Layla

Chapter Eight: Friends

Exhausted.

Mentally and physically exhausted.

That's how Layla felt as she stood in the middle of her dingy apartment. With tired legs, she walked over to the kitchen, throwing the house key on the counter. She listened as the key clanked on the cracked tile countertop, and watched it slide, stopping in between the cement filling. Not even bothering to move, she stood by the countertop in her kitchen, staring blankly at the key. Eventually, her eyes never left the keys, and they seemed to pull her into a hypnotic trance. Meanwhile, Layla's body wanted to sleep on the bed that was just through the small door, but that thought was tossed. After what happened at Peter's place, sleep was out of question.

Again.

What happened, she hadn't meant. Foolishly, Layla had fallen asleep, knowing she shouldn't have, but the bed was so soft, and she was drained after the break in at the Pentagon. Her body had gone days without sleep, and once her head hit the pillow, her mind began switching off. It had closed up shop, and shut the windows. She hoped tossing back and forth in bed would help keep her awake, but that only made it worse. Eventually, she had fallen asleep, and hoped that Peter would wake her, if he noticed. She had depended on him to do that deed, but instead he let her fall asleep.

Look where that got her.

No sleep, and an injured Peter because she had thrown him against the wall with her powers. Honestly, she hadn't meant for that to happen. She was dreaming of her parents again; trying to save them. Then the cold water began filling her lungs, and she couldn't reach them. Couldn't breathe. As always, she kept trying and trying to save them, but it didn't work. She screamed underwater, wasting away her last breath, while she blamed herself.

"Your fault! You did this! You killed them!" That icy, angry voice shouted in her head. It only made the guilt worse.

While she had been screaming, there was another voice shouting at her. A deep, familiar tone that sounded panicked. In the midst of her panic, she hadn't been able to pin point that it was Peter's voice, and when she awoke, she only saw a shadowed male figure looming over her. Instinctively, she had thrown the unknown figure at the wall in a protective manner. It was only when her mind was more awake, that she remembered where she was, and who she had thrown. Her stomach dropped, and she felt sick. Fear took over, and her heart was racing in her chest.

"Monster! Freak! Beast! Look at what you've done! Your fault!" The guilty voice of hers shouted, only bringing her down more.

In that moment, Layla knew she should never have stayed with Peter for the night. She should have just put her foot down, and rejected his offer. However, he wasn't going to let go, and Layla knew she wouldn't be able to get rid of him. Stupidly, she had considered using her mind control, and ordering him to leave her, or better yet forget her, but she didn't have the heart to do that. After they had broken into the Pentagon together?

No way.

"But what if something happens again?" She thought feeling scared.

Layla pushed that thought down. She wouldn't have to worry about that. She had left his house in the middle of the night, and he didn't knew where she lived or worked. All he knew was that she lived in Brooklyn, and there was no way in hell that silver haired kid was going to run all over Brooklyn in search of her.

It took a while to leave Peter's house because she had to wait for him to sleep again. Once, she heard his rhythmic breathing patterns, she took off. It still astonished Layla, that what she did to him didn't bother him. It bothered her, though. She was stupid. An idiot for thinking she and Peter could ever be friends. She couldn't even go twenty-four hours with her new friendship because her powers had gotten out of hand, and she corrupted it. Peter may have said otherwise, but to her, she felt like she corrupted it. In her scared, and frantic state, Layla had tried to tell him they couldn't be friends, but Peter never backed down. He didn't care, and she saw it in his eyes. His dark eyes never left hers, and they showed a sense of comfort and understanding. Something, she never thought she'd see because when she looked at herself, all she saw was destruction. Someone who would always bring or do damage to anyone she crossed paths with. Even if she didn't mean it. She was a monster, a freak, a beast of burden.