History
I can help you.... Whispers a soft, alluring voice.
Yes..." is all I can say.
How I regret such a small word....
~*~
I grew up never knowing my mother. I don't know if she's alive or dead, if my father chased her off, killed her, or she ran from him, or if she just abandoned her family. I've never known and I never will know, I suppose. Mordred doesn't remember her much, though she "left" not long after I was born, and he was five at that time. Whatever he should remember is gone, for some reason. I don't think he tries that hard, but I don't know that I blame him, either.
But my father.... Well, it's rather hard to forget him. I have no pleasant memories of my father, though. And I have never hated anyone so much in my life. And I know I never will. Nothing my brother or I did will ever give him the right to treat us the way he did. He was a drunk who literally threatened to kill both his sons if we didn't obey him. He made us terrified to talk to anyone, turning both my brother and myself into social outcasts. He called us freaks for our powers (which all we know comes from our mother) and told us we were demons to posses them. He frightened my brother so badly that he still won't use his powers except in times of critical need. I, however, use my powers every second of the day since I've been away from him.
It was my brother who finally had enough of it. When my father threw me across a room, very nearly snapping my neck, Mordred said enough was enough. He didn't care if we were demons or freaks, no one should be treated like this, least of all by their own father. We had to keep quiet and out of arm's (and leg's) reach for about a week to heal our bruises and cuts to have enough strength to make our run for it. Drunk or not, my father was quick. Not as fast as me or my brother (we can both move at relatively the speed of light), but it was in those times we feared using our powers. I was twelve when I ran with my brother.
We left that man far behind. I'm still not sure how far we traveled, but we didn't stop for two months straight. We just couldn't get far enough away, and the freedom was intense.
It was about this time that I encountered my first wild lightning chase. It was something I'd never done before, but amid the thunder and rain, it felt almost natural. Streaking through storm-gripped skies at unnatural speeds, able for the briefest moments to push my powers to their limits.... Oh, I've been addicted to it ever since. I hunt down the big storms now.
But life was hard. We had never had to be so... open before. The world was suddenly huge. Even to my brother. He became over-bearing protective, almost. Sometimes it was annoying. I understood, of course. I was all he had, and he felt a need to guard that with his life. But still... he could get a little paranoid at times.
Oh, but his paranoia was
nothing compared to what
I was about to feel....
I remember, oh so clearly, the first night I heard
him. My brother and I had a small apartment in the middle of the most rundown town for miles. It was in the early months of running away, and we couldn't get a different place. We were freak orphans running around without a clue and scared half to death of our own shadows on the streets. We were lucky to get the crap hole we had.
The downtown city was dangerous. Even to those with "extra" gifts like me and my brother. I personally hated using my powers outside of lighting chasing. I
liked feeling like I might be normal, and I
hated hurting people. And, in those first few months after running away, I was still trying to get an idea of the power I possessed. Controlling it was difficult (though I was used to suppressing it) and it could easily get away from me or fail me completely.
It was one of those rare nights I was alone. Mordred almost always was with me wherever we went. We were always together. But I was trying to taste freedom for the first time and my naturally rebellious spirit was getting it first taste of life away from my father. I needed these alone moments when Mordred was searching for a job to support us. I was still too young for anyone to hire.
I should of known better then to walk the back allies. I should have walked on the better-lit streets, were at least the occasional car kept thieves and worse at bay. But I could smell the on-coming rain, and I've always liked heading north. The uptown streets were south. And I wanted to see if I could catch the first glimpses of storm clouds, maybe meet it head-on.
But I wasn't going to get that far. I got jumped by a gang of seven huge boys about nine blocks from the apartment building I lived in. And let me just say this: if you don't have any money or valuables on you, it doesn't deter thugs; they don't say "Oh, you're broke? Well, my mistake. Goodnight." No, they just get seriously pissed. And those pissed-off thugs usually have knives. And then the decided whether or not you make a better pin-cushion or target practice.
I was terrified. The beating I was getting by this point was making my father look like a cuddly kitty. I had at least three broken ribs and was spewing blood, which they found amusing. I was wishing they'd use those damned knives already and get it over with....
My powers were on hiatus and they were pretty much only receiving one good shock to about every five kicks. So instead of hurting them, I was just making them mad. It was like poking a hornet nest. I didn't know what to do. Releasing as much power as I could would definitely kill them all... and probably anyone else within a five block radius. And I couldn't put out the smaller amounts I needed to. I was going to be beaten and/or stabbed to death, all because I couldn't control the stupid ability that would easily get me out of the situation. Well, not being able to breathe at this point wasn't helping matters....
