I shut the water off, vaguely wishing I could turn off my emotions just as easily. Just a flip of a switch or a turn of a knob and all feeling would cease. All crippling pain and frustration would just dissolve. I could go back to blissful ignorance and forget everything that I am, and what I was birthed to be.
Work is more of the same. I just don’t have it in me to deal with obnoxious teens and volunteer to stock a new shipment of tops. It is mindless work and I welcome the change from manufactured smiles and false courtesy. Now more than ever do I feel the need to make a decision about my future so I’m not stuck in this dead end job forever. A vibration in my back pocket indicates that I have a text message, breaking me from my forlorn thoughts.
From Jared, 4:56 P.M.
-Cops were here. U ok?
So I guess Cole actually put her detective skills to use. Useless trollop, I snicker to myself.
-Yeah, I’m good. At work.
-Ok. What I said last night… I meant it.
I smile at the tender memory and instantly perk up. Life is too short to wallow in self-pity. At least my life is. And here I have this amazing, totally gorgeous, kind, generous guy that genuinely likes me. He’s all I’ve ever wanted for years and now he wants me too! Why shouldn’t I take him up on his offer? Why do I even need to think about this? Jared could have any girl he wants yet he desires me. He wants to start a life together, he said so himself. I could be completely happy with him. It’d be the best of both worlds- best friends and lovers. A true fairytale ending. Yes! This could work!
But can it? Really?
Could we really build a future together based on a lie? I could never conceal what I truly am- half Light, half Dark. Both good and evil. And how would he feel about me having supernatural powers? He’d think I was a freak, like most of the population, surely. Could I hurt him accidentally? Could I hurt others?
The thought that I could be a potential danger to society stops me up short and I let the shirt I’m holding tumble to the ground. I don’t have anyone to help me in this, no one to guide me after I ascend. I won’t know how to use my powers. My mom said so herself- I am the first of my kind. Nothing my birth mother could write in a journal could prepare me for what to expect in 12 months. She didn’t even know. She was just hopeful that I would be something great. What if mixing the two forces is harmful to me? What if that much power kills me?
In all my mental turmoil, I have lost track of time and before I know it, it’s time to go home. I pack up the rest of the merchandise, grab my stuff and leave to drive the five minutes to Briargate.
“Just in time for dinner, Kiddo,” Chris says as I enter the kitchen. He’s setting the table.
“Cool, it smells good,” I remark washing my hands at the sink. “Need any help?”
“Um, could you check the dinner rolls, honey?” my mom asks, placing a bowl of tossed salad on the table. I grab a potholder and pull the bread out of the oven. By the time I turn with the bread basket, it’s time to eat our feast of honey baked ham, mashed potatoes, roasted brussel sprouts, fresh green salad, and buttery baked rolls. Sunday dinner: a reminder that no matter what, we’re still a family.
“So the cops went by Jared’s house,” I say, scooping out some potatoes onto my plate.
“And everything ok there?” Chris asks with a raised eyebrow, as he slices his ham.
I nod as I chew and swallow. “Yeah. Like I said, we had nothing to do with Summer’s death. Dad, when I tell you this girl was wasted… She was making a fool of herself. She tried to get Jared to go home with her but when he refused, she got irate. Tried to slap him and called us all kinds of names. I swear I just gave her a good shove. Just to get her to back off.” I pop a whole brussel sprout in my mouth. Chris nods, indicating that he believes me. Between him training me to box at the gym, 10 years of Karate instruction, and my overall distaste for dumb, slutty girls, he knows I could’ve seriously hurt the girl if I wanted to. The push was a warning shot.
“That poor girl,” Donna mumbles. “I wonder if she knew whoever it was that hurt her.” She looks somber, as if her own horrid memory of her attack has come back to haunt her.
“Well, I did overhear Morgan saying that she was crying on some guy’s shoulder afterwards.” A light bulb blinks to life in my head. “Maybe if Morgan could remember what he looked like, we could find out if he’s the Warlock that’s been killing all these girls.” I reach for my soda and take a sip. “And trying to kill me.”
“Honey, even if it is him, do you realize how easy it would be for him to change his appearance?” She’s been stabbing the same piece of lettuce with her fork for several minutes. “And to think, he was that close to you.”