My Guardian Angels (Chap. 5)
**Chapter Five-Ring Of Fire**
I struggle against everything, I can't see, I can't smell, and I can't hear. I can't contact anything. I feel like I'm just a rock, waiting for someone to come pick me up and toss me somewhere. I guess I'm like Rapunzel, just waiting for some prince to come find me, and pluck me out of this high, high tower and take me away on his white horse. That would NEVER happen. Ever.
And I mean EVER.
I'm still struggling against everything. I've lost my breathing. I can't move at all. I try to scream. I can't. I'm focusing on finding anything to get me out of this. I focus on erasing all these bindings. I just try to control what's happening to me in any way at all.
I try to punch, and kick, but all that's happening is I'm running out of air. I feel like I've lost myself. Like there is no hope for me at all. It's over. It's like me and all these bindings have become one and their stealing everything I need to survive. I give up and just think about ropes loosening off me. Just think about being free, about these tendrils slipping from their hold. I focus all my energy on that, but I try to stay relaxed. It feels like me and these bindings have become one, the only indication of them NOT being a part of me is that they feel sticky, like those gross, gooey toys you get out of those quarter machines at the grocery stores. I focus on that icky feeling around my limbs. After a minute of focusing on these invisible, sticky ropes that are entwined around me, I find myself moving. I barely even think, I just roll over-
"Ooof!" I hear myself complain after falling on the floor. "Smooth!" I hiss to myself. I'm in new clothes. A baggy dress. I sigh, knowing this is all I'm gonna have for. . .who knows how long!? Ugh. Oh well. I pick myself up and realized, ok, all the other doors were closed. So I have a chance to escape. I look at the old grandfather clock in the corner. I lick my lips and sigh.
It's about eight in the morning. I'm SO hungry. I pad my way across the room, my bare feet cold on the wooden floor, making slap noises with every. Single. Step. Just maximizing my chance of being found. I've barely even registered what's happening to me. Am I safe? Am I in complete danger? Am I injured, or have I been fixed? Is someone on their way here to kill me right now? All these questions flooding on top of the usual ones. My life has just exploded, though it was always on fire. Always. So I'm used to abnormality, I'm even used to a depressing life full of colorful sweaters, and uncomfortable mini skirts, trying to fit in - I've even tried that.But I've always ended up in black tank tops, dark skinny jeans (of whatever dark color) and these scraped up converse that have duct tape wrapped around them in different places.
But this, this was something new-this involved me possibly being on death row. This was worse than the time the kids locked me away in a tiny closet and I accidentally burned a whole bunch of them-third degree-trying to burn down the door using one of the four spells I knew. They deserved it, yeah, but some of them are in the BURN CENTER!!!!!!! So I was totally worried. I was scared about losing control of my powers if I actually had to use them. I swallowed hard, this deciding my fate, these next few moments, stuck in this disgusting dress, without my taped up, black-well now dark gray, beaten up converse. A life without living is what might be my next step. So this is wear it starts or ends.
I slowly unlock the door to the room I've been trapped in for the last sixteen hours, turn the knob, and pull the door open, closing it behind me, and locking it with my powers. I slowly tip-toe down the hallway, pressing myself against the wall and holding my breath since I'd opened the door. When I get to the stairs, I dig me teeth deep into my bottom lip, gripping the railing as I slip silently down the stairs. I stop in the kitchen, putting nine apple tarts into my ugly, baggy, urine yellow dress. Then I grabbed one to eat, leaving five.
I unlock the main door, pushing gently, swallowing hard. Then I realize, ok, pull. So I pull. I open it just a crack, and slip through it, my narrow body making it through easily, but my saggy dress catches on the knob.
"Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek."
I gasp, sticking my hand around the door and yanking the dress-that's not mine-off the handle. I know that someone's woken up. And that means I have less time than I thought. I look up at the roof, closing the door so soundly, it hardly feels closed. As soon as I touch it and feel it lock beneath my fingers, I take off running.
