Locks and Keys

Chapter 2- Paix

Chapter 1

Paix

I cried out in pain as the man's fist collided with my already-bruised face.

"Quit whining, ungrateful child," he spat, hitting me again. I mentally cursed the fact that I couldn't use my powers on myself. If I could, Isaiah and I would never have gotten hurt. It's my fault that we're in this mess.

Tears welled up in my eyes as he continued to hit and kick me.

Where was Mom when we needed her?

It wasn't just me I was thinking about; it was Isaiah, too.

I always made sure he didn't get hurt. Could I always save him? No. But by telling him where to hide, I minimized the amount of bruises on his nine-year-old body by at least forty-three percent.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the man's fist came in for one final blow...

.

.

.

I woke up and looked around, not quite knowing where I was.

"Mom?" I called, softly and timidly, before mentally slapping myself in the face.

She wouldn't be able to hear me.

She was out looking for a job.

I swore quietly. Jeez, Paix, calm down. Get it together, I told myself, gently fingering the necklace I've had for as long as I can remember. I've never taken it off. Ever.

It's a owl with green gems for eyes. Since my name means "Peace" in French, it makes sense, 'cause owls are, like, legit peaceful and stuff.

Stretching and yawning, I got out of bed and pulled on my outfit for the day: a black shirt with a wolf on the front and dark green jeans.

I dragged myself downstairs and out the door, walking down the street. I selected a song on my phone and put my earbuds in my ears, singing along inaudibly until one part of the song.

"So, he calls me up, and he's like, 'I still love you.' And I'm like, 'This is exhausting, you know? We are never getting back together. Like, ever,'" I said aloud. People looked at me strangely, but I just ignored them and kept walking.

I saw two people -- a couple, maybe -- arguing, and I made the peace symbol with my fingers, blowing on my fingers while looking in the direction of the couple. They immediately stopped fighting and proceeded to try to suck each other's faces off.

I really wish I could unsee that...

I subconsciously made my way to a park bench and sat down, closing my eyes and remembering the past few days.

Man, it had been hectic lately. My mom decided that she, my younger brother, and I needed to move after she found out what my father did when Mom wasn't home. She wasn't home very often because of her job. She had lots of business trips.

He would hit us -- both me and my brother -- and then make us tell Mom that we fell down the stairs.

He spent every last cent that he earned -- I don't even want to know what he did -- on himself for food, drugs, and alcohol, so he rarely fed us. When he did, it was only leftovers.

And Mom wondered why Isaiah and I were so skinny...

She'd actually sent us to therapy before because she was convinced that we both had an eating disorder. But that was before I finally got the courage to tell her what happened.