Ilara Bonaparte
I am told that the very first year of my life, I never laughed. Not one chuckle or smile could be gotten from me, and that was simply how it was. I have thus made up for that indescretion, and if I do not laugh for ten minutes straight I am either sleeping or angry. It is only when I am angry that I don’t laugh, but I do laugh a lot, and at most everything.
For example, I laughed when I was told I had the Amaunet, the hidden power. I laughed as I was told this by a sage, whispering it to me as he passed me on New Year’s Day. He was blind; his stick clacked on the cement as I passed with a intense clatter. I laughed, passing by him and heading toward a white Sunfire, I could barely pronounce Amaunet, how could I possess such a thing? I chuckled again, shaking my head as I sought my keys inside my purse. What could that “Amaunet” be, anyway? As I placed one foot inside the car, ducking my head to get in, I wondered if the man was an escapee of the Long Term Care unit at the local hospital. This thought, also, made me chuckle.
As I drove home, I didn’t even think about the old man. I had rationalized, made him simply just another crazy stalking urban civilization. I cared more about my sister’s birthday than I did anything else, much less a hidden power.
If there was power in the family, it was in her. Kiki was the pretty one, with all the right answers at all the right times. It was she that got a computer while I got a kitten. Now, I wanted a kitten, and she wanted the computer; but apparently that was not the point. She was going to a University; I was working as a secretary to a stingy employer. She wanted larger things in life than I, and always would. We were twins, but that bond isn’t what they advertise in TV shows and movies. I hated her as she hated me, and it was all for one singular reason, dating back to when we were eight.
When we were that age, we were like it seems in the movies: best friends. But we never agreed on one thing: Brian Michaels.
I hated the little bastard, even then. I think I called him a “petit batard” on the playground one day, and only Kiki and I understood that phrase- as our mother walked out the door one lonely night, she yelled it as she slammed the door. Kiki understood the intensity of this phrase, the deep meaning. She slapped me, and for an eight year old, that was shocking enough. But even more shocking was that I was instantly on my feet, and in moments she was unconscious not ten feet from the monkey bars.
The hate began that day, and only grew.
Driving home, I contemplated on my gift to her- a gift card to a department store. I’d paid, I’d walked back to my car, but it still just wasn’t the same as buying something meaningful. However, she would never get anything meaningful. Not from me. Excuse me, I suppose I’m still bitter that she gave me a lump of coal for Christmas.
Yes, a lump of coal. And no, she isn’t white bearded, chunky, or fancies herself cute in red; she wrapped it inside a box for a Chinese hanging lamp (one of her Christmas presents from last year and something I had wanted with ferver). So naturally, I was excited, thrilled she thought enough to get me something I wanted. Ten minutes later, after the unwrapping was done and everyone else was eating apple pie, I opened it to discover a fist-sized lump of coal.
I stormed into the dining room, eyes flashing. “What the hell is this?” I demanded, gazing into the mirror of myself.
She laughed. Like me, she has a tendency to be awful joyous. “I thought you could stick it in your ass, and by New Year’s it’d be a diamond. I thought you’d enjoy that.”
Her boyfriend chuckled behind his hand, and my father roared with pathetic giggles- too much eggnog, already. I clenched my left fist, narrowing my eyes. “I. Hate. You. Realize this. Revel in this. And, while you’re at it, take this as a GIFT!” I screamed, throwing the lump of coal straight for her head.
And just like the incident with Brian Michaels, she was out cold. Except this time, she was unconscious for about an hour. A trip to the ER revealed she had a concussion, but I was gone for most of that. By the time my father had began to dial emergency, I was putting my meager presents in my car. The kitty corral I kept in the passenger seat. The poor black kitten with white stripes on his forehead purred beside me during the ten minute drive back to my pathetic apartment.
“Welcome to the family of crazies, kitten. I only wish you were an attack cat.”
I was back home, sitting on my bed. My bed is also my couch and dining room chair. My nightstand is my dinner table, and my kitchen consists of a crock pot and a microwave. With the Christmas money I had scrounged up, I had bought a griddle. Not one of the nice George Foreman ones, unfortunately. This greatly expanded my diet from soup, microwave dinners, and slim fast to a larger menu.
I laid back and Pandora curled up on one of my pillows next to my head. I sighed, reaching up to scratch behind her ears.