Yes, I have to run. I don't have some broomstick to fly away on. I'm not a witch, or whatever crap you think I am. I'm a Cattiveria. All I know about that is that I have powers, my enemies are called the Buanoas, I can cast spells, and I'm on the good side. Not much to go off, but I'm working with it. I'm trying to figure out who killed my parents. But now, everyone thinks I'm some crazy psycho killer! Which I am not! Here's some info on me, who I really am:
My powers grow. I have telekinesis, I can project my sight and soul, and I can read minds. Not much, I know, but projection comes in handy. I've almost mastered it. It's draining, so I try not to use it too much, but I have to if I want to move on to my next power-which I SO want to. My parents could teleport their souls, like me-that's how I saw them all. They used they're last remnants of soul to see me, sending me the last image of my family I would ever see. . . .
I only remember vague things about my family. I remember my mother's straight, long, ivory hair, her snow-white skin, her full red lips, her big green, almond-shaped eyes, her beauty putting every super model to shame. My father's curly, cold white hair, his deep ivory skin, so dark it almost matches my mother's hair, his huge, round, dark chocolate eyes, with muscle that every man wishes they could achieve. Both of them long, and lean, and graceful. Every ballerina at my mother's ballet studio wished for her beauty and grace, every man at my father's gym wished to build on all the muscle he was practically born with. I'd gotten some of their beauty. My siblings had been so beautiful, with blonde hair, which my mother's mother had, tan skin taken from my father's father, all of them tall, and graceful, and having my mother's eye shape, and my father's mother's blue eyes, or his brown.
What I had taken was the opposite. My mother's pale Irish skin, but with a tint of my father's dark, Black skin and Native American, red-brown tone to it, making it a light red caramel color. Her long black hair, but with my father's thick curls. My father's gigantic round eyes, but with my mother's green eyes, that always changed colors to match her mood, but when normal, settled into a dark jungle green, making our skin even paler. My hair almost erasing ALL my color. Sometimes I wish I was tanner like my siblings were. Sometimes I wish I had their straight blonde hair, but then I wouldn't be me. And I would probably be dead.
"WE'RE TRYING TO HELP YOU!!!!!!!!!!!" I heard a girl that sounded around my age yell. More people? I thought to myself. Someone grabbed my shoulder and I swung around. It was an old lady. The one who made the apple tarts. Allen Rae's wife. She was like me. I heard that repeating in my head. She was good. I felt hypnotized--
She was hypnotizing me! "Off!" I yelled, not wanting to hurt her, but flick her off and run into the huge trail between their gardens and crops and animals and barns-Oh my, god. I was on a freaking farm. I'd loved on a farm berfore. And a ranch. But I'd also lived in suburbs, and cities. I'd even lived in Paris France before. My new family and I had been in Le Petit when they were murdered. I was seven.
I held my hands up in front of me as they ran towards. "Please work!" I said harshly through clenched teeth as I began to concentrate. See, spells were said in Italian, I'd learned Italian in multiple house holds, but I wouldn't say that I was fluent. But this spell, it had worked for me in the past, running from my families murderers. Yeah, well, let's hope I have enough energy for this.
"Portare il calore, tirarlo gił, ma poi andare in giro a portare il fuoco!!!!!!!" I yelled. Little flicks of light lit around me in a circle. But the freaking wind almost blew out my flames. I cleared my throat as the granny recovered from using hypnosis, which can make you very tired. She was coming at me so I cleared my throat again and screamed it this time "POTARE IL CALORE, TIRALO GIU, MA POI ANDARE IN GIRO PARTARE IL FUOCO!!!!!!!" This basically translates into "Bring the heat, tear it down, but then go around to bring fire!!!!!!!" Which is really weird, but it works. The random words flew out of my mouth in English while I was in Le Petit, France, so I said them in Mandarin, then in Irish, then in French, and then in Italian, and a huge ring of fire rose around me until I heard sirens and passed out of exhaustion. So I was scared of the outcome. This was just quick thinking. I cleared my throat again"I said: POTARE IL CALORE, TIRALO GIU, MA POI ANDARE IN GIRO PARTARE IL FUOCO!!!!!!!" Huge flames burst out around. I smiled and sat down in my circle of flames. I bit into my apple tart to eat now.
