Birth Right

Hi. This is my first story. This is the first chapter and there will be more.

Hope you enjoy :)

Please vote and follow if you like.

Chloe x

Chapter 1

I have always known that I was somehow different to other people. All through my life there have been strange things that have happened that I can’t explain. Things that go beyond physics, things that should be impossible. I should have realised sooner that it was caused by me and that I have abilities but at the time I tried to forget the freak that I was. There is so much to tell so much to say about my life. I feel as if to write it all down it would spread along a million pages, never ending.

                My first ability I realised was mind reading. When I was a small child I thought that it was nothing but whispers. Haunting whispers like that of distant ghosts. However, I soon realised I answered questions before someone was to even ask me it. I soon began to understand my ability and master it. I learnt to pick out a certain voice in the crowd and focus their thoughts and get the information I needed. Let me just say, I never seemed to struggle at school work ever again. However, it was not always great. Not everyone has nice thoughts.

                When I was two, my mother passed away. She took a tumble down the stairs. After a police inquiry they stated it was an “accident” suffered by exhaustion after looking after me at the time but as the years passed I knew better than that.  I loved my mum. The vague memories and pictures make me mourn her every day. If only I had been older, maybe I could have stopped the real reason as to why she died.

                My dad.

                He was a drunk, abusive person. My mum was too scared to leave in case he would find us. For as long as I can remember he was like that. He was a demon. My mother being too scared to leave realised the true horror he had become. It was too late. From reading his mind, I saw his memory. I became him.

The blurred vision. The stumbling walking as I staggered drunkenly after her. I screamed vile words of abuse. I was in a rage. My thoughts were unclear, mixed up, confused. I looked down upon my shaking hand containing the vodka bottle. I took a drink and rubbed my mouth with my sleeve before dropping the bottle on the floor. The clear liquid spilt onto the carpet.  I towered menacingly towards her. Backing her towards the stairs.

Please stop this. Think about Alexandria, our daughter. Please John. Calm Down.

 I heard her voice trembling. Yet the words meant nothing. I grabbed hold of her throat tightly. I heard her gasp. Her eyes widened. Without a second thought, I threw her down the stairs. I heard the crashing as her hands scraped desperately for a holding to which she didn’t find. Her body fell to the bottom of the stairs. All that was left was her body with her neck twisted in a horrible angle as if possessed. Yet, I didn’t care.

I never trusted my dad again. I never loved him. He murdered my mother. He was nothing more than a monster to me. Even more of a monster than I felt about myself. My life didn’t really get much better. After the revelation about my dad when I was 7, I spent four more drunken and abusive years with him. I kept my head down in school trying to focus on anything but the disaster my life had become at home. My one and only ability I had discovered I kept hidden and controlled as best as I could but it was never easy. At home, I hid away in my bedroom keeping anything treasured in a small delicate box under my bed to save it from my dad’s inevitable rage. It contained all my memories of my mum, pictures, necklaces and bracelets. All that was left of her.