Clara sobbed, trying to press herself into the corner
without touching the long, but luckily shallow, cut across her stomach. Her
dress was torn and soaked in blood. Her mind was panicked and scatter and she
was desperately trying to decide what to do. What was there to do when-
Her parents walked in. They both frozen and stared at her in
shock.
“Clara...” Her father said. “What -?” he hesitated. “What
happened?”
She stood up slowly, grimacing. “I think,” her voice shook. A
clear thought formed in her mind. Weakling.
She made her voice hard. “I think you know perfectly well.”
“Clara, honey, we have no idea. Please, tell us what
happened,” her mother responded, her voice thick with concern. Fake concern.
“STOP LYING!” Clara screamed, tears streaming down her face.
“I KNOW YOU SENT SOMEONE TO KILL ME! TO KILL YOUR DAUGHTER”
“Clara, that’s ridi-“
She cut her father off. “NO.
I CAN READ YOUR MIND. I KNOW. STOP LYING”
A fresh wave of pain washed over her and she slumped to the
ground.
“Just stop lying…” she whispered.
Her parents stood over her, glaring.
“Fine.” Her father finally replied. “We did send someone to
kill you. And I guess we’ll have to finish the job for ourselves now.”
“Why..?”
“You’re not our daughter,” her mother spat. “You’re some psycho
who mind controls people into doing anything for her. I don’t know what you are
or how you do it, but you are not our daughter.”
How do they know about
my powers? She instinctively looked into her mother’s mind and found it
completely different than it had been any other time. She saw all the same
memories, but in a different light. This time, instead of the love or emptiness
she normally found, there was hate and fear. Her parents had realized. They realized she pushed at their emotions
and had hid their true thoughts from her. She hadn’t harmed them in any way or even been in their minds all that much. And they tried to kill her. She felt
hatred and anger welling up inside of her and stood up. Even though she was
only eight and much shorter than her parents, they both took a step back.
She looked at them and shook her head. “You’ve made a horrible
choice.”
Her father pulled a knife out of his jacket and unsheathed
it. Her mother smirked. “No, I think it’s you
that made a horr-.” Her eyes widen and she gurgled as Clara’s father dove the
knife into her throat. Now it was Clara’s turn to smirk as she instructed her
father to stab himself next. He fell to the ground, blood pouring out of his
next and mingling with her mother’s. She laughed at them both, feeling so
powerful while they lay at her feet. Well.
Now what?
Clara looked around her room, then realized she too was spilling
blood. She went to the bathroom, grabbed a wash cloth and soaked it in warm
water, gently cleaning the blood off. She then bandaged it up to the best of
her abilities and put on a clean, blue dress. She walked back into her room and
looked at her parents again. She carefully knelt down and dipped her finger in
their blood, writing “Forget Me Not” beside them. She wiped her finger on her
mother’s shirt and stood up. She grabbed a draw string bag from her closet and
put together a small bundle of things then left her house, her mind full of
violence.
