Vanish {Book two in the Coriana Johnson series}

My very not normal life

         "Lincoln, I can't take it if you... you can't do this," Daisy was saying.

"I wouldn't have thought so, either, but here I am," he replied.

"No, you ca... you ca... you can't do this. Not like this. I can't just ... I can't just say goodbye. I- I have too much I want to say."

"Me, too. Come to think of it, I just did. I mean, I tried, and we didn't even realize it. Realize what? A moment ago. The first time I said I lo-"

"No," I whispered as the communication cut out. 

He was gone.

 I awoke, my heart racing. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to calm down, but I couldn't, at least not enough to fall back asleep. I sighed, rubbed my eyes, then sat up in my bed. I looked around my room, at all of the posters and pictures which lined the wall, until my gaze came to rest on one particular photo.

It was of Daisy and I. One day when we both had free time (which was hard to come by), Daisy took me out to lunch. We had such a fun time, like we always did when we were together.

But those days were over now. She had left, with no goodbye, nothing.  As if she didn't even care.

But it's been six months now, six months since Lincoln died and my sister left. You'd think I would be over it. 

But I'm not. I tried to stop thinking about them, but it never worked. I missed them. 

I suddenly realized that tears had begun to trickle down my cheeks, but I wiped them away. I didn't have time to be emotional, I had to be strong. I took a deep breath, got out of bed, then got changed into a tank top and yoga pants. On my way out, I grabbed my iPod hoping music would also help me get my mind off things.

I slipped through the halls towards the training room, glad not very many people were up yet. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, thinking I could take out some of my frustration on a poor, unsuspecting punching bag.

As I relentlessly hit it, I tried to clear my mind, wishing that my life didn't suck so much.

I'm eighteen now. Normal eighteen year olds complain about the difficulties of college, and having to start a normal job, but they have no idea how easy their life is compared to a certain Inhuman who is the same age.

  What would it like to be normal? I thought. I mean, I'm not even sure what normal is. What would it be like to not be an Inhuman, to not be the youngest Shield agent, and to have an actual- an actual family?

I sighed, knowing there was no point thinking about that. I wasn't normal, and I never would be. Nothing could ever change that. 

 But it's not like my life can get much worse. 

  I tried to focus on the music I was listening to, trying  to push the thoughts out of my head.

"🎶Free, come set me free

Down on my knees

I still believe you could save me from me

Come set me free

Come set me free

Inside this shell is a prison ce–🎶"

  "You really think hitting things is going to make you feel better?"

I whirled around and some dark energy shot out of my hands, but thankfully I stopped it before it hit the person standing in the doorway.

"May!" I exclaimed, dropping my hands then pausing the music. "You startled me!"