Philophobic : Tyler Galpin

23: Identity and Controlless

Monday afternoon, November 5th

[victoria's pov]

Sneaking into my mother's office like Wednesday suggested, I found myself hiding in her closet. The stillness of the room and quietness was nothing compared to the rowdiness going on outside. I was expecting my mother to be away since what happened over the weekend at the Rave'N.

My hands skimmed through her bookshelf. They were all unlabeled, with plain book sleeves. Surely, that was strange and couldn't have just been to match her office. Surely, there was something she was hiding.

Knowing my mother, she wasn't one to try to be so secretive–she was a natural at it, playing the role of transparency and innocence just perfectly. I expect that's why Tyler's dad has been on her tail recently–because she was slowly losing her touch.

I noticed a shimmer of silver from a book's pages. It was the only book of the others that wasn't coated with dust. Naturally, that made the rest touch deprived.

Removing it from off the shelf, I took off the sleeve of the book, revealing the title.

"Fantastic Creatures and Where to Find Them," I read quietly to myself. "Creatures? Is that what outcasts are known as from another perspective?"

I opened the book, seeing sketches of werewolves, gargoyles, phantoms, shapeshifters, and more. It was like a dictionary of creatures, but each of them was dedicated with specific details. The book was in chronological order and I didn't know where to start.

But as I skimmed through the book, I noticed that out of all of the drawings, there was one that looked like a completely normal human being. With no fangs, no abnormal deformities or highlighted facts. It was normal–and also happened to have barely a page of information.

"A mimic," escaped my lips, drawing my attention more. I've never heard of a mimic, and I found it odd considering how many outcasts had attended this school. My eyes trailed to the description as I continued reading.

"Mimics are practically a myth. They appear to be like every next door neighbor. Much like witches, mimics can perform magical abilities. But not in the way you think. The abilities of mimics are exactly as they sound–to mimic others abilities. Sometimes at their own will, sometimes by mistake."

I could feel my heart racing as I read on.

"Mimics' closest relation would be empaths, as they can sense the emotions of others and sometimes mimic the emotions. Emotions are what drives a mimic's abilities. Though mimics are rumored to be tamable, it doesn't make them any less dangerous as they are. They are unpredictable, creating a reputation. A mimic could become a werewolf and banshee in just one day. Because of the mimics' recklessness, they're now unheard of since their mark as the bane of all creatures as of the 1800s. As of the 21st century, not a single mimic has been unearthed, proving them to be as they are: a myth. But myths are also known to be true stories once forgotten..."

My eyes burned into the pages with a stinging sensation. That was it? The information was practically useless. Where was the origin? The- the cure?

It hit me that I was in this category of creatures... I am a mimic.

"What're you doing in my office?"

The book slipped from my hands and slammed onto the ground, as everything in the room seemed to turn to me. My tall mother's figure emerged from the shadows as she shut the door behind her with a stern expression.

"You're supposed to be at violin practice right now," she said as her tone grew threatening.

But practice was the last thing on my mind. For all these years I thought I was a normie, she had to have known I was more than that. Otherwise this wouldn't have been sitting on her shelf.