𝑀𝐴𝐺𝑀𝐴 | 𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

𝟑 | 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐘

・𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐀・

𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 the woman in front of her. Her eyes were a darker shade of red, though what should've been the black of her pupils were instead a raging orange. Flecks of glowing yellow cracked apart the red of her irises. Streaks of flaming red interrupted the black of her hair. Her lips were blood red, but it was obvious that the colouring wasn't a lipstick's doing.

She groaned as she looked away from the mirror. She stretched out her hands in front of her, her displeased gaze settling onto the fiery orange glow that outlined her fingertips.

Ten years, and she still found it difficult to look at herself. She didn't know why she believed that her powers would suddenly disappear when she called upon them, or why she thought that one day she could be normal again. That was a hope that should've been retired a long time ago.

Besides, her parents wouldn't accept her either way. Ever since the first time her hair and eyes had altered, they could never look at her the same again. All she was in their eyes from then on, was some kind of demon. The fact that they were stubborn Christians wasn't helpful, either.

When the fire had first entered her life, just a little after she had turned twelve, her parents tried to keep it hidden. Cover up, wear gloves (and she went through many pairs, given how many she had burned holes through), and anytime her other appearance showed up, wear a hat and coloured contacts. It became a little better when she gained control over her powers—when she could choose when to switch between her alter form and her normal one. Either way, they kept her away from people and treated her like absolute shit. She could hardly remember what her life was like before then.

But it had all gone down the drain when the accident had happened. 

What else could her parents do at that point? They had tried their absolute best, right? They kept her locked in her room whenever she wasn't at school, fed her just enough so that she'd survive, and popped in to say hello every now and then. They had no choice but to kick her seventeen-year-old self out and swear that they'd call the police if she came back.

She managed to get by for a year. Whenever she wasn't at school, she was working at a diner or retail store. She'd sleep in a grimy old apartment room that cost her two-thirds of her part-time salary, and use the rest of that money to scrape by with food and water. She had managed to save up enough to get a car right before she graduated high school, though it had taken a few months of eating only bread and butter. It was shitty and beaten up, but hey, it worked, and that's all she cared about. She cleaned herself up nice enough that she wouldn't be given disgusted looks at school. But that never really mattered to her anyway—all she wanted were good grades and an impressive enough resume.

She had gotten lucky when Gotham University offered her a full-ride scholarship. Central City University had only offered half of that, and Midwestern University only proposed a thousand dollars. Gotham was far from home; but at that point, what could she even call home?

Now, she had full control over her powers. At first, she instantly changed whenever she was surprised or angry, whether she wanted to or not. Then, after some practice, she'd have to squeeze her eyes shut tight and really focus on willing her powers to come forth. Now, she barely had to give it a thought before she transformed.

She usually chose to keep her fiery appearance to a minimum—she never brought it out in front of people, obviously—and though her hatred for her powers never lessened, she still had to practice every now and then. She was afraid she'd lose control again. And this time, she couldn't lose anyone—especially Jaime.

She had very quickly decided that she'd never tell him about her powers. Why would she need to? He could use a lighter if he needed a candle lit, not her fingertip. She had the same fear with him that she did with everyone else: that he'd see her as a freak or demon and cut her out of his life. Maybe it was selfish of her to keep this information from him, especially when she knew that he hid nothing from her. But this was the one selfish thing she allowed herself to do.