An Impossible Curse

Chapter Two: A... family member

A... family member 

I wake up at six o’clock in the morning by Sarah brushing a load of snow on my head, being melted by the heat, and soaking me. I really hate my curse. 

“C’mon, get up! Mom and Dad come home today, let’s GO!” 

I groan, burying my head in my soaking wet pillow. Sarah shakes me vigorously, her freezing skin shocking me into the real world again. She runs out of the room, calling behind her, 

“They come a four o’clock, the house needs to be cleaned, we haven’t done it since they left!” 

“Sarah, they left five days ago!” I call out exasperatedly. That’s my sister. Total neat-freak. 

I slide out of bed, my bare feet touching the cold stone floor. I don’t have any sheets on my bed, because one, I don’t need them. The fire keeps me pretty darn hot. And two, they’d just burn up anyway. My entire room is like that. Plain. A desk in the corner, my bed in the other, a huge window with a window-seat overlooking the grounds, and the other door leading to my bathroom. All fire-proof. Did I mention I’m really starting to hate fire? 

I rub the sleep out of my eyes, standing up. I stretch my hands out in front of me, watching the fire swirl across my skin. It’s a funny thing, fire. It’s not really yellow or red or orange. It’s not even a solid color. Each flame is gold, with a blue base. The very tip is bright, but in the center it’s flimsy, wavering, transparent. No two fire’s are the same. 

I trudge into the bathroom, my hair still dripping from my very annoying wake-up call. I fill the bathtub with cool water, and scrub myself with the orange-scented body-wash. I have other ones too, mainly those little bottles from Bath & BodyWorks. But those are for special occasions, and  it’s not exactly special, my parents coming home. Then I wash my skin with the cleanser that makes it about three shades lighter.

I step out, immediately drying. That’s one bonus to being encased in flames. You dry instantly. 

I grab the spray bottle on the counter, and squeeze the nozzle. A cloud of mist comes out, and I cover myself, face, arms, legs, everywhere. After that, I fill a basin with water, and dump in a small amount of hair dye. I let my hair soak in it while I clip my nails. Even though I’m not exactly a favorite in this family, I still don’t want to have ragged,  bitten nails when my parents come home. They are my parents. 

After my hair is completely dyed, I do the rest. Put in the contacts. Put on mascara and lip gloss, because seriously, I look like the color is being sucked out of my. Pull on clothes. Spray myself with perfume. Twist my hair into a simple bun and brush, floss, rinse. Done. 

I look in the mirror, something I’ve hated doing ever since I was ten. With my pale skin, eyes, and hair in a bun, I look nothing like myself. Even the clothes. A simple, cream-colored t-shirt and track-pants. No jewelry. Plain, plain, plain.  

I walk downstair to find Sarah on the phone. 

“Okay... thanks... yes, I’ll make sure... Pea’s? Okay, why not... love you... bye...” she hung up, turning to face me, a worried expression on her face. “Oliver’s coming.” 

Oliver. Dread fills me at the mere sound of his name. 

Oliver is my cousin, who’s a year older than me. A diplomat-in-training, he’s one of the few people-well, really the only person- in my family who know’s about my, and Sarah’s, curse. He usually avoids us, me most of all. And for good reason. 

When we were six, Oliver had started yelling at me because I’d accidentally burned one of his many toy cars. It was nothing, a black mark really, but Oliver was yelling and screaming. He had shaggy blond hair, brown eyes, and a sharp jaw. He was very manly, but scrawny when he was a kid. We were outside, and I was on the ground crying, and he was yelling things like ‘freak’ and ‘witch’ and ‘demon’. Sarah was yelling at him to stop, and she grabbed his arm. He threw her on the ground, and that got me mad. Nobody was allowed to hurt my sister. I screamed, and my vision went red. Before I knew it, Oliver was on the ground, writhing in pain, a huge burn on his arm. I remember feeling really dizzy, and then passing out.