"NO! I WONT GO! I WONT!" Yelled Azalya.
"Sandra, make her go." My mom said in a very annoyed voice.
"She'll get mad at me." Was all I responded.
"People who get mad at you aren't worth your time."
I looked up. That was the first time she repeated one of my quotes I said. She must actually care.
But as soon as she saw the astonishment in my eyes, hers grew cold again.
"Just take her. She has to be interviewed. Or are you too weak?" She was taunting me, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to flash my eyes at her and watch her beg for mercy.
My mercy.
I just tried again. "Azalya...if I could take your place I would.....and I will....but....please....just for a little....enjoy being loved. It won't last. I know it won't. I saw it one day when my eyes were brown."
My mom mumbled, "I wish I had a normal daughter."
I felt a flash in my eyes so I closed them, and took a deep breath, drugging myself more by the second.
"AZALYA!!!" The people screamed outside, banging on my window.
Their blue and green eyes were filled with vigor. They truly believed they loved her.
But love is an illusion. I know you're trying so hard to convince yourself I'm insane, not real, and that all I speak are lies and insanity, and that's okay.
I wish I could do that.
But sadly, I know the world too much.
Listen to me as I tell you,
Love. Is. An. Illusion.
The most amazing, wonderful, yet also deadly illusion there is.
But still an illusion.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Azalya yelled, running inside. I didn't even realize she had gone out.
"There was a man outside who tried to kill me with a GUN! Sandra, help!!!"
"Guns don't kill people." I told her, looking her dead in her brown eyes.
"PEOPLE kill people. Out of jealousy, usually. There's nothing I can do....now let's go."
She looked at my mom, terrified, who answered,
"Azalya, just ignore her. I do it all the time. If only she'd find other friends HER age, she'd leave you alone. But she talks too much in code, about power and eyes."
Azalya nodded fast.
"My eyes are brown. Everyone seems to make a big deal about it. The only reason the tears work when I drink them is because of my eyes. But that doesn't mean I'm POWERFUL, does it? And i'm not weak just because I'm left handed, am I?"
My mom grunted, hating to admit I was right.
"No....you're powerful. And weak. But, like normal people, you don't notice. You look over the fact. If only Sandra could do that."
If only I could.
If only I would.
I did.
And she regretted saying that.
