Identity

CHAPTER 8 || Change

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Identity

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Why am I being so protective of myself?

Why don't I just admit I like him?

Every time I see his caramel eyes in the hallway or his raven hair in my classroom I always feel much better. I never worry about anything, I always just feel happy.

It wouldn't be that big of a risk if I dated him... right?

I sat in my bed thinking about everything he's done for me and I've done for him.

It's been a week since we've first met now. I can tell that I love him. That's why I've felt so hurt whenever I said that I don't want to be with him.

So why don't I admit it?

I sighed in my bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Serena!" I heard Mom shout from below. "Serena! Sweetie, come down here! I need you now! It's urgent!"

"Okay, Mom!" I yelled back.

I dashed downstairs to see only Mom.

"What's up?"

"You might've realized Dad hasn't been at the house that much recently. It's because he's been at the ER," Mom explained.

"Huh? What? Why?" I asked.

"He got shot at work," Mom explained, holding back tears. "Straight in the stomach, there's a good chance he won't survive."

"What? No!" I cried. "There's... there's no way that's possible!"

I collapsed into tears and hugged Mom with closed eyes. She hugged me back, and she started crying too.

We sat there for a few minutes. It felt like hours. Actually, it didn't feel like anything. The whole world stopped right when she told me Dad wouldn't survive. How... how could I live with myself without him? He was always the joyful spirit of the family, but now he's... gone? I tried speaking, but no words emerged from my mouth. All that was left of me was tears.

I sprinted out of Mom's arms and dashed upstairs to my room, still crying. I couldn't deal with this anymore. She's lying! She has to be lying. But the evidence is there, and it sucks.

This was so out of nowhere, I would've never thought anything was wrong with Dad. I wouldn't even think that he was sick! But now he has a bullet wound? He didn't sign up for this!

I cried some more until my pillow was as wet as when I'm done taking a shower. Really wet. I sighed, and once again looked up at the ceiling. Why has there been so much shit this year?

Devastated, I brought out the photo book I was looking at a week ago. I turned the page until I found the picture of dad. I cried over the page, realizing that might be the only way I can remember him when I'm older.

I took a deep breath. I had to stop crying. I wouldn't be strong enough if I didn't.

I have to stop crying, Serena, stop it.

Why was he almost gone? What would I say when it's the final goodbye? What do I do? Why was I even informed? If I wasn't, then I wouldn't have to worry about what I'm going to say.

Who shot Dad? Whoever did, I hate them. Whoever shot him... I'm going to kill them too. Whoever shot him I'm going to...

When I got angry, I felt an energy in my palm radiating. I looked at it and realized they made an aura sphere.

"Ah! What is this?!" I yelled.

I accidentally sent the aura sphere right to my photo book. Once the aura sphere made contact, all the pages fell out of the weak spine and fell all over my room, scattered.

"Well, I guess that's not going to be how I remember Dad," I sighed.

I picked up all of the pages, each one holding its own memory. Once I was done, I saw a new photo, somehow created.

It was somebody I didn't recognize. He had massively long orange hair that spiked upwards. He wore a gray lab coat type of thing. He looked like an adult - 30s or 40s. I looked at his wrist. He wore a technological bracelet with a ton of buttons on it. I noticed the keystone sitting in the middle.

"Who are you?" I mumbled. "And why are you here? Wait, I asked who the killer was, right? Is this what my aura sphere's done?"

I immediately tore apart the picture. I didn't want to deal with anymore chaos right now. I didn't want to deal with it. Maybe Dad was shot because he had the aura sphere power like I do. Maybe that's why.

I cried some more. I guess I was playing the, "How much water can your pillow soak up" game. I was done with this. I was done.