Power and Control(Michael Clifford)

Nine

After a week of being ignored by Michael, I had a dream. Only, it wasn't exactly a dream. It was a memory. Not my own, but Michael's.

"Michael are you almost ready?" I looked in the mirror to see Michael staring back at me. His hair was a soft blue, sticking up in every direction.

"Almost, dad! Be down in a second!" I called. Michael's voice was different. It wasn't as deep and gravelly. It was human. Soft and safe. I made my way down the stairs of what I somehow recognised to be home. I saw the familiar sandy haired man from the last memory of Michael's I'd seen.

"Are you ready, Michael?" Pride bubbled up In me. It was time for my transformation. Whatever that meant.

"I'm ready"

I awoke to pitch darkness with someone in the bed across the room. I laid back and took a deep breath. I couldn't tell why I'd had another of Michael's memories. It didn't make any sense. I wasn't in the room, or touching any of them. None of it made sense. As I contemplated, the glass of the window broke, and a dark figure crouched in it. I backed myself up against my headboard and took the breath to scream.

"I wouldn't do that unless you want this whole damn town obliterated!" The figure hissed. I decided against the scream. The figure let his feet hit the floor and strolled slowly, tauntingly toward me. A claw ran down my face slowly.

"You're really quite lovely. Its a shame you hsd to taint my sons consciousness."

"Y-your son? Who are you?" I whispered. He leaned closer, a dark, unrecognisable face just inches from my own.

"I'm the man of your dreams, sweetheart. Now why don't you come with me so no one else has to suffer?" I tried to keep my tears at bay, tried to seem strong and unafraid. It didn't work the way I planned. The figure lifted me over his shoulder and escaped through the same window he'd broken. Where was Michael? Why hadn't he helped me? Who was this creature carrying me away likely to my demise?

"Stop thinking so much you're giving me a headache." He commanded. For some reason, I did. I cleared my head completely. He chortled. "I've still got it." And that's when I recognised the voice. Michael's father. The sandy hairwd man from his memories. He was taking me away.

Gee thanks for all zero comments on the last chapter... I could really use feedback to make the book more enjoyable to read and to write soo

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