Heartbroken

Chapter 31: Milo

Allegra,

I had a feeling that you wouldn't listen to me. I know that I hurt you so much, but I left knowing that I couldn't do anything to take you with me. I've spent years trying to find you, but your mother made it very hard even after she passed. Please let me explain. Your mom was someone I loved dearly, but I didn't know her well enough when we married. As we got to know each other, something was off about her character. Everybody loved her, but that wasn't strange. It was the fact that they would do whatever she asked. She would look them in the eye and say something she wanted, and they would automatically offer to help. I used to think that people were just kind, but I started to reconsider once someone offered to give us their house when we were struggling financially as a new couple. As I paid closer attention, I figured that she must have had some kind of control with what she did. Every time she looked someone in the eye, her iris's flashed to a dull gold, but only for a split second. I never saw that when she looked at me.

I was scared, Allegra. I tried to confront her about it, but I don't remember that night because I got a concussion. I fear that she forced me to walk into the wall once she realized that I had found out what she could do. I don't know how long I stayed with her after that point, but when I tried to leave, I tried to take you and your sister with me. My plan was never to leave you behind. But I was almost caught, and I had no choice but to run by myself.

When I heard that your mother had died, I'm sorry to admit that my first feeling was not one of sorrow. It was relief. And even until this day I'm glad that she can't use that... power on others, whether for good or otherwise. And now my own daughter is dead and I was never there to get to know her. You have no idea how much that thought plagues me.

I know that I could write a million apologies, but I also know that I will never be forgiven. So I will write only one. I love you, Allegra. I'm sorry.

James Contessa

I stared at the paper a moment longer before folding it back into its minimized form. I threw it onto the bed, but it fluttered onto the floor after a quick change of direction. I sat with my head in my hands, my thoughts burning holes into my skull. Allegra's dad had expertly slipped this into my pocket as he brushed past, and I only just noticed it when I got home and changed my clothes.

Allegra's mom was a Gifted. That's what this had to mean, right? Who has ever heard of someone manipulating people with their eyes? The only explanation was that she was a Gifted. So if that were the case, and if my theories were correct, that would mean that one of her daughters would have a Gift. And now it's just Allegra unless there's some other forgotten sibling. I swallowed bitterly, refusing to dwell on the depressing subject.

Allegra. She punched a hole in the wall the other day. Logically thinking, extreme strength could be her Gift. It couldn't be that hard, could it? I glanced at my fist, and then to the wall. It shouldn't hurt that much. Allegra barely even flinched. I stood and walked slowly to the wall, somehow convincing myself that it was okay to try to punch a hole in your bedroom. I pulled my arm back, took a deep breath, and launched my fist at the wall. I hit one of the supporting beams. My knuckles erupted with pain, spreading up to my elbow as I sucked in through my teeth and shook my arm - as if that would help. I kept moving, trying to distract myself from shaking forearm. I could already see the bruise forming like a lonely winter flower on the back of my hand. I grimaced. That hadn't been a fair test.

But I wasn't punching the wall again.

I slid my hand across the freshly painted wall, feeling with my fingers to try and find a supporting beam behind the thin plaster. Allegra had punctured the wall just to the side of a large cerulean vase full of succulents: I just thought it was funny how she didn't punch that instead. Wouldn't it be more fun to break a vase than to punch something hard and unforgiving and hurt yourself while doing it? The walls were eleven years old, so the sheet rock wouldn't break kindly. So maybe Allegra really did have the Gift.

Or maybe she just threw the vase at the wall.

I grinned for the first time in days, trying to imagine her throwing it at a wall. George would be mad. But I was glad to find that I could find something positive, even if that positive thing was breaking a vase. To each his own.

But ever since Mercy was in the hospital, I've been up on edge. I knew something was wrong, but I never voiced my concern. I regret it now. The doctor's told us that they don't know why she died, but I'm sure they're lying. I saw them talk to my father while we were being escorted away. Something wasn't right, but I didn't say anything to Allegra because I didn't want her to worry about it. Maybe that's why my father kept it from her. But I forget that he doesn't have feelings. I haven't seen him cry once, even at the funeral. You would think that he didn't even care.

Allegra had been on a huge roller coaster ride. From the very start she punched a hole in the wall as mentioned, and in the end it still hasn't stopped. The roller coaster, not the punching. Though I've been in pain – and more than I'd like to admit – I can't imagine what Allegra felt like. The night of the viewing when she hugged me made me realize just how much she needed a friend. I tried to stay with her for as long as possible, but eventually it just got annoying. So now she knows that she can find me and I will help her no matter what. She hasn't come to me again. I would be lying if I said that it didn't hurt.

I backed away from the wall, satisfied with my search. Theoretically speaking, I could've used a machine to tell me where the beams were, but I prefer my hands. Especially when it takes my mind off of panic-inducing subjects. I wiped my fingers on my shirt, careful to avoid my scarf. I rolled up the sleeves of my sweatshirt and walked down the hall.

I passed my father's office on the way to my room, and I heard Allegra's voice through a small crack in the door.

"I need to leave."

"Where?" it was my father this time.

"I don't care. I just – I just need to get away. Let me study abroad or something. Just don't make me stay here," her voice cracked. My heartbeat sped up. She wanted to leave? My dad seemed to be thinking.

"I – when?"

"As soon as possible. I'll come back after the school year ends."

"But you're not even halfway through your school year yet,"

"I know," Allegra whispered, and I imagine her biting her lip. "Please."

"Fine." My dad sighed, defeated. "I'll let you know when I plan everything."

"Thank you."

I didn't bother to move as she came to leave his office. She startled when she saw me, and narrowed her eyes for a split second before trying to appear calm.

"You heard that?"

I ignored the question. "You can't leave, Allegra," saying her name left a small thrill on my tongue.

"Why not?" she said stubbornly.

"Because – because you can't!" flustered, my voice started to rise.

"And why is that?" her voice matched my own intensity. I growled, throwing my hands in the air and spinning in a circle.

"Because I would be lonely again." I responded after calming myself.

"You have Ingot,"

"But I want you."

She sucked in a breath, and my own were not so steady either. I reached out to grab her hand, surprising both of us. She looked down.

"At least consider staying," I begged, lowering my voice. I waited until she looked me in the eye. "Please."

She opened her mouth, and finally agreed. "Fine."

I pulled her into a hug, but somehow I already knew that I had lost.