I was tired, I was hungry, and I was thirsty. I was getting close to full after eating my tart. I ate half of another one. I curled into a ball, it was hot out here, since it was summer, and this tent I was wearing-I mean dress, was thick, and huge. I had on my underwear and bra, soI slipped off the dress. I ran a hand through my hair. Agh. I licked my lips, feeling irritated and a little more than sick.
This blonde chick, with angry electric blue eyes to math Joeseph's stepped through my fire. My upper lipped curled up, she was engulfed in flames-but they were blue to match her eyes that were glowing so I could see them, but mine were purple and green-like the evil dragon/fairie/thing off Sleeping Beauty-Disney addition. "What the hell do you think you're doing, bitch? We do all this shit for you, and all you can do is put up all these flames? It would have protected you, but my first power was Torcia Umana, a human torch. I see you have to flee to spells." She smirked down at me. I released the fire, forgetting in that moment I was almost naked.
I flicked my wrist at her. She flew into-oh, through, her barn. They had three though, so hopefully, "no chickens were harmed in the actions of my stupidity". Heehee. Anyway, I then yelled "NOT NECESSARILY!!!!!" I heard her grunt in return. Everyone stopped and stared at me. I gasped and pulled the dress over me. Then I waved "I believe not everyone has met me - I'm Madeline, Madeline Potere." I smiled, taking a deep breath so big, it brings my shoulders up, then down. I see the blonde wiggling her way out of the barn.
"That's Abelia, my sister." Joseph said. I nod toward her with her smirk that she wore just seconds ago. She snorted, about a block away from us now. "You should put the dress back on." He mumbled, looking away and blushing as I slipped the dress on.
Here's where my story really begins. . . . .
And I mean EVER.
I'm still struggling against everything. I've lost my breathing. I can't move at all. I try to scream. I can't. I'm focusing on finding anything to get me out of this. I focus on erasing all these bindings. I just try to control what's happening to me in any way at all.
I try to punch, and kick, but all that's happening is I'm running out of air. I feel like I've lost myself. Like there is no hope for me at all. It's over. It's like me and all these bindings have become one and their stealing everything I need to survive. I give up and just think about ropes loosening off me. Just think about being free, about these tendrils slipping from their hold. I focus all my energy on that, but I try to stay relaxed. It feels like me and these bindings have become one, the only indication of them NOT being a part of me is that they feel sticky, like those gross, gooey toys you get out of those quarter machines at the grocery stores. I focus on that icky feeling around my limbs. After a minute of focusing on these invisible, sticky ropes that are entwined around me, I find myself moving. I barely even think, I just roll over-
"Ooof!" I hear myself complain after falling on the floor. "Smooth!" I hiss to myself. I'm in new clothes. A baggy dress. I sigh, knowing this is all I'm gonna have for. . .who knows how long!? Ugh. Oh well. I pick myself up and realized, ok, all the other doors were closed. So I have a chance to escape. I look at the old grandfather clock in the corner. I lick my lips and sigh.
It's about eight in the morning. I'm SO hungry. I pad my way across the room, my bare feet cold on the wooden floor, making slap noises with every. Single. Step. Just maximizing my chance of being found. I've barely even registered what's happening to me. Am I safe? Am I in complete danger? Am I injured, or have I been fixed? Is someone on their way here to kill me right now? All these questions flooding on top of the usual ones. My life has just exploded, though it was always on fire. Always. So I'm used to abnormality, I'm even used to a depressing life full of colorful sweaters, and uncomfortable mini skirts, trying to fit in - I've even tried that.But I've always ended up in black tank tops, dark skinny jeans (of whatever dark color) and these scraped up converse that have duct tape wrapped around them in different places.
