Phoenix- The Rising

Up from the ashes

For another four, terrible years, this continued, until bit by bit, I could feel myself drifting away. The punches, the slaps, the kicks, I became numb to it all. I became accustomed to the bruises. Used to caking on layer after layer of foundation to veil the bloody, black and blue canvas my face had become.

Until that day.

Late in the afternoon, a few hours after lunch, R.I.S.K called. Ring ring ring. Eagerly, my father leapt toward the phone.

"Hello!" He said impatiently, "This is Arson, the former Head of Studies."

The man on the other end spoke, his voice no more than a buzzing vibration to me.From the top of the stairs, my perch, I could see his face fall, let down, disappointed.

"I'll be there at 4:00." As he ended the call, he angrily called to my mother, who was in the basement at the time.

"Dawn!" He shouted, "R.I.S.K called."

I could hear my mother's footsteps thudding up the stairs. I could feel the excitement radiating off of her. She burst into the room, her face animated, something I hadn't seen in a long time.

"What is it! Do we get our job back? Do they need us?" She asked breathlessly. However, her wide grin faded into a frown when she took in my Father's blasé attitude.

"What?" She repeated.

"They want us to come clear out our junk. They're demolishing the building, making space for a blasted park." My mother's hands fell flat to her sides.

"Oh." She said, blandness creeping back.

My father sighed. "I told them we'd come at 4:00 today. We should get going."

Wordlessly she nodded, heading towards the door down the hallway.

Minutes later we were packed in the car, like sardines in a can. On the long drive to our destination, memories all came back to greet me as I stared at the rushing scenery outside our car window. Unbuckling our seatbelts, we opened the doors of our old Buick, and walked the path that was once so familiar. Now it seemed like a dream, my carefree moments, like they never really existed.

"Aerin," Mom snapped, "Go to the insulated cellar and pack the vials in this." She gave me a reinforced box, with small holes just big enough to fit all the small tubes. I opened the doors to the entrance, and let nostalgia guide me to the corridor where the cellar was located. Once inside, I immediately saw the small shelves embedded in the three walls surrounding me. They were about six feet wide, and four feet in length. Each shelf was filled with at least twenty five multicolored serums, all brimming with glistening, inconspicuous liquid. One would never know that these vials contained the answer to most people's desire. Power.

"Better get to work." I muttered.

I started with the shelf on the left. The room itself was quite large, and I walked the fifteen feet required to reach them. In the process of taking them down, I read the tags on each tiny bottle.

"Flight, Teleportation, oh! Fire."

I smiled, remembering how frantic my parents had been when I made it. They knew the whole lab could go up in flames if there was even a small slip-up.

As I walked over to the box, which in hindsight, I should have brought with me, I suddenly tripped over my untied shoelace. It was as if the world was in slow motion. The red vial, containing the fire liquid flew from my hand, and shattered all over the sterile white floor.

"Oh hell no."

As soon as the words left my mouth, the center shelf was engulfed in flames. I scrambled back, watching as the glass holding the other serums melted from the sheer intensity of the heat. All the concoctions fell to the floor, spilling their contents on the ground, like a rainbow of shimmering substance. The fire spread, until the mixtures evaporated, filling the air with their foul smelling gases. There was no vent, and the room itself was airtight. I knew that if I stayed in here any longer, I would either burn to death, or choke, as the fire swallowed up the remaining oxygen. Running to the door, I slammed my full weight upon it. It didn't budge. However, my resolve was not weakened, and I pushed and shoved and kicked with every ounce of strength I could possibly muster. The clock was ticking. My time was running out. In a last, desperate attempt to survive, I yelled and shouted, making a racket, hoping that someone, anyone, would come to my aid. No one did. I knew I was going to die, and somehow I accepted it. As I slid down the door, my rear slamming onto the cold floor, I accepted my fate.

"God take me now," I whispered. "Take me to you."

I drew in one breath of the gas filled air, and another, and another. Dizzy, I slumped to the floor, waiting for the fire to incinerate me whole.

Then something happened. Something strange.

I saw the fire wrap around me. I saw the flames lick the edges of my shirt, my hair. Why couldn't I feel the pain? Why did I feel....Stronger? Tentatively, I stood. My flesh wasn't burning, and I felt fine. As I inhaled, my ragged breath drawing in more powerful air, I felt a tingling. It started at the bottom of my feet, then spread to my fingertips, my nose, until my body was wracked with a strange feeling. Then, I burst into flames. A single thought extinguished the flames permanently, me being left dumbfounded by my new discovery. Levitating on wings I didn't have, I realized I could not only control fire, but fly. Like a Phoenix I rose again, from the ashes of my former self. I was reborn. I had beat the odds, and survived, though it was all still a mystery. Power coursed through my veins, and I realized I, was now a superhuman. I could make a difference in this world. It clicked. I could fight for children abused by their superiors. Although I had a good childhood, some children were born into a lifestyle of abuse, powerless to defend themselves. They had no voice. I, Phoenix, could be that voice. I could be their ally, and protect them. I could ensure that nobody went through what I did. And as I heard a cry of pain in the distance, discovering my enhanced hearing, I grimaced. My first task was set.