Apathy - Avengers Fanfiction

A Perfect Angle

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Ophelia never liked how fake her family had been before but now, at the age of eleven and three years after she revealed her unnatural ability she wished she could live in that fake life forever. In public they were perfect, two intelligent politicians with their beautifully normal daughter. In private however they were broken and destroyed, no love was shared in that overly sized house and Ophelia knew it was her fault.

Her parents were always arguing about something, it almost always involved their horrible daughter. The long-haired girl watched as her father started drinking and her mother started smoking, mostly weed. How could she blame them? She was driving them up the walls, it seemed their happiness only came from those crutches.

What was wrong with her?

Why did she have to be this way?

At Least they were good at hiding it. Nobody who looked at the interviews and photos could guess what the family had fallen into, they looked perfect and that's what mattered. They looked perfect.

The now eleven-year-old girl stood looking at herself in a tall mirror, running her hands along her dress. She was always put in a dress. This one was red and short, stopping just above her knees. She had black leggings underneath and an expensive black jacket to match. She was wearing short, black heeled boots that zipped on the outermost side and had a brown coloured hair-tie around her right wrist, hidden beneath the jacket.

Her hair was long, reaching just below her bum now. Ophelia hated her hair, it was too long and thick. When she wakes up in the morning the first thing she has to do is brush her hair so it doesn't knot anymore then it does throughout the night, this taking at least an hour. If it was hot out her hair would get frizzy, resulting in it tangling up and just being an overall bother. If she could she'd cut it off or at least make it much shorter, maybe shave the sides or a pixie cut. It was pointless dreaming of course, her parents would never approve of such haircuts, the most she got was the edges trimmed.

With a sigh she rose her eyes to her face, ignoring the emotionless expression it wore. She now had freckles scattered across her cheeks, nose, and a few on her top lip. Some sat on her forehead though they weren't very dark or as obvious as the others. More ran down the tops of her arms and she even had a couple near her ankles and more hidden behind her ears.

Shaking her head she stood up straight, bringing her feet together and clasping her hands together in front of her. A smile fell over the girl's features and suddenly her entire demeanor had changed. Now she stood like she was excited to be going to this interview, like she was excited to be existing at all. Lying with her body came easily to her, like she'd done it her entire life. Which she had.

Leaving her room the young girl made her way down the stairs, moving over to her parents in confident strides. Without even a glance to the girl her parents turned out the door and into their car, her following close behind.

During the drive she never once dropped her facade, no matter how much the smiling made her jaw ache.

After maybe two hours they arrived at the place where the interview was being held, Ophelia never paid attention to the names. She didn't want to remember the events at interviews, if she did she could just look them up online and watch the videos or read about it in some online newspaper.

It took maybe three hours until she and her parents had finally been put in front of the many microphones of companies trying to catch the newest scoop. She stood smiling add her parents spoke about political junk she couldn't care less about, nodding when appropriate and just praying she wasn't agreeing to something stupid or offensive. It wouldn't make a difference though, she was pulled in by association.

As her parents finished up they began to walk through the crowd with security helping them through and back to their car. Surprisingly she didn't have to answer any questions, just thank them for any comments on her hair that they for some reason seemed to be jealous of.

Once they'd made it to the parking lot there were only a few people lingering around, most staring at them and others talking in favor of some other politician. While walking she must've stepped on a rock because her foot slipped inwards making her fall flat on her face. Ophelia pushed so she was sitting on her knees and examined her palm, shaking her head at the bloody scratches and scrapes.

Glancing up she noticed that her parents hadn't noticed her stumble, if she was quick they wouldn't notice at all. Without thinking she ran her fingers over the scratches and watched them scab over, much faster this time than before. Once her fingers stopped glowing and the scratches had scabbed over she stood up and quickly caught up with her parents.

She hadn't noticed the phone recording her once.

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The story spread like wildfire. First the video was posted to YouTube, then it got reposted on Twitter and Instagram. Eventually, after making its rounds on social media, the video landed on the news. The eleven-year-old girl watched in horror as she fell onto her knees and then healed her hand, whoever filmed it had a perfect angle of the entire thing.

Just as the video ended her door was slammed open. Her parents stared at her before advancing towards her bed, her father grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her out quickly.

Fear was evident on the young girl's features, she was shaking and struggling to keep up with her parents.

How could she be so stupid?

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