Aquamber ^^Currently being edited^^

Chapter Two

  Wake up!" My mother's voice was like honey. It oozed into my mind and echoed in my room.  Her voice stuck there in my head. Like honey. "We need to speak with you now."

  No thoughts whatsoever, my feet swung out of my comforter smoothly and onto the floor, back still attached to the bed. My bare feet felt like they had run over sharp rocks. You'd think the cold marble floor would ease the sharp pain. Slowly and carefully, I lifted my back off the bed, terrified on how my feet would react to the sudden objective to carry and walk 107 pounds with sand-burns stinging them the entire agonizing way.  Impatient foot steps stomped near the door, pausing only for a few seconds.

 "We need to speak with you, Anne!" The exact same sticky voice creeped into my brain. "Wake up!"

  My feet burned and stung with every small movement. Every time a ligament moved. Every time a muscle twitched. Once I passed the door to my room, I turned to the butler standing like his spine was a broomstick.

 "Can you please do a favor for me? A very, very quick one?" My feet burned from my weight.

  He rapidly nodded as I told him, sprinting down the hall within seconds.

 "Here it is ma'am!" The butler gave a small grin as he handed the bottle full of bright green gel to me.

 Sitting down, I pushed on the nozzle of the bottle, squishing out the green gel. It was cool and refreshing, even on areas that weren't burnt. I could not wait to put the aloe on my sore feet. It felt like the aloe was sucking out the pain in my feet. My only problem? Aloe was gel, and everything was marble. The ground was white. 

 I left green footsteps. I admit it. My nightgown sort of hid the fact that I had aloe on my feet and that they left laughable green footsteps. Leaving green trails I even snickered at, I  finally got to the table we ate at every morning, afternoon, and evening. My mother sat on a chair next to my father. Her back as staight as a broomstick. Just like the butler. Her orange hair was in a french braid that trailed off so it touched her lower back. Both my parents were still in their pajamas.

 

"Anne, you need to stop being late for dinner. We are fine with lunch, but not dinner."

 I stared at them with on eyebrow raised in confusion, a large part of the swedish pancakes on my plate made me unable to speak.  Swallowing the part of the pancake, I cut another piece. "It's just dinner, Mom. Why are you so worried?"

 She dropped her fork and my father looked away. Oh great. "There are sick people out there! People with mental issues that have guns have been spotted by people around our home. Especially that beach you visit!" I followed my dad's lead and looked the other way. "Look at me."

 I shook my head. "I'm not twelve anymore."

 "No but you are thirteen!" Her voice raised. That made me look at her. I wanted to hit her. So, so badly. I had never been fond of violence. Not until that day.

 I kept my voice as steady as I could as I pushed back my chair, shoving my plate towards the vase full of beautiful feathers and red roses. "I'm fourteen." With a voice sharper than knives, I simply walked away, following the green footsteps up the stairs that stopped a few feet from my room.

   ^###^

 I looked in the mirror after turning on the hot shower and collecting towels. My hazel eyes seemed to... glow, almost. They were beautifully bright, almost a dark orange color. My acne was clearing up too. Blemishes on my nose and forehead were nearing the point of vanishing. I didn't even really use facewash!