out of miracles

- chapter one -

tw: light attempts at violence

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I hate my brain.

From the time I made that woman drop her kid to the time I made someone jump off a bridge, I've never had good experiences with it.

It was all accidental, though – I promise. And the last time I purposely stuck my brain into someone else's was years ago. I've learned my lesson.

I'm glad Mom's far away. She's the only exception. If she's far away, it'll be more difficult, and I'll have much more of a chance at stopping myself. 

Sinking into the couch, I realize how stupid I must be to have to restrain myself from reading someone's mind. How reckless. Even if it's my own mother, it's dangerous. I'm a murderer. I'm controlling, even when I don't want to be. Especially when I don't want to be.

It's strangely still outside, now that I'm looking. The snow is settled, the wind is calmed. The windows are icy.

I wonder if she's okay.

The power's been out for hours, now. My flashlight is flickering, but I don't want to get up and get batteries. The blanket I'm under is the only thing keeping me warm.

After a minute of sitting in the darkness, the wind picks up again. I'm getting desperate. Mom was probably supposed to be home by now, but I don't know what time it is. For all I know, it's only five.

I wait for five more minutes. The wind swirls outside. At least I have a roof over my head.

After two minutes, it's snowing again. Either I'm going crazy, or there's a siren. How could they be driving now?

Something bangs on the door. I wonder if it's a branch. Maybe I'm imagining it.

It's rhythmic, now, like someone's knocking. I shake my head. Even if someone is there, I know better than to open the door for strangers.

I turn my eyes back down to the dead flashlight. The knocking continues.

A gust of wind picks up my hair and sends sudden goosebumps up and down my arms as a loud thud cuts off my train of thought. I turn to see the door lying flat on the ground and the silhouettes of two people standing in the doorway.

The blanket falls off my shoulders as I stand, frantically thinking how to fend them off. I don't know who these people are—all I know is that they're crazy to be here in this weather.

I find myself in the kitchen. I look back and forth between the drawers and the people standing in the doorway. They're inching toward me.

What the hell is happening?

I find a steak knife. Definitely not the best weapon, but I can't find any other knife in the dark. Well, I find plenty of butter knives, but they definitely won't help in the slightest.

The knife almost instantly flies out of my hand. That's...strange. I didn't throw it, and they definitely aren't near enough to knock it out of my hand.

Before I have enough time to think about this, wondering if maybe I did accidentally throw the knife across the kitchen, it's at my throat.

It's just floating there. I freeze.

Slowly, I reach up and wrap my fingers around the handle. I try to pull it away, but it's stuck there. It won't budge.

"Just cut her throat," one of them says. Their voice is low and soft, but loud enough for me to hear over the wind. Now that they're closer, I see they're both wearing masks covering half their faces. I can't tell if it's for warmth, but they definitely don't look like they'd be that effective if that really is their purpose.

"What if she's the one?" the other one asks, glancing over at their partner. "She'd be useful."

"It's been three years," the first person says. "I doubt it."

As I attempt to process their words, the knife clatters to the floor, only gently scraping my skin. "I won't kill you," the second says. Their eyes look slightly amused. I stare at them both.

"Do you have a voice?" the first one says.

"Who—what..." I ask, trying to formulate a question. Anything at all to say. "Why wouldn't you kill me?"

I know the reason. There are consequences to killing people, and they're at least smart enough to know that.

"Good question," the first person says, glancing at their partner. "Why don't we?"

"She's innocent," the second says sternly.

"And I have a family," I say, my voice oddly snappish.

The second person winces at that. I frown.

"What do you want? I'll give it to you," I say. My hands are shaking. "We have money." That's a lie. "Food, anything."

"What about you? Will you come with us for a day or so?" The second person asks. I almost laugh. What a thing to ask.

"My god, just take her," the first says, sounding exasperated. "You can't ask someone if they want to be kidnapped. You think she'll say yes? Go start the van, idiot."

The second person shakes their head and turns to go. I don't take my eyes off their partner, who's still standing by the kitchen counter.

There's a blinding pain in the back of my head, and the world goes dark before I can run.