DESCENDED

THE ABYSS

For as long as I can remember I'd never been what you would call a normal child. At birth I was abandoned on the doorstep of a church. Since then, I've moved from foster home to foster home. It's a system that always seem to fail me at every turn.

When I was two, I showed signs of being what the state of Louisiana and my foster mother at the time described as gifted.

I had the highest IQ in the world.

Or so I was told.

For a while, living with my foster mother Deborah was good. At least until Michael came into the picture. Things suddenly became not so good after that. Whenever Michael was around, Deborah suddenly became this naive schoolgirl with a crush. And she could never see him for who he really was.

But I did.

I felt his sinister presence the first time I laid eyes on him. Only, I didn't understand it. But whenever we were in a room together it was like there was also a third person in the room whose aura was so potently evil and thick. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

Michael Denehy was his name. And after only six months of dating, he asked my foster mother to marry him. I was six at the time, and I'd spent six beautiful years with Deborah. She was married when I was first adopted, but they divorced by the time I was three. Unfortunately, when Deborah and my foster father divorced, he no longer felt obligated to keep in touch with me.

Michael gave me the creeps. When he moved in it felt like a cloud of darkness moved in with him. He would stare at me and lick his lips whenever Deborah wasn't looking. And I told her about it. But he claimed he was just playing, and she believed him. I knew better, though. Something bad was going to happen. I could sense it.

After Deborah and Michael got married, I listened to everyone swoon over how much of a good man they thought he was. And it made my stomach turn. I wanted to throw up all over his nice oxford shoes.

Deborah said Michael inspired her to go back to school. Only, that meant she had to leave me at home alone with him. Which didn't sit well with me. I was scared.

The first month wasn't so bad. He took me to school, fed me, and he didn't give me that creepy feeling. The second month, however, was.

On my way home from school, he placed his hand on my leg as we were driving home. And I tried to ignore it. But the closer we got to home the higher his hand seemed to go up my leg. When I moved his hand, he yelled at me. Startling me. Moments later his hand was back on my leg, and I was afraid to even breathe. He didn't take his hand away until I started to cry.

When we made it home, I hurried to my room and locked the door. Afraid of what he might do. And it didn't take long for him to come knocking on my bedroom door. Claiming it was time to take a bath. But it was the middle of the day, and he never gave me my baths... Deborah did that.

I refused to open the door because I knew everything was wrong at that moment. But that didn't hold him off. He kicked the door down and rushed in. Tackling me to the floor.

He tugged at the new hot pink sundress Deborah bought me for my birthday and I rolled over onto my back to fight him off.

That was the very first time I saw it.

The red abyss that covered the walls outside my room. Slithering down the hall and into my bedroom. It slid across the ceiling until it hovered over us like spilled paint. And I couldn't take my eyes off it.

It wasn't until Michael struck me in the face that I even remembered he was there. He was holding me down with one hand while the other ripped and tugged at the hot pink spandex pants I had on. And even then, I couldn't take my eyes away from it.

It lowered itself from the ceiling like a single drop of blood. Emanating slowly at first. But then it formed into what looked like a hand that gripped Michael by the head pulling him into the sea of red on the ceiling.

And as I stared up in astonishment, I could hear his bloodcurdling screams for help.

Suddenly, and just as quickly as he was taken away, his body drops from the ceiling onto the floor. It looked like he'd been mauled by a bear, and he was covered in blood.

Horrified, I let out a blood-curdling scream and ran to hide underneath my bed. Hours passed before someone finally showed up at the house.

A police officer.

Apparently, one of our neighbors heard me screaming and called the police. They broke down the front door and made their way through the house to my bedroom, where they found the gruesome sight of Michael's mangled body.

Even though I knew who they were, I was afraid the blood would get me. The policemen called my name several times, but it wasn't until I could see the blood was gone that I finally answered.

I was taken into police custody until Deborah could be contacted. And a nice female police officer took my statement.

I expected Deborah to show up and take me home, but that never happened. She blamed me for Michael's death. And since I was the only other person in the room, everyone treated me like I'd done those terrible things to Michael.

I ended up back in foster care soon after. Where I stayed until I was almost sixteen. And over that ten-year period, I learned that I could do things... powerful things.

When I was fourteen, I decided to share my secret with my best friend at the time. We were out in the middle of the bayou, when I placed one hand over the other, palm over palm. I spread them apart and a flame appeared in between them.

Emily's jaw practically hit the ground when she saw what I could do. She thought it was awesome. And she was like a sister to me. The sister I never had.

I closed my palms and the flame disappeared. But Emily asked me to show her more, so I did. I focused my eyes on the leaves surrounding us and lifted them into the air. Making them twirl around us like a cyclone.

Emily's laughs and for once I didn't feel like a freak. I'd finally found someone I could share my secret with. Someone who would never leave me.

Or so I thought.

She closed her eyes as the beautiful red, yellow, orange, and brown leaves swirled around us. And when she opened them, she lifted her arms up into the sky. Twirling in circles herself.

That's when I saw it... that same red abyss. Only, Emily was so enamored by what I was able to do that she didn't see it. It slid across the ground toward her, and I called out to her, but she couldn't hear me. The whirring of the wind and leaves had rendered her deaf to my warning.

The blood settled at her feet, and then it happened. It looked like she'd been sucked into the ground. And her blood-curdling screams pierced the air.

I ran to where she disappeared and pounded the blood until it spit Emily back out. That's when I heard her voice.

She called out to me.

And unlike Michael... she was still alive.

I pulled her away from the blood. Or at least I think that's what it is. It smelled like blood, it looked like blood, and it was warm to the touch.

Grabbing Emily, I held her in my arms. Then I tried dragging her to safety, but she would cry out in pain whenever I grabbed her shoulders and pulled. Having no other choice, I left her there briefly and flagged someone down on the nearest road. And when we got back to Emily there were thousands of birds flying over her in the sky.

As soon as I looked up, they all fell to the ground around us. Thudding loudly against the ground.

Dodging the birds as they fell, a Good Samaritan helped me carry Emily back to his car. Then we rushed her to the hospital.

I was happy Emily lived. But when questioned by police about what happened, she lied to them. She told them Iattacked her. And when I told the police what really happened, they didn't believe me. I was then charged with attempted murder and locked away in a mental institution.