Bumps In The Road / Paul Lahote

9. Boiling Point

Chapter 9

"I'm a witch." There was a pause, which was proceeded by silence. Without needing my abilities, I could feel the air strain with tension, as Paul took in my words and allowed them to sink in. I watched his eyebrows pull together in thought.

"Are you...? Did you attack us?" Paul asked.

"Yes, but the first time I didn't realise it was you guys until I put two and two together afterwards. I was bored and upset at my mother for sending me here and I guess... I was looking for an outlet."

"What about when you burnt us?"

"That was an—um—unusual situation. That was the night I developed my new ability and I thought I was dreaming when I attacked you guys. But then when I woke up and came downstairs to see you all burnt, I realised..." Another pause.

"You have an ability?" He questioned slowly.

"Yes, two."

"How?"

"Uh... it's part of the package, I suppose."

"And you used us as guinea pigs?" His brows scrunched together as he looked over at me.

"No, of course not! At the time, I was feeling this really strong rage and aggression from my first ability, which can sometimes heighten my own emotions if I'm around others who are strongly feeling the same way. One thing led to another and that rage created fire. I hadn't meant to, but I attacked you guys. I'm sorry for that, by the way." He nodded.

"Okay," He paused, "I can't believe you're supernatural."

"Yup. I couldn't believe it either. What a serious coincidence that you guys are too." Another pause.

"You mentioned having a first ability... what is it?"

"Empathic physic. I can tap into how other people are feeling, I'm sort of like a walking lie detector."

"How long have you had that?" He asked.

"The empathic ability I've had since I was ten years old." Paul frowned.

"So, how long have you been a... witch?" I sensed him testing the word on his tongue and had to severely refrain myself from peeking into his emotions to sense how he felt about this news.

"Since I was born. My dad was a powerful witch and his genetics were passed on to my brother and I. My brother doesn't practice his craft like I do though, after my dad passed he didn't want anything to do with it and focused on his career."

"Is this why your leg...?" I nodded.