And then I heard him.
I can help you.... It was like someone had whispered in my ear, the words were so clear. Had I not been retching blood and bracing myself for another brutal kick to the chest or stomach, I might have jumped at the sound.
Do you want me to help you?
Was this person insane?! Of course I wanted help! I was
dying! Or, rather, begging for death at this point. But the voice repeated twice more before I could draw in half a breath. "Yes... yes, please...." I couldn't be sure if the sound left my lips.
What did you say, punk?" snarled one of the huge boys. Most of the rest just laughed.
What happened then was a blur and I can't be sure if the memory was even my own. It was like watching a film play out, but through my own eyes. I could feel my lips pull up into a sudden grin, but I was certain I'd never made the effort.
The electricity I could always feel in the air suddenly shifted all its weight until every current in the ally was directed toward me. I think it was right then that I realized I was pulling my power from the wrong place. I could feel the static charge of electricity building up in my fingertips, spreading to my hands, up my arms, though my chest, down my legs to the tips of my toes.
I saw all the boys freeze, but I heard a wicked sounding laugh, a dark growling sound that would have sent shivers down my spine... but the sound came from
me.
I think I actually blocked out most of what happed after that. I can just remember leaping to my feet (though how I managed, I'll never know) and feeling the power of electricity streaking through my very bloodstream, bolts of it flying from my open hands, feeling the static charge behind my eyes (I later learned that my eyes glow when I use so much energy. It's an interesting feeling...).
A funning thing happens when electricity is charged through my body at that degree. It speeds everything up. Not just my movements, but my heartbeat, my breathing... it's like someone put me on fast-forward. So guess what else speeds up? My healing.
By the time I "came to", I was almost entirely healed. Oh, completely exhausted from the mass use of electricity, but physically fine. I just needed to sit down a moment.
All seven boys were laying on the ground, and two of them weren't breathing. Another had a gash in the side of his neck and I knew he wouldn't live long. Right then I knew I'd just killed three people.
I was going into shock, I could feel that, but something made me move. I had no energy left, I knew it, but somehow I stumbled home. I partially remember screaming half the way, but I don't remember if anyone heard or talked to me. I got to the apartment and went to pieces after barely making it in the door.
I passed out from exhaustion at some point, I know, because I woke up in my bed and my now-frantic brother told me he'd nearly tripped over me coming in the door and nothing he'd done had brought me around. He was seriously freaked, but it was nothing compared to how I was feeling. It only took him a moment to realize his panic wasn't helping and that was the first time Mordred hid his true feelings from me, trying to calm me down. There'd never been a need before....
I told him all I could remember. Then I locked myself in the bathroom (that was the only separate room in the tiny apartment) and refused to come out until I'd sorted things out for myself.
I had my first conversation with him then. Like some stupid cliché film, I stared at myself in the mirror and talked to myself... until the reflection talked back. I nearly had another panic attack.
But I learned things then. Like that the panic I'd felt in the ally had caused so much stress on my mind that it had... well, sort of split in two. I'd developed a separate consciousness that was stronger then I was
willing to be. A kind of opposite of myself.
Once I learned that... it was strangely better. It was... a comfort. To learn that I had my own shield.... Oh, man, what a foolish, stupid,
stupid thought that was.
From a voice that could sometimes control what I did to an actual consciousness I could
feel that might control me when I
didn't need it. And from that to something that I actually argued with. Often. Mordred called him "Attraction", after the last name I'd given myself. He was strong enough now to have a whole other half of me, his own name. But because he
was me, he didn't have one to call himself. His ease at taking
my name made me more uncomfortable then I'll ever be willing to admit.
And now.... Well, now nothing is sacred to me. Nothing is private, nothing is my own. I can't hide, even in my own mind.
Attraction is now so strong... well, to be truthful, I'm terrified. He
looks for dangerous situations. He loves them. He gets me hurt, a lot.
He doesn't care to suppress
our power. Over which both of us have absolute control now. I will only thank him there.... He taught me to control myself and my powers.
But if continues getting stronger.... I'm so terrified that soon
I'll be the voice in the back of
his head... and then nothing at all. Although his progression has slowed... I can't say that it has stopped entirely. He can now block me out completely, though he does have to fight be for control. He can hurt me from the inside, but in the same way I can hurt him. It rarely comes to that, because we're really hurting ourselves.
He freely talks in plural (a small comfort), but I refuse to uphold the same courtesy. This is still
my body, and
he's the infecting parasite.
Heh, heh, heh.... Oh, the things he'll believe....
.TBC.
