Woven at the Soul

The Beginning of the End

"Parcee! Parcee, wake up!"

"He can't be dead, right? He doesn't look dead..."

"No, he's not. I've worked in a hospital before; I've seen dead people. Parcee isn't one of them."

I came to as the voices around me became recognizable. What had even happened? I remembered talking to that doctor- sorry. Bioengineer.

"Guys, guys! He's waking up!"

I blinked slowly, trying to clear my vision. I felt weak. That was bad. We had a planet to save; and I was temporarily immobile.

"What happened? All I remember is the car flipping and some curse words..." I muttered, still dazed.

"That's, that's pretty much what happened. Stephen here decided to drive the car into the forest." Arlene explained. We all glared at Stephen, who was suddenly fascinated by his bracelet.

Izac helped me up and we all did our best to roll the car back over. Scratch that, Zamira pushed it over with her bare hands.

To our utter surprise, it still worked.

We got back in and this time, Arlene drove. We didn't really trust Stephen with that liberty anymore.

We got back on to the road (after a few hours, might I add) and kept going.

Woop-de-fucking-do.

More driving.

I'm absolutely thrilled.

We kept driving. It seems like whenever the author doesn't know what to add to fill the gaps, they just add another 'travel scene'.

I mean what?

What author?

It's not like I'm a character in a book. This is no story; this is all real.

īT'š åŁł ręåŁ, rīGhT¿

Whoa, that was weird.

Anyways, we pulled up to a small, abandoned cottage. I recognized it.

When I was a little kid, I had a nanny. Her name was Annie and she was almost like family to me. She's got this cottage; and it looks nearly identical to this one. Sadly, she passed away a few years ago due to a surgery complication.

I knew it wasn't her's though, because her's wasn't made out of spruce wood. It was made of maple wood.

We easily broke down the door. If this was a horror movie, we'd go into the cellar, but we blocked off all the doors and stayed in the main room. This main room consisted of a kitchen, dining area, work station and a partial den. We decided not to go snooping around the house for more supplies, mainly because we didn't know who or what was in there.

"It's nearly 1 a.m.; we should sleep." Stephen yawned as he piled up some pillows. We followed his lead and created makeshift beds out of whatever was available.

It was hard to sleep that night. As time passed, it got colder; dropping a degrees a minute. I figured that body heat would be my only option.

Gross.

I shuddered at the idea. I have never been a very physical person and to make matters worse, I think I might be touch-adversed. Then again, I didn't want to freeze.

I stood up and trudged over to Izac; blanket in hand. I sat down next to him against the wall and drifted off slowly.

Then, he moved. He moved in his sleep.

I tilted my head up to try to see him better, but it was too dark. I went back to sleep and ignored it.

Then it got hot.

My eyelids slowly opened at the sight of Izac scrambling away from me; his hands engulfed in flames. The way they didn't burn anything made them seem so fake; like an illusion or something.

I stared at him in utter confusion. Why was he so scared? The flames weren't doing anything; they were harmless.

Then he started sobbing.

I could barely believe my eyes. Izac, the guy who had tried so hard to seem like a strong, emotionless, stoic guy was suddenly breaking down. And in front of me, too.

I crawled towards him slowly, trying not to freak him out. Why was this happening?

"Get away from me Parcee! My-my dad was right-they were all right, I'm dangerous! I'll get you killed-I don't wanna get you killed-!" he gasped, almost throwing himself backwards in a feeble attempt to get away from me.

"Izac." He looked up at me.

"Touch that pillow."

He grabbed it reluctantly.

"See? Your fire is harmless. You won't hurt me, okay?" I whispered, sitting up.

"Can, can I tell you something? Something you can't tell the others. I don't really trust them as much, anyways." He looked up at me, the fire dying out. I nodded, almost eager to know what he has to say.

He stood and walked back over to me, slumping against the wall, defeated.

"My parents, my dad especially, hated me. My mom said that my powers made me special. Sometimes it was a complement, sometimes it wasn't. My dad always said that they turned me into a monster. Soon, they stopped acknowledging me. They never said they had two sons, only one. I barely know my brother and he barely knows me. When I was proclaimed dead, I'm sure they felt relief. Relief from knowing that they had no more monster to worry about."

I stared at him in utter disbelief. Compared to his nightmare of a childhood, my parents' neglect seemed like heaven. They never insulted me, just ignored me.

"Izac, I-"

Then he started crying. But it wasn't a pathetic cry, it was an anger filled, resentful cry. How I wished I could take away all of that trauma.

Cautiously, I wrapped my arm around his broad-ish shoulders. I couldn't stand seeing him like this. Sure, yeah, he's a stoic guy who seems to lack empathy, but I can tell who he really is. He's someone who needs a reassuring shoulder and someone to trust. He needs someone to be the person his parents weren't.

I know I'm not exactly a perfect match, but he did say that he trusts me the most, so that's got to be worth something.

I kept my arm around him, rubbing his upper arm softly every so often. He eventually returned the gesture and awkwardly hugged me for a good five minutes.

Feeling too weird to speak to one another, Izac silently rested his heavy arm over my shoulders. I didn't want to move it, despite my body screaming at me to get out of there.

I would stand by him.

I would trust him.

He needs me, and for what I know, I need him.