Hidden things- Prologue

Prologue.

Hidden Things

Chapter 1: prologue, 1997.

The commentator calls my name for the second time, then the third, his voice wavering as he realises the rink is still empty. They're waiting for me to come on. The audience grows restless, I can hear their groans of anticipation. Trying to push past the door is no use, everybody is trying to stop me.

"Nandini. Going out there would be suicide. There are people in that audience who will do everything they can to show you you're not welcome." Deb says. She's my coach, she should be on my side. I can't comprehend the fact she isn't.

"I can't just leave!" I make a break for the door into the rink, but she steps in front of me. I scoff, she has no right to stop me from doing this.

"I have no idea if these rumours are true, and you don't have to tell me, but those people out there, they're real to them!" She hisses at me, pointing to the ice-rink I should be on. "The minute you leave this hallway, you are putting yourself in danger."

I don't know how the rumours spread in the first place. And I probably shouldn't call them rumours if they're true. Perhaps someone saw me, but I rarely use my powers in public. Perhaps a friend snitched, maybe it was Vivek, my fiance. Every part of me screams that I'm wrong but I can't help but feel like it was him. I lift my fingers to my mouth and bite my nails, the glittery magenta nail-polish chips off. It's a bad habit, but my life is crumbling before me, so I couldn't care less about bad habits. By now, the commentator has stopped calling for me and has announced the next contestant. She walks by me, her powder blue dress blinds me as it's sequins sparkle under the artificial lighting. She moves closer to the wall as I stare at her, people have been avoiding me like the plague all day. I'm angry now. No longer panicked, angry.

"Fine. I won't compete." Tears spring to my eyes, burning and prickling, reminding me of my failure. Deb stays quiet, so I turn and head to my dressing room. I'm barefoot, wearing only tights, carrying my skates in my hand, but my footsteps echo in the empty corridors. I reach my room and push open the door, and it closes behind me. That's when I can't hold it any longer. All the pressure is too overwhelming, the pressure to speak out, to tell people the truth. I scream, it rips my throat and pierces my ears and yet it helps. I slide down the door, the scream only growing stronger. I'm not being overdramatic. This entire day has been hell. Somebody is behind me now, knocking, no, hammering, down the door.

"Nandini!" I don't recognise their voice.

"Please leave me alone!" I screech, they shut up. I sit there for a little while longer, regaining my breath. I feel powerless. As if I'm being thrown around a ship, with no control of its destination or direction. I hate it, I hate that people care so much about this. It's so frustrating. I get up, my dress crumpled and my hair tangled. My throat is aching. If I could, I'd stay locked in this room forever, but Deb has just told me she's called a taxi. I look in the mirror, surrounded by its glowing bulbs and sockets for hairdryers and equipment alike. My makeup has practically disappeared, apart from traces of mascara down my cheeks. I wipe them off, not wanting to seem vulnerable. But I think I screwed that up with my horror movie-esque scream. I brush out my ringlets, back to my natural curls, not ones that took up an hour of my life to form. And I braid it, fastening it with a bobble. It takes everything I have to open the door and step out, 3 different people are staring at me concerned like I'm a helpless toddler recovering from a tantrum. It takes me a second to notice, as my eyes are still blurry, but one of them is security. The other is somebody in charge of the competition because she's holding a clipboard with all our names, and then there's Deb, of course. I blank them, not wanting to discuss my breakdown, a breakdown that's been a long time coming, and I head for the front of the arena, then towards the exits. I stop in my tracks, however. Because I've just seen what awaits me outside. Reporters and paparazzi, news vans and cameras. The cameras flash and they scream questions at me before I've even stepped outside. The woman with the clipboard pushes open the doors, sending those outside toppling over each other. Security leads me and Deb out, he shoves us forward and blocks those around us, but I can still hear their questions.

"Miss Dhar, is what we've heard true? Are you a witch?" someone shouts.

There is it, that word. I was waiting for someone to be brave enough to say it. To say what they're all thinking.

Deb sighs as we make our way out of the sea of people, tsking and huffing. We make it to our taxi, the driver's eyes widen as we sit down. Before this week, nobody outside of my profession knew who I was. Now everybody and their mother does. He starts driving, pulling out of the rink's car park, leaving all the reporters and their cameras and their vans behind.

I can't say I didn't expect an uproar. Somebody in the spotlight with powers is very rare.

But that one woman's question replays in my head, and I answer it.

Yes, my name is Nandini Dhar, I'm 25, I'm a pro-figure-skater.

And I'm a witch.

At least that's the most common name for people like me. Although it feels wrong. Crowds continue to swarm the taxi down the street, their screams and questions are so blunt, the word witch is thrown around multiple times. I place my hands tight over my ears to block them out, to pretend this isn't happening. Half of these people probably have no idea who I am, just the fact that I'm currently involved in one of the biggest scandals of this year. And that's sure to get them a good story. Finally, the crowds have begun to disperse and the road ahead is clear. Alas, the hell is far from over.

I swear on my life, I wouldn't wish this on anybody. Not even my greatest enemy. Not even the cab driver, who sneaks me wary side glances every few seconds. If I could, I'd prevent anybody from going through this.

I may have powers, but I don't have the power to stop that.