My Father, Kiki, and her boyfriend had called me the day after Christmas to invite me over for New Years Day. Since it was our birthday, I should have gone, simply to be civil. However, I hadn’t wanted to talk to Kiki ever again, so I decided to mail her gift card. Call it cowardice, I call it self preservation.
I turned onto my stomach to pet Pandora easier. The strange thing was that Kiki and I were twins, but she was prettier. It wasn’t make up or plastic surgery; it was simply her glow. She had this aura everyone flocked to. When she was sad, the world cried; when she was happy so was everyone else, whether they liked it or not. She would dress in skirts with frills, t-shirts with fun sayings, and fuzzy diva-like coats. I would be found in tough boots, black pants and a dress shirt. I practically had a uniform going, and pastels were not my favorite. I didn’t care; I thought I looked good. That’s all that matters, anyway.
There was a knock at my door, and I rolled onto my back. Ignore it, answer it; does it really matter? What does it matter who it is, anyway? I put a pillow over my head, making Pandora meow from the shift of weight. Nope, don’t care who it is.
“Landshark.”
I blinked. Landshark? Like the old Saturday Night Live skit? I removed the pillow from over my head, listening again. This time, quieter,
“Landshark.”
What the hell? I thought, and repeated out loud in a whisper, “What the hell?”
I stood, looking through the peephole. Who remembered that skit anymore, anyway?
Apparrently no one did; there was no one in the hall. I was hallucinating again. This time, from behind me: “Landshark.”
I whirled. Pandora looked a little puzzled, raising her head slightly, then setting it back down and closing her eyes. She was apparently not interested in the fact that her mistress was going insane. I searched every corner of the small room with my green eyes, and of course, no one there. I was hearing voices.
This time, right next to my ear, in a lovers’ whisper, “Landshaaaaaaark.”
I screamed, jumping backaward. This resulted in tipping over my nightstand, falling onto Pandora, and being clawed by a very angry kitten. I yelped and rolled to the foot of the bed, cradling my knees to my chin. I’m nuts. That’s it, I’ve gone completely nuts.
A booming laughter tingled my senses, and I shuddered. I’m really nuts. So insane it’s pathetic, because not only am I hearing echoes from a long-dead SNL skit, I’m hearing a man’s laughter. I rocked back and forth, my eyes clenched shut.
“I love doing that. Really, it never gets old.”
More voices. Oh, God, what did I do to deserve insanity? Really, my sister should get it- all of those things written in mens’ rooms are true, after all, and I’m still pure and virginal.
Right, so that’s not much of a reason to save my sanity…
Right, so, when she went to confession, I may have eavesdropped, but I wanted to know if she had bonked Billy Saunders. I certainly didn’t want to know she copulated with a horse, and I think that knowledge enough is plenty punishment, so please, please, make me not crazy!
No voices. I waited a moment, and opened my eyes.
And right there, was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, staring at me with a puzzled expression. It looked wrong on his face, like it wasn’t meant to be twisted in that way. His face was meant for some visage of thoughtfulness or divine arrogance, not an emotion so simple as puzzlement. His hair was layered- the strands in the front brushed his cheekbones and the longest part tickled his shoulders. Some strands, too, were different than the rest; for a moment I thought his hair was black, then brown, but no- there was honey blond in there as well. It was an assortment of colors, each changing with the light. His eyes, however, were a dark black. If there had been no personality there, they could have been soulless. However, his eyes were filled with knowledge, understanding, and an underlying amusement. It was as if he felt the world were humorous, but kept it in to keep from laughing.
As I gazed upon him, one thing was clear: he most certainly was a stranger. And like any woman, I did the sensible thing when confronted with an odd man, albeit a handsome one.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, backing away from him. Pandora finally realized his presence and let out a feral hiss, her tail arching and bushing out.
The Strange man flinched, but before my scream left my throat, a hand was over my mouth. The odd thing was that I hadn’t seen him move, but even stranger was that he stood behind me, locking my arms behind my back with one hand and silencing me with the other.
“I hadn’t thought you’d be this terrified. Look at you, all shivering like a human. What is with you? And where’s your Amon? This is your calling time, and you’re not even dressed formally, and for Isis’ sake, look at this dump! With your talents, you should be making millions. Not that I’m complaining- the rich never want to leave their mansions for the unknown. But really.” He sniffed my neck, and a thousand images ran through my head, all ending with me being raped. He paused a moment, and sniffed again. The images followed, and I shivered harder. He had an obsession with smell, and I did not want to know what kind of sex fantasies that fetish entailed.
