. I opened the door, sticking the key in and turning it, and stepped in—it was really dim, and once I put the light on higher, I peered around in search for my father. Strangely, there was no TV on, no radio playing, not even the faintest sound. It was hauntingly silent.

"Hello?" I called out. "I'm home."

I walked toward the living room area and gasped at the eerie sight of a furious gaze hidden behind dark eyes, all directed at me. I saw my father sitting there, a catatonically expressionless face being a mask over his true feelings. It was very scary to see, and I noticed that the stubble he had forgotten to shave made him look all the creepier. In fact, I didn't know what was on his mind at the moment, but I slowly approached him and looked down at him as my feet crept me closer to him. When I stopped, I was at a safe distance—something was wrong.

"Dad?" I asked. "I'm home. Are you ok?" He furrowed his lips inward as if to grit his teeth, but he said nothing. A few moments of silence passed before he let any words escape his mouth.

"I called your friends," he said solemnly.

"Why? How did you get their number?" I asked. I was extremely suspicious, perhaps even worried. Had something happened to them? I gasped a bit when I saw tears roll down his face—he sobbed, whining slightly as he spoke with a broken voice.

"You haven't been with them, have you?" he asked me. I looked down at him, feeling the fire inside turn to rage—how could they have betrayed me, my own friends? Bitches!

"You…you haven't been with them," he repeated, crying his eyes out. I took a step back but listened to what he had to say. "One of them…they said you…" He burst out crying for a brief moment. "You have been seeing this boy…that…kid…from the football team…dating…seeing each other everyday since we've moved here…" He wailed for a moment, looking up at me with furiously sad eyes. "Is it true, Elina? Is it true?" I kept my cool, looking down at him condescendingly—I not only hated Steph, Lisa and Ashley for betraying me, but I hated my father was well; his sick, twisted idea of love with the only person he has. My mother had died, so he moved onto me—he didn't love me. He just used me.

"And what if it is?" I asked. He gasped and wailed again, sobbing into those grotesque, deformed hands he had touched me with so many times.

"Why would you do that?" he cried, bearing his heart on his sleeve. "I love you…so much…I care about you more than I do myself…I went clean for you…I stopped drinking for you…and THIS IS WHAT YOU DO?"

His sudden burst of anger through tears, surprisingly, didn't scare me. Hell, it would take a lot to scare me at that point. I knew I had to get even with those bitches I once called my friends, but this was a bigger problem I had to tackle. He stood up and looked down at me, thinking I'd be afraid, but my expression was blank—I felt nothing, not even the unconditional love a daughter is supposed to have for her father. Nothing. My heart was empty for the first time in my life. It was only the eternal flame that burned in my heart from which I could feel the heat of my power. I felt nothing.

"Well, you've been doing with that, dad," I said casually. "Keep up the good work."

"I'm serious!" he said forcefully. "I love you, Elina! Please! Why did you do that? You hurt me!"

"Dad, you're sick." I finally had the guts to say it—he was sick. No widowed father in his right mind would settle on his daughter for romantic love. It just didn't happen. It was very unnatural. "Have you been seeing a psychologist, too?"

"ELINA! STOP IT!" he shouted. "I love you! You're all I want, and you're all I have!"

"I'M YOUR DAUGHTER!" I screamed, feeling the potential of my power build up within. "…and you're my father. This is not right. You may say you love me, but really, you're just using me as a substitute for mamma. Ever since mamma died, you've been a wreck. You…somehow snapped in the head." I got slightly teary-eyed but held everything back like a floodgate about to burst open from the force of a tempest. "I know you miss her a lot, dad. You loved her and the ground she walked on, but she's gone now, and—"

SMACK!

He smacked me right across the face.

He had never hit me before. Ever. Not even in his drunken stupors. He had only done it to my brothers. Never to me.

I fell to the floor; he yelled down at me.

"DON'T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT HER AGAIN!" he screamed, continuing to cry through his pernicious rage. "YOU BROKE MY HEART AND MY TRUST! I CAN'T HELP HOW I FEEL! I CAN'T JUST ROLL THEM UP IN A BALL AND STUFF THEM BACK INSIDE!" He paused. "As for your little boyfriend, I'LL KICK HIS ASS TO CURB AND TELL HIM TO NEVER COME BACK!"

I felt the rage build within, and my power seemed to know no bounds. It had hurt when he hit me, but him treating me like I was property was the worst mistake he would ever make. I got on my feet and extended a hand, feeling intense levels of heat develop as I projected fire at my father. My own father. I never thought of doing this. It caught on his shirt, and he screamed as I watched the flames singe his clothing and begin searing through the upper layers of his flesh. Unfortunately, it stopped when I saw him stop, drop and roll. The fire went out, but I immediately booked it and ran out of the apartment with him on my tail.

Running out of the building, I ran as fast as I could down the street, dodging obstacles like trash cans or mailboxes as I glanced behind me and saw him running after me. I was driven by fear to move faster, and it was a wonder my legs didn't give out underneath me. I heard him scream out for me; it was repeated a sickening amount of times at the same volume.

"Elina! Elina! Come back! Please!" he shouted. I didn't acknowledge it, I just kept running for my life.

I sprinted non-stop; I began getting tired, but the fear of my father and what he would do gave me the drive to keep moving, and soon, I saw the back of someone's head. Someone familiar, I remember the hair being flaxen, a dark blonde color. He turned around and faced me, gasping in terror as he saw me. I held my arms out, hoping to catch him.

Those blue eyes were my refuge. Clear as the day I hoped I would live to see.

Hey, Keri here! I hope you're enjoying the story. As you can see, it's coming to a close. It's quite intense, huh? Maybe too intense? =_=

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