Chapter 1 - Finger tips, to window pane.

The rain that beat behind the empty window pane showed to me a reflection of the girl who stared with uninterest and instilled discontent. Her lips were turned down in a sad kind of way, and her amber eyes did not shine with the light that they once had. Her hair, as dark as the window that reflected the night, lay piled on her head with a pen and pencil crossed beneath its' length to hold it in place. She leaned, hunched over her workspace, and each exhaled breath met the window with a huff, leaving a small space of clouded glass. The little lamp shoved to a corner of the desk she sat behind, bore a little puddle of illumination that washed over scattered sheets of loose leaf notebook paper, a hand held Thesaurus, and a similar sized Webster's Dictionary. Her hand, my hand, hovered like a shy child over the unblemished sheets. Two whole weeks to prepare, to write, to edit, and still nothing. My mind was blank. An empty shell that would not admit the presence of words or sentences. It was like a Nuclear Test Site, barring all intruders, evacuating all inhabitants, leaving nothing but the ghosts of lovely images to make the soul yearn for freedom. Weariness was beyond me, a thing of the past that simply could not have a place on my little plane of Earth. Hunger had dissapated days ago, when logic had turned to frantic, panicky dilusion. The rain had been consistent throughout the week, proving that Coupeville, Washington was good at living up to it's reputation. When dad had decided to move, he hadn't mentioned a damned thing about the uncanny wetness, or the freezing cold winters. He'd said "Coupeville is what we need Rai. It's small, and beautiful. No one knows us there, and it'll be easier to start over."

I knew better. I understood the fact that he only wished to make this easier for the both of us, but starting over, no matter where, was never going to be "easy". Moving may have let us leave behind the home, the town, the people,the rumors and the accusations. Yet, in my heart,the pain still refused to withdraw its' comfort. I didn't want to think about it anymore, didn't want to dwell on the facts of the matter. But, I seemed to be consumed by it. My school work had completely gone to pieces; my grades had steadily dropped and I hadn't even considered estabishing a social life. Being in Coupeville a whole two months, Dad and I had already been introduced to nearly every resident, he had even found a lady friend at the local pharmacy which he now visited. "Rai," he'd say, "You should really try to make some friends, go out like a normal seventeen year old instead of couping yourself up in this...dungeon." And always, I would respond, "Dad, you tend to forget, I'm not a normal seventeen year old. Mom knew it well, why can't you ever remember?" And like ritual, Dad would huff out an exasperated sigh, mumble something in French, and stalk out like a little boy who had been scolded against throwing stones.

I truly hated to see him that way. After all, we were in this position because of me. Mom had left, because of me. People had begun rumors, and ostracised us, because of me. And now Dad, he was miserable, because of me. With a heavy hand, I let my pen drop to the wooden surface with a dull thud. Inching forward, I blew out a hot bit of air and then reached out so that I could rest the tips of my fingers against the chilled glass. Almost instantly, the heat of my body resonated and pushed itself outward onto the glass, leaving five small dots. It was a natural reaction. The warmth from my fingers erasing the moisture collected on the window from the mixing of my breath and the cold air. Why couldn't I be so natural? Why did my talent have to be so adverse to this comparitively tame act of nature? Why, because people could not explain it with their science and their internet. They couldn't put it into categories or make it bow to their will. It was because they feared what it might do to their patterned lives, their rituals and lies. It was not normal, and therefore, made it unnatural and worthy of punishment. But how could such people, people who know nothing but lies, and live in a world of body altering surgeries and facial reconstruction, tell me that I am not normal? It is because there are more of them than there are me. Majority rule, mass outnumbering, the popular fad of hating the freak of society. It's easy enough to blend in and follow the tide, but when you're stuck swimming upstream, nothing seems possible.