“What the-“ He whirled me around, looking me in the eye. “You’re Jihara Westerson, right? Daughter of Marshall and Danae?”
Shaking heavily, I nodded slightly, eyes wide.
Mystery man looked puzzled again. “You have the Amaunet, but it’s not awake. There’s no spark there.”
“Maybe you go th-the wrong si-sibling?” I stuttered.
Mystery man let me go, and I crab walked to the plastic bag with my griddle inside. I gripped the box, ready to ram it onto his handsome head. “You have a sibling?” He asked, oblivious to his danger. Apparrently where he came from there were no griddles. He was about to understand their danger.
“Kiki. Twin sister.” I readied myself. If he rushed me, I could smash the box into him and ruin those pretty cheekbones.
“Twin! Right! Sorry to bother you!” And he disappeared.
I don’t mean, he walked away quickly, either. I mean, one second he was there, dazzling every sense with his brilliance, and then he was gone. Gone, like he’d been beamed up by the mothership.
I lightly set down the griddle. The poor appliance would have been injured anyway. I was glad I didn’t have to use it as a weapon.
An hour later I mailed the gift card, and retreated back into the studio apartment. She’d get it sometime next week, but who really cared? She wouldn’t send me anything, and I was twenty today too.
Happy Birthday to me.
I hummed the birthday song as Pandora looked at me with sleepy cat eyes from my pillow. I plopped down next to her, turning on the TV. It was beginning to get dark outside, and there was not much I could do in lieu of fun. I had no friends to speak of, which didn’t bother me. However, it got lonely without anyone to laugh with. Or talk with, or whine to. Right, so it did bother me, but what the hell, can’t change your life.
I turned the channels and found a suitable comedy. One of those nameless, classless ones, with little to no plot. No romance, thank you very much- I could not deal with romance with how crappy everything else was.
Yes, I was having a pity party. It wasn’t very lively or in-depth, just one of those times where you wish your life was better. When you look around and all you see is your mistakes, mocking you. I made myself some popcorn- my last bag- and added a lot of extra butter. Extra butter would make me happy. Extra butter was comfort food.
I spent an hour of mindlessness in front of the TV, which was rather enjoyable. However, during a commercial dictating the importance of having one’s gonorrhea treated, I heard a clamor out in the hall.
For a moment, I was still, hitting the mute button. The cute dark- haired man on TV spoke, but there were no more words about sexually transmitted diseases. Another thump out in the hall, and I grabbed the griddle- this time, without the box. There were sounds of a scuffle, and a girlish yelp outside my door.
My first thought was that I really didn’t want a rape in front of my door. The second was that the yelp sounded familiar. I looked out the peephole, and there he was in all his perfection, grinning widely at me. Mystery man. Even stranger was that he had one hand twisted in a blond woman’s hair, and another hand clapped over her mouth. She also looked at me, but with eyes full of hate.
Ah, my beloved sister.
I surveyed her a moment, pausing to enjoy her discomfort. Blonde hair was tangled around mystery man’s fingers and pulled close to his shoulder. Her green eyes were twins of my own, the perfect sloped nose and full lips. Her skin was tanned; I never bothered with such things. Her hair, too, was blonde while mine was a silky light brown. She insisted upon being different from me, like she detested even a reflection that looked like me. We almost looked like we weren’t sisters- her hair, her skin, and even her weight. She’d put on some pounds at college, and I was still as thin as I ever was. Mostly because I never had any money to buy food, so I was practically starving to death half the time, but she never saw it that way. It was an endless competition with her.
“Well, ya gonna let us in? This doesn’t look so good.” Mystery man said with an apologetic smile. Right, he was apologizing for kidnapping my sister.
I opened the door, suddenly quite ready to be friendly with the stranger. I had the heavy griddle if I needed to knock him out so I was moderately safe. And, after all; I really wanted to get to know the man that would harm my wonderful, talented sister and still be nicer to me. I was intrigued. “No need to apologize,” I said with a large grin. “Hurt her all you like.”
Kiki started to kick like a madwoman, but Mystery Man kept her in line. She screamed my name couple with a few swear words under his hand, but they were all muffled. He started to loosen his grip on her. “Hey, keep her contained. She’ll go ballistic and I don’t have the money to replace anything she destroys.”
Kiki narrowed her eyes, and Mystery Man regained his hold. “Whatever you say.”