But this, this was something new-this involved me possibly being on death row. This was worse than the time the kids locked me away in a tiny closet and I accidentally burned a whole bunch of them-third degree-trying to burn down the door using one of the four spells I knew. They deserved it, yeah, but some of them are in the BURN CENTER!!!!!!! So I was totally worried. I was scared about losing control of my powers if I actually had to use them. I swallowed hard, this deciding my fate, these next few moments, stuck in this disgusting dress, without my taped up, black-well now dark gray, beaten up converse. A life without living is what might be my next step. So this is wear it starts or ends.
I slowly unlock the door to the room I've been trapped in for the last sixteen hours, turn the knob, and pull the door open, closing it behind me, and locking it with my powers. I slowly tip-toe down the hallway, pressing myself against the wall and holding my breath since I'd opened the door. When I get to the stairs, I dig me teeth deep into my bottom lip, gripping the railing as I slip silently down the stairs. I stop in the kitchen, putting nine apple tarts into my ugly, baggy, urine yellow dress. Then I grabbed one to eat, leaving five.
I unlock the main door, pushing gently, swallowing hard. Then I realize, ok, pull. So I pull. I open it just a crack, and slip through it, my narrow body making it through easily, but my saggy dress catches on the knob.
"Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek."
I gasp, sticking my hand around the door and yanking the dress-that's not mine-off the handle. I know that someone's woken up. And that means I have less time than I thought. I look up at the roof, closing the door so soundly, it hardly feels closed. As soon as I touch it and feel it lock beneath my fingers, I take off running.
Yes, I have to run. I don't have some broomstick to fly away on. I'm not a witch, or whatever crap you think I am. I'm a Cattiveria. All I know about that is that I have powers, my enemies are called the Buanoas, I can cast spells, and I'm on the good side. Not much to go off, but I'm working with it. I'm trying to figure out who killed my parents. But now, everyone thinks I'm some crazy psycho killer! Which I am not! Here's some info on me, who I really am:
My powers grow. I have telekinesis, I can project my sight and soul, and I can read minds. Not much, I know, but projection comes in handy. I've almost mastered it. It's draining, so I try not to use it too much, but I have to if I want to move on to my next power-which I SO want to. My parents could teleport their souls, like me-that's how I saw them all. They used they're last remnants of soul to see me, sending me the last image of my family I would ever see. . . .
I only remember vague things about my family. I remember my mother's straight, long, ivory hair, her snow-white skin, her full red lips, her big green, almond-shaped eyes, her beauty putting every super model to shame. My father's curly, cold white hair, his deep ivory skin, so dark it almost matches my mother's hair, his huge, round, dark chocolate eyes, with muscle that every man wishes they could achieve. Both of them long, and lean, and graceful. Every ballerina at my mother's ballet studio wished for her beauty and grace, every man at my father's gym wished to build on all the muscle he was practically born with. I'd gotten some of their beauty. My siblings had been so beautiful, with blonde hair, which my mother's mother had, tan skin taken from my father's father, all of them tall, and graceful, and having my mother's eye shape, and my father's mother's blue eyes, or his brown.
What I had taken was the opposite. My mother's pale Irish skin, but with a tint of my father's dark, Black skin and Native American, red-brown tone to it, making it a light red caramel color. Her long black hair, but with my father's thick curls. My father's gigantic round eyes, but with my mother's green eyes, that always changed colors to match her mood, but when normal, settled into a dark jungle green, making our skin even paler. My hair almost erasing ALL my color. Sometimes I wish I was tanner like my siblings were. Sometimes I wish I had their straight blonde hair, but then I wouldn't be me. And I would probably be dead.
