How to love

Nikki's P.O.V

I had always had problems growing up. My family didn't like me that much, they kind of thought that I was a shut in like Boo Radly from 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. I didn't feel like a shut in. I just didn't like to be around people. Unnatural things happen. Things that wouldn't usually happen if I was normal like the other kids.

When I got mad or upset things happen. Things would move across the room, a window would break, a person would feel great pain, or whatever else. I wasn't trying to hurt those people, it just happened.

My name is Nikki. No one liked my name, but I do. I gave it to myself. In my family you weren't allowed to name your children. It was all about freedom. Our parents weren't allowed to tell us to do something, they weren't allowed to give us chores, and they couldn't ground us either. Our lives were full of bliss.

I have one brother. The only one that truly loves me. The only one that would accept me for what I was. Maybe because he was the same way. He could do weird things to. These things weren't weird to us, but to someone else it would be. My brother could read people's minds, he could make them feel happy or sad or even calm, he could also move things with a simple thought like I could, although he could control his, mine was caused by my emotions.

We went to school, but we were outcasts. No one accepted us, but we had each other. We tried our best to conceal what we are. We didn't even know what we were suppose to be called. It was like a sin to know what we are. Our parents wouldn't tell us what we are, but they couldn't because they weren't even like us. They didn't have anything happen to them. They were just like the other kids at school, they couldn't do anything like me and my brother could.

My brother was smaller than me even though we were twins. He had sleek black hair. His face was clean from acne and his eyes were grey. You usually don't see any kids like that anywhere. His name is Max. At least that's the name he gave himself. He usually wore a white t-shirt with a pair of blue jeans. His style of clothing was laid back and different from mine. Although, he didn't care what other people thought of his clothes, even though he could hear all their insults in their minds, like it was being whispered to him.

I'm very different from my brother. We aren't even remotely the same like you think twins would be. My hair was a dirty blonde, some people said I was almost brunette. My eyes were the same as my brothers, they were grey, although mine changed. It seemed like my eyes changed everyday like the weather did. It was like if it was a sunny day outside my eyes would be blue, but if it was dark and gloomy outside my eyes would go grey. My style of clothing was different. I usually wear this black skirt with a pair of black leggings underneath and then my shirt was usually blue or black, but I had these boots, their my favorite shoes in the world because their cowgirl boots. They're the only present I got when I turned ten.

I wasn't only able to move things with my emotions or do those other things I mentioned earlier, but I could also hear just about anything. If you were a hundred feet away from me and you were trying to whisper something to a friend that you didn't want anyone else to hear, I could hear you. I could also feel when something bad was about to happen. I'd start to feel sick and sometimes I would even go and have to throw-up. This is why my brother was always with me. We had to special arrange it to where that we had every class together and we weren't ever apart. We even shared a room.

My brother and I hardly ever fought. We were to close to each other to fall for such childish things. We knew our lives depended on one another. I remember when my brother and I got in to a big argument because he found out that the boys on the football team had dragged me to the boys restroom and kept dunking my head in the toilet while they flushed it.

Flashback:
I was sitting in the boys bathroom after they had left. The bell had rung showing the end of the school day. I sat in the stall where it happened. Those boys had dragged me to the bathroom and repeatedly flushed my head in the toilet because I had called them stupid.

I was crying. I hated being picked on. It had been this way since I started going to school. Every school was the same. Every time, I was picked on because they noticed that I was different from all the other kids. I hated having this happen. I had already tried acting like a normal kid, but still I was picked on.

Max was probably searching for me. We were suppose to go everywhere together, but I had told him that I would be fine going to the bathroom by myself. He gave me a look that said if I didn't come back in thirty minutes, he'd come looking for me.

I wish I would've let him come with me. I cried there in the stall till I heard the door open.

"Nikki, are you in here?"

"Max? Is that you?" I unlocked the door and looked to see if it was him.

"Lord Nikki, what did they do to you?"

I ran to him and hugged him tightly. I didn't want my brother to ever leave my side.

"Nikki what did they do?" He repeated.

I simply looked at him and my face said it all. He hugged me tightly.

"Why didn't you yell for help?"

"It wasn't a big deal. It's just a little water."

"Toilet water Nikki, you shouldn't let them pick on you. I'm going to go give them a piece of my mind. I hate when your picked on, you know that."

"No Max, please don't, look I'm ok. I'm still breathing, they didn't make me drown in it at least."

"But they could have Nikki! That's my point. They could've killed you if they wanted to."

"But they didn't Max. Just please leave it be. I'm ok."

He looked at my face. "You've been in here crying haven't you?"

I looked away from him. I didn't want him to see the tear stains down my face. I hated it when I cried.

"Nikki come on, let's go home." He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the bathroom.

I followed him quietly. He may have been a little older than me because he was the first one out, but we still acted like we were the same.

I loved my brother. He is the only one I truly love. He loves me. We have a relationship that no one in our family has.

"Nikki?"

"Yeah?"

"That is all they did to you right?"

"Yeah. They didn't do anything else."

"Good."

I smiled to him. He really truly cared about me. I have had other guys try to be nice to me, like some of the band kids or maybe some of the track team. I did both. I was the fastest kid on the team and I was first chair of the trumpet section. I had it ok.

Present time:
That was a long time ago. My brother never forgave those kids. He almost went to their houses and actually gave him a piece of his mind (which is never good). I had to stop him when he was walking out the door.

My brother and I have this connection. Neither of us really know how to explain it, but were able to have conversations in our minds. We would sometimes just lay in our beds and have a conversation in our minds for hours just talking about anything. He often times talked like we weren't from this family. That's the thing about my brother, he has a photographic memory, he even remembers when he was born.

'Nikki?'

'Yeah Max?'

'Do you want to get out of here?'

I sat up in my bed across from him. He was staring at the ceiling. 'When could we leave?'