I enjoyed the feel of Kiki being powerless a moment longer before I looked Mystery Man in the eye. “I can’t say I don’t enjoy watching her suffer, but why is she here?”
“Well, we’re in a delicate situation. It seems that you were never really meant to be twins, and we are all embarrassed about that.” Strange, his use of the pronoun, “we”, but I let it go. “However, I can remedy that. One of you can have all the power, and the other gets the life that…well…that you are living, Jihara.”
I blinked. I’d hope he’d side with me, but it seems he was going to give Kiki even more of what she wanted desperately: power. Suddenly I was very grumpy. “Well, do it, then. Get it over with so I can get on with my movie.” I glared at Kiki with a newfound hatred. This guy was nuts, but even the crazies chose my sister over me. Even if it was an imagined power, she got it anyway. It was all because she was confident, manipulating, and downright cruel. She gets it all, I get nothing. Way of life.
Mystery man was shaking his head. “Dear Jihara. You have so little faith in others. We have decided that Kiki shall be the one to have her power removed. After all, you have the full Amaunet- she simply has the power to use it. I’m surprised she even got this far without telling you something that would help you use your powers. Even if it slipped out, do you remember anything that eluded to your power?”
I blinked again. Crazy man was talking nonsense. Kiki, talk to me? What a foreign concept. But… “Hold on.” I told him.
I went to my dresser, pulling out the lump of coal she had given me for Christmas. I handed it to him. “She said if I stuck this up my ass, I’d make a diamond of it by New Years Day. I thought she was just being rude, but…”
Mystery Man/ Crazy Guy looked hopeful, regardless of what I had just said. I new light shone in his eyes: like I was the last hope on the planet. That look made me feel amazing, mostly because I’d never been on the receiving end of it before.
I don’t know what I did, really. I just figured I might as well humor the crazy guy because he seemed to want me to, and I didn’t begrudge the company however strange it was. I just thought to myself, why not make a diamond? Why not just…give it a go?
So I did. I took the coal in my right hand and used my left to punch it. For a moment, there was pain. The pain, however, was followed closely by soft blue light. I gasped as I dropped the coal, staring at my right hand. A design was forming on my palm, reforming the lines as it willed. It didn’t burn, or even hurt at all. I was just so surprised that the lines of my palm were realigning themselves. First there was a circle, and a star in the center. It was a four point star, like the one over Bethlehem in the cheesy Christmas movies. A circle with a star in it: that didn’t seem too much like the occult. But as I watched, the design shifted again, the outside circle breaking, disappearing, leaving only the four-point star. While it started out as a formation of lines from my natural skin, it slowly filled with a glowing pulse of blue. After a moment the pulse dimmed and I had a very new looking star tattoo in the middle of my palm.
I looked at the two others in the room. Mystery man was grinning like a maniac. He seemed like a kid who had just discovered Disneyland, toys, and cartoons in the same moment. His eyes danced and I could see a bit of water threatening to burst out. He was emotional because of a tattoo. Well, at least I was sure he was nuts; it wasn’t questionable now.
My sister, however, was gaping at the ground. She was no longer restrained- the man had let her go in awe of my spiffy tattoo. Her mouth was wide as she gazed at my feet. I followed her gaze and I, too, gaped in awe.
On my pathetic, rotted wooden floor lay a diamond the size of my fist. “Whoa.” I reached down and held it closer to my face. A real diamond. A really big diamond. In my room, in my hand, in my cheap apartment. A miracle.
“See what I mean? With the knowledge she’s hidden from you, you could have made millions. It doesn’t matter now, of course; you have to return with me and you won’t need material things.” He tossed his head and looked at the diamond without emotion.
“What, are you bringing me into the priesthood? No way. I’m staying here and selling this off. I deserve a vacation in Aruba for all the crap I’ve put up with.” I paused and looked at Kiki. She was still dazed, but that wouldn’t last long. She always gathered her wits quickly. “I want to know why she knew. How she knew.” I said, pointing to my sister and speaking to the man.
He wrapped his hand around her mouth again as he explained. “You are the Amaunet. With every Amaunet, an Amon is born to teach her, with the inborn knowledge that the Amon is the servant and the Amaunet is the master.” My sister struggled at this, her wits regained. Her eyes still lingered on the diamond, but they met mine in aversion and abhorrence. He continued as if her struggles were nothing but an annoying itch. “She’s known since she was about eight that you were the superior one in skill. After a bit of digging, I found that she’s kept you down through her arrogance. You believe she is better than you, so it is true. That’s how your mind works. You are the Amaunet- your will makes it real. You believe it, so it’s what happened.”