"WE'RE TRYING TO HELP YOU!!!!!!!!!!!" I heard a girl that sounded around my age yell. More people? I thought to myself. Someone grabbed my shoulder and I swung around. It was an old lady. The one who made the apple tarts. Allen Rae's wife. She was like me. I heard that repeating in my head. She was good. I felt hypnotized--
She was hypnotizing me! "Off!" I yelled, not wanting to hurt her, but flick her off and run into the huge trail between their gardens and crops and animals and barns-Oh my, god. I was on a freaking farm. I'd loved on a farm berfore. And a ranch. But I'd also lived in suburbs, and cities. I'd even lived in Paris France before. My new family and I had been in Le Petit when they were murdered. I was seven.
I held my hands up in front of me as they ran towards. "Please work!" I said harshly through clenched teeth as I began to concentrate. See, spells were said in Italian, I'd learned Italian in multiple house holds, but I wouldn't say that I was fluent. But this spell, it had worked for me in the past, running from my families murderers. Yeah, well, let's hope I have enough energy for this.
"Portare il calore, tirarlo gił, ma poi andare in giro a portare il fuoco!!!!!!!" I yelled. Little flicks of light lit around me in a circle. But the freaking wind almost blew out my flames. I cleared my throat as the granny recovered from using hypnosis, which can make you very tired. She was coming at me so I cleared my throat again and screamed it this time "POTARE IL CALORE, TIRALO GIU, MA POI ANDARE IN GIRO PARTARE IL FUOCO!!!!!!!" This basically translates into "Bring the heat, tear it down, but then go around to bring fire!!!!!!!" Which is really weird, but it works. The random words flew out of my mouth in English while I was in Le Petit, France, so I said them in Mandarin, then in Irish, then in French, and then in Italian, and a huge ring of fire rose around me until I heard sirens and passed out of exhaustion. So I was scared of the outcome. This was just quick thinking. I cleared my throat again"I said: POTARE IL CALORE, TIRALO GIU, MA POI ANDARE IN GIRO PARTARE IL FUOCO!!!!!!!" Huge flames burst out around. I smiled and sat down in my circle of flames. I bit into my apple tart to eat now.
I was tired, I was hungry, and I was thirsty. I was getting close to full after eating my tart. I ate half of another one. I curled into a ball, it was hot out here, since it was summer, and this tent I was wearing-I mean dress, was thick, and huge. I had on my underwear and bra, soI slipped off the dress. I ran a hand through my hair. Agh. I licked my lips, feeling irritated and a little more than sick.
This blonde chick, with angry electric blue eyes to math Joeseph's stepped through my fire. My upper lipped curled up, she was engulfed in flames-but they were blue to match her eyes that were glowing so I could see them, but mine were purple and green-like the evil dragon/fairie/thing off Sleeping Beauty-Disney addition. "What the hell do you think you're doing, bitch? We do all this shit for you, and all you can do is put up all these flames? It would have protected you, but my first power was Torcia Umana, a human torch. I see you have to flee to spells." She smirked down at me. I released the fire, forgetting in that moment I was almost naked.
I flicked my wrist at her. She flew into-oh, through, her barn. They had three though, so hopefully, "no chickens were harmed in the actions of my stupidity". Heehee. Anyway, I then yelled "NOT NECESSARILY!!!!!" I heard her grunt in return. Everyone stopped and stared at me. I gasped and pulled the dress over me. Then I waved "I believe not everyone has met me - I'm Madeline, Madeline Potere." I smiled, taking a deep breath so big, it brings my shoulders up, then down. I see the blonde wiggling her way out of the barn.
"That's Abelia, my sister." Joseph said. I nod toward her with her smirk that she wore just seconds ago. She snorted, about a block away from us now. "You should put the dress back on." He mumbled, looking away and blushing as I slipped the dress on.
Here's where my story really begins. . . . .
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