A loud roil of thunder interrupted my wayward thoughts and my eyes focused on the sky beyond the pelting rain. The moon must have whispered sweet nothings to the clouds, for in that moment they parted just enough for her nearly swollen form to be seen through the storms chaos. My jaw clenched instinctively at the sight, and the muscles in my thighs contracted in apprehension. The tension in my bones grew until it was almost painful, causing me to stand and grip the wooden edge of my desk like a life line. The fine hairs all over my body itched like a mad rash, and though tempting as it was, I refused to remove my clothing. "No no no...not..tonight. It can..it can wait." The feeling was almost like being torn in two. One way beckoning with sensibility, rationality, and the normalties of everyday life. The other, pleading with me to give into temptation, welcome the change, and explore the wonderous feelings that it could offer. I wanted so badly to let the other half of me, the lawless form of wilderness, interchange with my humanity. "No!" The word that rumbled though my vocal chords was ladden with a beastial yowl, as primal as they come. My face, I could feel, was now sodden with saddness and my nails had carved new streaks in the soft wood of my desk. As the tautness in my body slowly faded to a slack relaxation, I was inconceivably aware of falling to my knees.

The hard floor could have been plush carpeting, for the pain, if there had been any, didn't make it to my comprehensible mind. Instead, I sat like that, my legs bunched beneath me, and arms wrapped around my stomach as I contented myself to rocking back and forth; like a child lost in turmoil. "I can't make another misake..." My voice was almost a stranger to me, thick, strained and not unlike the rustling of dry leaves. "It's not normal..it's not natural." I tried half-heartedly to convince myself, but it was to no avail. The part of me that wanted it, was stronger than the one that did not.

I didn't hear tap on my door, or the sound of it opening, but the clap of my Dad's boots on the floor made me raise my head, eyes wild behind fallen hair. "Rai, honey...what happened? I heard you-" I cut him off with eager arms searching for a caring embrace. At first he was clueless, but I knew that his confusion would capsize into understanding when I began to apologize. I had almost lost control, almost become the very thing that had ruined my family, ruined his life, his marriage. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, didn't mean to ruin everything for you Dad, I'm sorry!" My body shook now with my sadness, and my apologies could not fix the hole I had created. With a soft squeeze, he pushed me back and tried his best to fix me with a stern fatherly look. "Raielle, listen to me. If there was one thing in this lifetime, that I would want you to know, it would be the simple fact that even if your mother had been able to cope with your.." He tilted his head in sincere thought.

His pause in words nearly made me cringe, but I knew how he felt. What was it called? How could you explain that? I shook my head slightly "My special ability, Dad?" He nodded approvingly at the positive sound of it. "Yes...your special ability, neither of us could have convinced her to stay. Your mother and I..well you could say we had been having problems long before any of that turned up in the equation. I guess it just got to be too much for her. To form a point Rai, don't let it eat you up inside. You're and intelligent young woman, one who should live a normal life. I'd like to think you want to come out of this room just to eat and go to school."

He gave a small chuckle, trying to lighten the dim mood that seemed almost palpable,and hung in the air. I tried out a small nod, hoping that it would convince him that his words had actually sounded like truths. "By the way.." He gave way to squinting his eyes behind is glasses, something that he did when trying to remember something of importance. "..Don't you have a paper due tomorrow? In that case, I'll leave you be. I'll be just down the stairs if you need me Rai."

I stood there and listened to the echo of his work boots, down the stairs, through the kitchen,until they stopped in the living room, and then the sound of the television took over. With my arms sagging tiredly at my sides, I weighed my few options.The possibility of me finishing a seven page essay from scratch, in eight hours, was not likely. Even so, with this new, even if false,information,swimming around up there now, and the event that had just nearly played out, my mind was far too cluttered to make room for information on the Fall of the Roman Empire. Without thinking, I turned my view to the open window. The clouds were now back to guarding their mistress, her nearly swollen belly so strong that it still caused the fine hairs on my body to stand on end. The paper would just have to go undone, and I would once more, receive a zero for a major grade, putting me back to a C in the subject.How small a problem, in comparison, that sounded when put next to the question; what am I?