Living in the Shadows

9) Eleanor Rigby

Ahh, Look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in a church where a wedding had been

Wails at a window,
Wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door.

Who's it for?

He watched Liza as she pranced around with bags on her arms. His sister came through for Liza and took her shopping. And for once in her life, Liza felt pretty. She chose the same clothes though. Earlier that day, he watched as she twirled in mirrors, dawning long sleeves and cargo pants of dark colors. She was so used to living in the shadows, so why stop trying now.

Maybe that's a good thing he said to himself over and over again as the day grew longer. Maybe after a year of a cloudy conscious, he could finally kill the girl who ruined his life. Only for the purpose of a clear mind. He blamed her. He blamed her for his family shunning him. He blamed her for the fact that he was no longer a hero.

It wasn't her fault of course, it was just because he didn't want to blame himself.

And yet here she was, waltzing into his house because he told her it was a safe haven. He jumped down from his perch, landing in front of two startled women.

"Leave." He said sharply to Becca, using as much authority as he could. She dropped her own bags right there and marched away, here heels clicking in the distance. Lucas watched her, a memory appearing in the back of his mind.

"I would like to thank you for the wonderful day Raven," Liza spoke quietly. He turned to look at her, glaring at her from under the mask.

"I'll be back."

He walked away leaving the girl all alone in the house too big for three people. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to blame her for everything. He wanted to blame her for his mother's death. He wanted to blames her for the accident. He wanted to blame her for his family disowning him. But he couldn't. He wanted to blame Liza for every bad thing that has ever happened in his life, but after watching her for the past year, he couldn't.

He just couldn't.

At least he knew where his mother was. At least his sister was alive. At least he didn't grow up in an abusive house. He couldn't blame her for anything because she had it worse than him. But the knowing didn't help the wanting. He wanted to blame her. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to kill her.

That's why he had to leave the house tonight. He knew that he was on the verge of releasing his full power, and if he wanted to really kill the girl, that would be the best way to do it. The cold September air nipped at his skin. A storm was coming. He could feel it in the air. This storm would be dangerous, long, and full with lightning. This storm would be purely his creation. His anger and confusion released.

He was an elemental. The last of his kind.

Air...

Water...

Fire...

Earth...

It all bent to his will. Releasing a storm this size was as piece of cake. No, a piece of pie. Just a little messier than cake.