Centre of the Storm

Chapter Eighteen: Impossible Things

A/N: this is going to be a chapter from Beatrix's perspective! As much as I love writing from Damira's POV, I'm very exited to dig deeper into some other characters! This is going to be her backstory starting from when she first met Thomas! It's to give more clarity on her deal with him, and to introduce Thomas as a character

Beatrix sighed, and picked at the chipping purple nail polish on her thumb. She looked up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly one in the morning. She had been sitting at the police station for over three hours, and nothing was happening.

She was so tired, but she knew if she closed her eyes, she would dream about her mother, and she wasn't ready for that. She wasn't ready to face the fact that since her mother was gone, an Beatrix was now completely and utterly alone in the world.

She had known it would happen eventually. She had always felt it, like tension in the air. Her mother had been running from something, running from her past. Whatever it was, it had caught up to her, and taken her from Beatrix. She didn't believe it was the tree that had killed her mother. They hadn't let her see the body.

She heard footsteps approaching, and looked up. A tall man with brown hair was walking towards her. "Are you Beatrix?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded.

Beatrix looked up at him, and as she did, she felt a stabbing pain in her head, and tried not to wince. Then, the feeling of wanting something dearly washed over her. One would assume that was her emotion, coming from wanting her mother back, but it wasn't. It was his. She could tell. Male emotions were so different.

He sat down beside her. "My name is Thomas Abernathy," he said. "I heard about what happened. I'm sorry for your loss." Beatrix just nodded. "I heard they're having trouble finding you a foster home to stay."

She shrugged. "Worst case scenario, I can just sleep here."

He took a deep breath, and looked at her with piercing blue eyes. "There's something I need to ask you."

She looked over at him, suspicious but intrigued. He looked back at her, and Beatrix knew the way the way he looked at her. It was almost like he was afraid of her. Or, not afraid, that wasn't the right word. He looked excited, almost. Curious.

"Have you been experiencing anything strange lately? Maybe gotten some new abilities?" he asked. She didn't answer. "Are impossible things happening to you?"

Beatrix squeezed her hands together in her lap, not knowing what to say. The honest answer was yes, impossible things had been happening to her. But could she tell him that? "Why are you asking?" she opted for.

"I know it may sound very strange, but I could tell, just by looking at you. You have the air of someone who's very different than others, much more important. But not in a bad way. In a special way. Could you tell me about them?"

Something about being called special made her warm up to him. No one had ever called her that before, and she didn't think it was true. "I'm not special," Beatrix told him quietly, in her best sad little girl voice. "You don't even know me."

"I think you are. I think we should get to know each other," he told her. "Not like that," he added quickly, seeing the look on her face. But what was she supposed to think? What kind of man approached a young girl he'd never met before and began asking her intrusive questions? A man who was clearly American?

"What if I was?" she asked. "What if I could do impossible things?"

"Then I would ask how long you'd been able to," he said calmly.

Beatrix  thought for a minute. "I don't really know." That wasn't actually true, but she wasn't about to tell him that, not when she didn't know what he wanted.

"We'll have to talk more about that later. But for now, I have an idea. I own an orphanage," he told her. "How would you like to come stay there?"

Her mother had told her many stories as a young child, and even though it was long ago, Beatrix could remember them all. Her best, most detailed one, was about children who lived together in a hospital, but found out that the doctors were evil, so they helped each other escape. She had read her stories from books as well. One had been about a young boy who lived at an orphanage and had lots of adventures with his friends.

Beatrix nodded. "Fine." It was that or a foster home.

He smiled. "Come with me, and we'll go. I'll call ahead and have a room set up for you."

Thomas got up, and extended a hand to her. She took it and stood up as well, and he gestured for her to follow him as he walked towards the doors.

The orphanage turned out to be in America, and they took a plane, a fancy private one. Thomas even let her have champagne on it. Once they arrived at the orphanage it was the next day, but Beatrix didn't feel tired. She had always been a night owl, and lately she was used to little sleep. They went inside, and he took her far upstairs, down a short hallway, and into a dark room. He flicked a switch and they were bathed in light.

Beatrix looked around the office. It wasn't a small room, but she wouldn't say it was large either. There was a desk that took up nearly half the room, and a few paintings on the walls. She vaguely recognized them from pictures online. They looked expensive.

"You're probably wondering why I brought you here," he said. He pulled another chair over to his desk. "Sit down." Beatrix sat down. "The truth is, I brought you here for a reason." Well obviously, she snarked inside her head. He pulled a Manila envelope out of the desk and pushed it over to her.

Beatrix opened it curiously, and looked in. There was a picture of a pretty girl in it. She had long dark hair that framed her face, and large brown doe eyes. "Who is this?" she asked.

"Just read it." Beatrix flipped through the folder.

It said her name was Damira Williams, she was fifteen, and she had been at the orphanage for seven years. "Why are you showing me this?"

He sighed, and leaned back on his chair. "Because you don't have to be here, Beatrix. There's a lovely, very wealthy family with a daughter close to your age that has said they would love to have you stay with them. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"So why am I here?" 

He smiled slightly. "Because there's something I want you to do for me first. Something to convince me you belong amongst the elite." Thomas looked into her eyes. "Damira is like you. She also has strange abilities. But they're not like yours. Her abilities have the possibility of becoming violent, destructive."

"Why?" Beatrix asked. "What are they?"

"That's for you to find out. But be careful, she can easily become dangerous."

She looked down at the folder again. Damira certainly didn't look dangerous. She looked like any other teenager.

"I need you to meet her and befriend her. Try to find out what you can about her. And tell me everything you can."

Beatrix paused, uncertain. "Why?"

Thomas sighed, looking annoyed that she hadn't grasped it yet. "To keep this orphanage safe. To keep the world safe, from her."

"And if I do that, I get to leave here? I get to have a normal life?" He nodded.

Beatrix thought for a minute. She knew it was wrong, to befriend someone, to pretty much spy on them, just to get what she wanted. But she wasn't about to trade having a semi-normal life for some girl she didn't even know.

And she hadn't told Thomas all of her powers. It was really none of his business. If it all went to shit, Beatrix always had a couple of cards up her sleeve.

"Everything will be taken care of," he continued. "Do we have a deal?"