Just last week, my english teacher asked me a question. A constant question that has been bugging and nagging me for years now.
He had asked me, "Kailia, is there a reason why you just turn a blind eye to everything you or someone else does?"
I had no idea how to put my thoughts into words. I had a perfect explanation, but there was no way that I could say it. It would go against everything that I've been trying to keep hidden. Every muscle, bone and fiber of my being is tied around the answer to that question. It would result in the destruction of cities, empires even, if I had answered that question.
Others must never know of who I am and what I am capable of. The result would be tremedously horrifying.
My power must be reserved, kept hidden from the world.
* * *
"Mommy! Mommy!" I shout as the naive little girl I used to be once upon a time ago.
"Kailia! Get back to your room, now!" I cower back in horror, my mommy had never screamed so angrily at me before. I was frightened.
"Mommy!" I run towards her, grabbing onto her legs and hugging them tightly.
She tries kicking me off; I just hold on tighter. She grabs me by my arms. When she does that, I think she's taking me into her warm motherly embrace, but instead she throws me across the room. I bang my head against the wall and fall to the floor in one big heap.
"Mommy!" I scream when I lift my head up to her. "Mommy!"
She looks away from me in disgust. She starts walking towards the door, reaching for her jacket, purse and keys. Before she can twist the knob and open the door, it bursts open on its own.
"Mommy!" I scream again, scooting along the floor towards her. "Mommy!"
"She's not your mommy, honey." The man who burst our door open had said to me.
I look up at him through my firey red hair that has fallen in my eyes. Tears brim on the edge of my eyes, nearly engulfing my vision. I gulp back a scream at this scary looking man towering above me.
"Who are you?" I barely manage to say without whimpering a bit. "Mommy?"
The scary man looks over his shoulder at my mommy. He gives her this mean face, which I later found out was a glare.
"No, dear. I am not your mommy. Neither am I your daddy." He stares down at me, his large black eyes engulfing my tiny child figure. "I am Marx Savage, the only man in charge around here." He grounds his teeth together. "I have been sent to retrieve you."
"But, I thought you said you were the one in charge around here? Who else would want to retrieve me but you?" I ask in the most sarcastic way for a young child my age.
Marx looks down on me with slight shock and anger in his eyes. He gives me a nod and goes to explain.
"You see how annoying and draining she is now, Marx?" My mommy says from the other side of the room. "There's a reason why I called you. And she is that reason."
"She is not as annoying and draining as how you used to be." He grounds his teeth again. "She is much like her parents."
"They were complete imbusiles, blind to the freaking world. She is nothing like them. I raised her! She is like me!"
* * *
Images of my past still haunt me.
Taunting me of what used to be and never will be again.
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