My eyes narrowed at Kiki. “You knew.”
Mystery Man kept her mouth covered. “I don’t want her to scream, so I don’t really want to remove my hand. However, we need to transfer what she knows to you, and soon. I can’t stay past midnight today and you have to come with me with or without the knowledge. It’s a pain, though, to go to the haven without knowledge and learn from scratch. As others around you flourish, you struggle. It’s important you know all you need before you leave.”
I looked at my watch: ten o’clock. “You have two hours. It isn’t enough to learn all I need to know, is it?” I looked at him, puzzled. Now that I knew he wasn’t crazy I realized that he was incredibly handsome. Well, I had realized it before, but now I reveled in it. I felt lost in his black eyes and I wanted to stay lost.
He broke his spell over me with, “I know a man. A shaman. I think he did it before, between a dying Amon and Amaunet. I’m not sure. I can find him, but I’ll be faster without her.” He tilted his head toward Kiki.
I nodded. “She’ll run, though. Tie her to that chair.” I nodded to my computer chair, sitting in front of a card table next to the door. He roughly tossed her there and he produced ropes out of nowhere. I came up behind him. They weren’t simply ropes but silk sashes that were used to tie up lovers during sex. I raised my eyebrows and muffled a chuckle with my hand. “I guess material things come in handy sometimes.”
He glanced at me with a slightly confused frown. “Of course. In this realm it becomes necessary to restrain people. I would not want her to be in pain from rough rope, so this seemed the obvious answer.”
“Uh huh. Before you find that guy, do you want to tell me where you’re taking me at midnight?”
“Nope.” With that, he was gone. I frowned deeply and sighed, slightly annoyed. He had disappeared as if he had never existed. Which left only my sister and I, and we had much to discuss.
“So.” I started off, smiling pleasantly. “You’re a bitch.”
She remained silent, looking at me with dark eyes. There was silk in her mouth as a gag but she also withheld any whimpers of dissent or affirmation. She was giving me the silent treatment. I removed the gag, glaring at her. “How could you deprive me of who I am? How could you do such a thing?”
“You deprived yourself.” She finally spat, enunciating every word to perfection. “You’re the idiot that believed you were beneath me. You believed you’d fail the ACT, so you did. You believed you’d never get accepted to college, so you weren’t. You believed you were ugly, so everyone thought you were. That’s changed though, already. I can see how that idiot looks at you. It’s how I looked at that diamond. He wants you, and he’ll have you. He’s an Amaunet, too.”
I stepped back in surprise. Mystery Man had my same power. “You made me feel like I was beneath everyone. You never uttered a kind word since we were kids. The last compliment you paid me was on my scrunchie, and that was when I was eight! The worst part is that I remember that it was the last compliment you paid me!” I put the silk gag in her mouth again. “I will hear no more from you. Your tyranny ends now. When he comes back, I will have the knowledge I need for this power, and you will be nothing in this world.” I whirled and sat on my bed, my back to her. Pandora curled up in my lap with a soft purr. She was surprised when tears fell from my cheeks onto her striped forehead and she shook herself as if cold. She looked up and rubbed her head against my stomach with a meow. She looked up again, felt as though she could not make me feel better, and curled up and began to purr again.
I sat like that until he returned, crying softly in self-loathing. I had created my torment. All the years of pain and suffering had been only my fault.
2
Mystery man returned through the door this time, opening it without a problem, even though it remained locked and bolted. It was fifteen past eleven when he strolled in one arm supporting a vaguely familiar form.
“You!” I yelped, standing. “You’re the old crazy man!” I blushed at my rudeness but shook my head at him. “You’re the sage guy?”
The old man looked to the younger, both with serious eyes. The younger one looked to me. “You need to listen closely. Since you’re twins this will be much easier than if you were of no relation or simply siblings. Jihara, you need to sit facing Kiki, hands on your knees, looking her straight in the eye. There can be no emotion whatsoever, so clear your mind now while we prepare.” He helped the old man lean against the wall- most specifically against my microwave- and shut the door behind him. I sat on my bed, facing Kiki’s chair, looking into her eyes.
Remaining devoid of emotion was impossible for someone who has experienced a betrayal such as this. I tried, really, I did, but there was nothing to be done; the hatred remained. Her eyes were like a mirror of my own and as the two men prepared, we glared at each other furiously. We were about four feet apart and the men were to my right. I listened to them instead of trying to clear my mind.
