Entwined Worlds

Chapter One: Avia

(Avia's point of view)

I have never known my real mother. My father left me on the doorstep of a rough neighbourhood just as an infant. But the thing is; I am not your average girl. I am magic.

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‘Avia, Avia! Wake up! You’re late for school, get a move on!’ a voice calls from downstairs. Oh, great, another day at school. I force myself up and yawn, taking in the blinding sunlight. I rub my eyes and I feel sweat on my forehead. That’s right; I had the dream again. The dream that I hate for bringing back terrible memories that I want so badly to forget but I love because it’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s my beautiful nightmare:

I’m with my parents in lavish house. My father has a white beard and is very jolly and kind. My mother is very graceful and wears the most stunning of clothes. We hug and my mother kisses me on the cheek. I have a massive smile on my face, which I cannot remove. We banquet on food rich with flavour. A starter of tomato soup sprinkled with fresh herbs. The main course is roast beef, potatoes and parsnips, boiled carrots and broccoli splashed with gravy. Chocolate tart topped with whipped cream and vanilla ice cream for pudding. Our evening finishes abruptly when my parents leave. Just before they go, my father hands me a small golden key and says:

‘Avia, keep this safe, no matter what. It’ll keep you safe from danger from all around you and it will remind you of us. We have to go now. We love you and we will always come back for you. Always.’ Then everything fades to black.

The shouting from the neighbours brings me back into the room. Oh, yeah, I’m going to school. That’s a thing, I think sarcastically.

‘What are you doing up there? Hurry up!’ she calls. I quickly pull on some tattered jeans and a donated T-Shirt that don’t really match. Who cares, right? I charge down the staircase, while trying not trip down the uneven stairs, and speed into the kitchen.

‘You look terrible, m’dear. What is the matter? Here, have some toast,’ my foster parent says. She shoves an overcooked piece of toast in my mouth and trots off. I spot a splodge of mould crawling up the bread. Yuck. I check the sell-by date: May 28. What day is it today? Oh, yes, it’s June 6th. Just then, I see the dreaded school bus pull up by our house. My worst nightmare. I throw my school bag onto my back, pick up a small golden key and shove it into my pocket. Just for luck, I think. I take a deep breath in, like always and walk out of the run-down house. Ah, and so the hell of school begins once again.

The short drive to school goes on infinitely. I’m constantly getting death threats from the monster behind me.

‘Hey, Avia! Avia! Do you wanna go to the dance with me? C’mon, I know you want to! Please, please!’ he jokes. I shake my head and whisper ‘no’.

‘I have a gun, you know! I have a gun! I’ll kill you, loser, if you don’t come! I’ll murder you!’ Not before I kill you, I think. I hear him and his friends snicker from behind. I clench my fists tight, trying desperately to block their taunts out. I can’t, though. It’s impossible.

Is it getting hot in here? And what is that dreadful burning smell? I glance down onto my now throbbing hands and I see a soot coloured vapour rising from the palm of my hand. I see a miniature flame balancing on my finger before it disappears into thin air.

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‘How ya doin’? How’s life at home with the stingy parents? Oh, wait: you don’t have parents! Anyway, who would want a child like you? You’re lucky they took you in! You are such a loser!’ she mocks, her acrid words piercing me. I’m now at school, in Maths. The nearly deaf teacher doesn’t take much notice of it though; it arises every day. I could kill that girl. Right here, at this very moment. I could. I could seriously murder Maria right now in the middle of a Maths lesson. My anger is boiling up like a kettle. A kettle with all its exits blocked. I’m a volcano about to erupt, releasing my scorching lava and choking dust.