Erik Lehnsherr always raised Estelle to be proud of who she was. To believe that she was the brightest star in the sky. When he gets taken away for assassinating the president, Elle is left to make up her own mind about right and wrong. With her gro...
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Book one:
-Fate-
I tend to find myself staring out of my bedroom window, looking up at the stars. My dad taught me how to do this years ago. Back then things felt simple and concrete. I used to hold onto the ignorance of right and wrong, darkness and light. Now...I just see the world as it is. There are no 'bad guys' and there are no 'heroes.' There's just the people who side with you, and the people who don't. Despite all of that, I still do remember his words.
"No matter how out of place you might feel, just look out at the stars." My Dad said, his voice firm and comforting. "You Estelle, shine far brighter than any of them. The others...they just don't see that yet."
"But how do I show them? How do I make them see?" I asked.
He just shook his head with a smile. "That is my goal everyday, Estelle. To show this world that there is no need for people like us to hide. We are the jewels amongst the rubble, never forget that."
Suddenly I'm torn out of my memories by a flash darting by the building across from me. Not a weird sight, though I would have thought Peter would be asleep by now. That's actually how we first bonded. Sure, we've been next door neighbors for a few years but this isn't some sappy sitcom. Peter and I didn't even talk to each other until we got put in some stupid after school seminar about how teenagers need eight hours of sleep a night and eight cups of water a day. I swear, the whole thing was a bore and without Peter I would have literally died of disinterest.
Besides, it's not like either of us stay up for no reason. Peter can't sit still, I don't even know if he's physically capable of it. You see, he's like me, a mutant. Well, I guess he's not 'like me.' He can run, faster than anything humanly possible. What I can do...well, lets just say going to bed isn't an option. Not if I want to stay here. Not if I want my foster mother, Miss Jensan, to keep believing I'm just an ordinary thirteen year old girl.
💙💙💙
I walk down the long sidewalk, shuddering at the thought of my arrival to the bus stop. I hate school, no hate doesn't sound quite right. I dread school. I didn't used to, not up until a few months ago. To be honest with you I actually think I used to find the whole experience comparable to a game. One that I could sometimes lose, but a game nonetheless.
'Hey Jude' plays in my headphones. The song's pretty good, not my favorite though. Peter somehow manages to get his hands on all the best hits. I don't know how-well I do know how. I just don't like to admit that my friend's a kleptomaniac, even to myself. It's just too depressing.
Anyways, 'Hey Jude' was the only cassette I had my hands on this morning and not bringing a song to school is out of the question. Listening to music doesn't make things entirely better, it does seem to block out some of the...unwanted sounds though.