“A teaspoon of honey, sprinkle of sage. No, more gingerroot, and easy on the strand, boy. Too much and Fate will be disrupted. Where did you get so much of Fate’s yarn, anyway?” He stretched his hand out, feeling a wisp of what looked like fuzzy gray yarn. It looked absolutely helpless but as Mystery Man mashed the contents in a bowl the yarn dissipated completely.
“Fate was training me to take her place. She’s had visions of her death. But I am unworthy of the job.” His deep voice was filled with sadness as he added the honey and a few drops water.
“Don’t blame yourself. It’s your power; you are unsuited for anything but what you were born for. Whoever will take her place will be born; she is probably arranging for it now.” The old man’s head was tilted, unseeing eyes focused on nothing. He seemed to be listening for something. “Whoever is destined for that job shall be born before her death; that is the way of things.”
“But sir, that’s just it. She says she will be killed soon, she has no time to cut the threads for her predecessor. Destiny insists he will protect her, but she’s relying more and more on the Aphopis.” Mystery man placed the bowl in the sage’s hand, and I turned back to face my sister. Her eyes were full of fear, and she eyed the dark liquid the old man held with disgust.
“Ah, that blasted serpent. Her dependency on it will be her downfall, that is obvious. But the murderer of Fate will meet their destiny; Destiny himself will assure it. Not to worry, boy, the killer will suffer dearly.” The Sage stood between my sister and I, left hand bearing the bowl. “You have summoned Kaira?”
“Yes sir. She will arrive in ten minutes. We haven’t much time.” Mystery man looked nervous. It was eleven minutes to midnight and knowing my watch it could be wrong. I tried to remain calm as the old man dipped his middle finger into the strange liquid. To my amazement he traced a four pointed star on Kiki’s forehead with complete accuracy. Was he truly blind? How had he been so deft with his right hand if he was? It made no sense. A blind man could not see; a blind man could not do what this old man was doing.
As he faced me, I finally felt afraid. What if this went horribly wrong- what if it was some sort of façade to test deadly biological fluid that killed instantly? Well, if my sister keeled over, I’d worry. The old man did the same to my forehead as he did to Kiki’s, and I was overcome with a sense of- oneness. The world was mine, I was the world’s. It was like enlightenment without the spirituality. There was no doubt, no hate-
No hate? That’s…wrong. I feel hate. I feel…so much hate.
The old man began to hum peacefully, but my mind raced. Hatred. I hate my sister. She’s evil incarnate. Why do I not feel it?
I stared at her, and felt her come to the same conclusion. Both of us were losing the calm spell and returning to ourselves. The feeling of oneness dissipated and we came in contact with our normal emotions instants before the old man reached to us. One hand went on Kiki’s forehead, and the other on mine. The reaction was instantaneous, and instead of the flood of quiet knowledge I expected I felt only pain.
My head was splitting in two. There were strong emotions being channeled and there was only hatred, fear, anger, and disgust. My sister had long lost any positive emotion toward me. Wave after wave of emotions hit me and I felt as if I was being slammed by an ocean surf against a bed of rocks. But with each wave came knowledge. I knew what I could do; what I couldn’t do.
I couldn’t make someone love me, or anyone else. I couldn’t will anyone to die; I couldn’t will myself or any others to be superhuman. I could not cause harm to someone at all and an outside-forced wish would not work.
Hundreds of images flooded me, most of them of our childhood. I saw back to the day Kiki hit me, saw the playground through her eyes. She had just realized I was the better of us. The knowledge had hit her as it was hitting me now. There had been less pain, but she knew. Then- eighth grade and the dreaded picture day. She whispered to her friends about me and I turned, a dark expression on my face as the camera flashed. And- Prom night. She passed my room in her beautiful gown while I sat on my bed reading a book. A glance passed between us and she mocked me as she stepped down the stairs to answer the doorbell.
I screamed and collapsed to the ground, begging for it to stop. I knew all I needed, I didn’t have to have a compendium of our life. But even as I felt the sage withdraw his hand and his power, the images came. Faster and faster, until they were simply blurs against the dark of my eyes. It was like a sped-up movie, where the whole movie is finished in one frame. Every moment of her life was drained into me, especially moments I didn’t care to see or repeat.
It was then that I finally collapsed.