Fragmented Grace

Fragmented Grace~ Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Arielle Wright

 

This time I woke to warm sunlight traveling into the room and dancing across the surfaces it landed on. It was morning, and while I may have preferred to use the afternoon of the previous day for something slightly more productive than sleeping, I felt rejuvenated. I felt like I could take that test no matter how scared I was.

 

How would they react when they found out, though? Mr. Crimson had told me back while I’d still been home that people might be more afraid of my abilities than I was. Apparently even in this world, where there were people who could shift into terrifying shapes or light objects on fire with the bat of their eyelashes, it was still uncommon for someone to be able to interact . . . with the dead.

 

It wasn’t something I actively participated in. In fact, I often tried to do the opposite and block myself out from those that wanted to speak with me from the other side. It left me with mind-splitting headaches at times, but I never gave in. Sometimes they wandered into my dreams though and that wasn’t something I could help.

 

Still, Mr. Crimson had claimed that with the correct training I could block off all forms of contact with them. He also had said that I could become the most fearsome being out there. I tried to ignore that part. It wasn’t anything I ever wanted.

 

A yawn prodded my lips open as I reached my arms out into a long stretch and sat straight up. I took a glance across the room to see that Hades was gone--but the bathroom door was closed and I distantly heard water running. He must've been taking a shower.

 

Good idea, I thought to myself and reached for my brush.

 

After I was finished picking the knots out of my hair, I reached for my bag and laid it across my lap. First I retrieved my shower materials, consisting of a towel and the necessary soaps, and placed them at the farthest side of the bed. When Hades was without of the shower it would be better to have them ready.

 

Next I grabbed my outfit for the day, my uniform. It was still in the unopened box I’d received from the woman who had helped me with my schedule and such, and I ripped it open without much thought.

 

The uniform wasn’t too bad, I supposed. There was a pleated black skirt, a fitted white button-up, a black tie, and a red formal blazer with the academy’s emblem embroidered on the front. There were also a pair of black knee high socks and a pair of black ballet flats. And, because I’d sent them my measurements three weeks prior, they looked like they’d all fit perfectly.

 

I placed all the new clothes in a neat pile beside my shower materials, and began fishing out the rest of my toiletries out of my bag. There was a small bed-side table beside me, and I stacked them on it. Then I unpacked what little amounts of clothing I had brought with me, barely a week’s worth, and placed them in the dresser closest to my bed. What I had didn’t so much as fill up a single drawer, but I distributed them to different spots to organize it a bit better in case I did end up accumulating more clothing.

 

The only object left in my bag at that point was my journal, and I finally understood how little I had brought with me from home. I missed it minimally, but knowing that I would never be able to go back now made the pain of homesickness that much worse. I wanted to smell the sweet aroma of my mother’s cooking, and feel the strong hold of my father’s arms around me again. I wanted it more than i could imagine.