The Calm and the Storm [#NaNoWriMo15]

6. All That Glitters Is Not Gold

In his time with Reyna, he didn't learn much about her at all. He knew that she was aware of her lack of communication, but she didn't do anything to compromise it. Silence seemed to be something she fused well with. Living alone for your whole life, with no one to talk to seemed to be the only reason this was a problem. However, Atticus didn't press for information; he hadn't been completely honest with her, either. Maybe she felt his dishonesty and that was why she was holding back? He would never know, but it didn't fuss him. The more he knew of her, the closer they would get, and all that was doing was giving Nathaniel something else to hurt him with. So he kept as much as he could from her, and was grateful for her returning the favour even if she was doing it unintentionally.

It had been, what, 3 days? 3 days since Atticus had found this place and taken it as his safe haven, his sanctuary. His safe place to hide from his brother while he searched for the courage to take a stand. He didn't know where that was going to come from; he had always been the boy hiding away in the corner at school, never raising his hand to answer questions. He left school as soon as he was able, when he turned 16. He was organised, prepared for the day. He knew that school was the only safe place he had to escape to for the many years he had attended it, but he couldn't concentrate. He understood all the work, but he could never do any homework and since some little things reminded him of Nathaniel or his parents' departure, there wasn't really much else to focus on. He left as soon as he was able, and his workplace became his new sanctuary. But not even that could hold him forever; he couldn't just ask for endless shifts, because he wasn't the only one with needs.

His time in the metal factory had been quiet. Conversation between himself and Reyna had dropped quite a lot until it was just a curt nod whenever they encountered each other which wasn't very often. Atticus spent most of his time talking to the voice in the back of his head, which had become his rather annoying but tolerable partner. He didn't know why, but it was just a better option than having to stare into those alluring blue eyes of the little lightning girl in the metal factory.

Reyna was a tough girl to figure out, yet she lay all her emotions out in front of her without realising it. She was making it easy for people to read her, and yet Atticus found trouble in doing so. The girl was so gentle, so sweet. She was the kind of girl that could do damage beyond anything anyone had seen, but simply hurting a fly would break her heart. Her powers, however strong and prevailing they may have been, were simply a hobby of hers. Why did she have them? What did she use them for? Did she enjoy the power? But Atticus knew she didn't obsess over them as anyone else in her place would have. She didn't want to hurt anyone. Maybe it had something to do with her mother hurting her? Atticus had already guessed that Reyna's mother had been abusive towards her, just as Nathaniel was to himself. But why would her father hide her away in some factory, knowing what she would turn into if she stayed? Why would such a man go to such incredible lengths to stop a few slaps?

Atticus grimaced as he thought it, even. Abuse was not something to be treated so lightly. It was serious, and a real problem. And it didn't even matter that it was illegal; what about those who didn't have the courage to stand up and say that they were a victim of it? What if they were scared of what would happen to them? There was something wrong with society, but what could one boy do?

Everything.

Reyna was something different, though. It seemed she was here for a reason. Maybe her mother couldn't enter, what with the tank and all, which was why she stayed here. There was a bunch of reasons, but none of them seemed to fit. The girl seemed at peace with everything, and her gentle air gave of the feeling that she wasn't one for violence.

Then Atticus' mind flickered back to his screams, still echoing off the walls around him. They weren't fake. And neither was the anger.

No, that's not right. The rage. It was overwhelming, almost drowning. Almost like every bad memory had just rippled to the surface of her skin with the electricity, and would have consumed him if he weren't a home to it already. He would have died if he wasn't different. His life could have been snatched away from him, just like that. And from a girl full of such peace and serenity? He never would have guessed. Her movements were so graceful, like she had had no need for any clumsiness with no room for error. In a place so confining, she knew it off by heart and had no trouble in picking up the natural movements of any other human. Only, she wasn't human, and neither was Atticus. A vessel, apparently, wasn't human. It was basically a container, which always reminded Atticus of the cookie jar he kept in his room when he was little. He'd sneak one cookie at a time into the jar until they'd eventually disappear from the kitchen. Nathaniel would be blamed every time, and Atticus would get endless cookies. Basically, he was the jar and the electricity was the cookies. Thinking of it that way just made it all seem so childish, so carefree. But in reality, Atticus was still adjusting to the fact that he wasn't human. How could that be? Unlike Reyna, he still had to eat, drink, shower and use the toilet. How come, if they were both the same beings, they both acted so differently? Reyna's words were smooth and made of velvet, without a single stutter to be found. He also noticed that she never spoke her words linked; she said every word on its own neatly, clearly and with no hesitation. She was more fluent with a language she had never been taught than Atticus was after going to school for a decade.