If Magic Existed

Chapter Two - 4-Second Outburst

Chapter Two

4-Second Outburst

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Throughout the rest of the day, Hazel met up with Ao, Guy and Emile after every class, walking with them to the next class. It was tense, to say the least- murderous, to say the most. Emile was ever silent, hanging behind a bit and not saying so much as a word. Guy firmly kept his conversation to explaining which room was which and whatnot. Ao was better, but she was still very unsettling to be around.

When the day was finally over, Hazel hurried home feeling more glad than she'd ever felt before. The orphanage seemed like a haven at the moment. She had to get there now. She had to make dinner for 37, set the table, get everyone down, eat, wash the dishes, clean the house, tend the garden, get the girls into their pajamas, there was so much to do!

She was detirmined to get work done as she tilted her head down and ran into the orphanage.  There was so much to do!  She was silent too- silent and detirmined and hard-working.

...but THAT girl was none of those things, least of all silent.

It's easy to know what is meant by 'THAT girl.' She was the girl who never stopped moving, who was obviously a crook, who talked so loudly, who grinned so obnoxiously. She was the girl who everyone curled their lips at and scooted their chairs away from.

She was the girl who called a space between storage boxes her home.

As she skipped down the street, though, no one could tell that. She was just an overly happy, possible hyperactive kid who probably loaded themselves up on sugar at home. She wasn't the girl who was forced to swipe from multiple pockets just to purchase her one meal a day at the nearest, cheapest supermarket.

Her clothes fit well since she'd bought ones that were far, far too big for her a long time ago and her stomach wasn't shriveled. The onlookers didn't know that her flat stomach was uncaved because of muscle, not food.

Down the street she shuffled, perfectly happy and cheerful. The people who had her fingers stuck momentarily in her pockets wouldn't notice the money gone until they got home. The crisp, cool spring air cleared her mind.  Most importantly, she didn't have green bolts of energy shooting radomly out of her body.  That's a plus.

She brushed past some rich guy in a professionally-tailored suit and mumbled an apology, earning a look of disugst and an eye roll.  These people really pissed her off beyond belief.  They practically radiated wealth.

[Yet they don't even care to protect their pockets,] Legacy thought, glancing down at the wallet clutched lightly in her fingers.

She counted out the money and other wallets up quickly, getting distracted by a few of the passing cars, and found that she would have 6 dollars left over- a whole 6 dollars!  Today truely was a perfect day.

And then she reached her home.

She stood outside of a bar- and a sketchy one at that- in the worst neighborhood of town. The lights flickered constantly and drunken fights were heard inside to the tune of shattering glasses. Yes, this was home- at least, the space between two stacks of boxes in the back alley was home.

As Legacy watched, her foot tapping thrice every second, the door swung open and a very drunk man with stubble staggered out. He reeked of cheap beer and his eyes sometimes went in opposite directions. Regardless, they moved in perfect unison when they lay on her.

She shivered in disgust as he lumbered towards her, her nose wrinkling at the smell. By the time she thought to run away, he was already there. "Hey there, sweetheart," he slurred, tripping over himself.