Mali

Chapter Eight: Past

The room filled with the blaring sound of my alarm clock. Singing along to Wrecking Ball of all things. I did, however, punched it as I fell and face planted onto the floor.

It gave a slow groan before quitting and eventually dying.

I gave a slow groan of pain as well, but didn't crap out. I pushed myself up to a sitting position. My legs were sore, and hard to move.

That's when it hit me.

Everything that happened yesterday. At first, I thought it was all a dream when it was happening. But, now that my legs hurt, probably from all the running, I don't think it was a dream.

I got up and walked over to my closet. Picked out the first shirt and jeans I saw. Hurried and got them on.

I looked down at my hands, expecting them to catch on fire again. Hoping they would actually. To get the worries of it all out now.

I thought of the feelings I had when I was yelling at Ryder down by the stream. How I was angry, pissed off, and fearful. I closed my eyes and focused on the simple feelings.

Then a spark was ignited, I opened my eyes and the tips of my fingers were on fire. I didn't freak out nor did I wave my hands around like a fool.

I stood there and watched as the fire flowed back and forth. I could feel the heat against my skin and just watch. The whole sensation of the fire was not too hot like summer in Florida, but I could definitely feel that presence.

I snapped my fingers and the fire went out. The warmth vanished and I came back to reality.

That isn't real. Stuff like that shouldn't be happening, but for whatever reason it is.

I have to find Ryder.

He has this power and was probably the one who gave it to me. He has to know what I should do. I'm not going to go off and do some crazy shit, I need to figure out what to do now.

I opened my bedroom door and peered out. The hallway was slightly cleaner then last night. Mom was probably cleaning it up this morning.

I closed the door behind me and walked down the hall. Still missing the plates to cause minimal damage to the floor and my foot.

Mom was in the kitchen with her back turned. The smell of bacon and maple syrup drifting into the hall.

She knows my favorite is bacon and pancakes. She must want to talk.

Damn it.

I looked back to the door and my escape to freedom. To go and hopefully see Ryder, but my mom is more important.

I walked into the kitchen, "Hey Mom.", I said grabbed a few pieces of bacon before backing off.

"Good morning to you to.", she said in her normal shaken voice.

She's just scared of everything anymore. It breaks my heart to see her become this. It's all because of my fucking father. I'm not even proud to call him that.

"So, why did you come home late last night?", mom asked still focusing on the bacon.

"Oh I was at the...", I had to think of something, "Library! I was at the library.", I said proudly and an attempt to be convincing.

"But, Zara, you don't read.", she said now turning to face me.

The bruise under her eye was new. It was still turning, it probably happened last night. Before, when I would first see her getting abused I would try to stop my dad, but it only ended up with me getting the hand too. I just try to ignore it now. The only way for me not to be taken away from her. Without me, I can only imagine what he'll do to her.