From Dusk to Dawn

A path chosen

Angela stared at the flame as it casted a shadow on the walls of the attic. That single source of light was something she had once feared but have grown to love over the years. At first, the flame only came with emotions but eventually she learned to summon it at will. How remarkable she thought, that she was able to create something so extraordinary where there was nothing. While sitting near her bed, she focused only on the flame that danced on the palm of her hand. As far back she could remember, the ability to produce fire had always belonged to her, it was simply a part of her and she loved it. However, things had not always been that way. There was a time when her hatred for her abilities could only be matched by the hatred someone else felt for her, someone who was supposed to love her and accept her no matter what.

As she closed her hands the flame was no more. She changed the direction of her gaze and peered through the window on her left and thought back to her childhood. How different everything had been. So much so that it didn’t feel like that life had belonged to her but instead something she saw in a movie or read in a book. Back then she always assumed that was it for her. Her life was set as it was and there was no changing it. Then came the day that changed everything. The day that her life went from being filled with self-loathing and fear to the freedom she always craved for.

Angela was no older than eight years at the time. As usual, her father came tripping through the door way drunk. All laughter died away when Angela and her mother saw him. He paused when he saw them looking at him. His face twisted in disgust. “What are you looking at freak?” he asked Angela. They both bowed their heads and continued eating their dinner in silence. From the moment her father found out about her abilities, this had been her world. Looks of hatred, harsh words and scars on her body. Her mother loved her more than life itself of course and tried her best to remind her of her worth. But it was impossible to believe that when she had wounds to prove differently. They were countless nights she would lie awake, arms clutched around herself while soft sobs continuously escaped her lips.

Her father slowly made his way over to the refrigerator and begun rummaging around. The clinging of the items in the fridge was the only sound that could be heard. Outside, the fading light of the sleepy sun was seen through the kitchen window. “Where is all the beer?” he asked. To this Angela’s heart begun pounding against her chest as if trying escape.

“I didn’t buy any. There was no money left we bought things for dinner.” Her mother replied. Angela always admired the way her mother spoke to her father, as if trying to show him she feared no one, not even him. But other times, like that instants, she wanted to scream at her mother for them to run away as far as they could and as fast as they could.

Her father became in rage by this. “Well then next time you buy my bloody beer. I am not spending any of food to feed that.” He said referring to Angela. She shrank where she sat.  Please don’t fight, she wailed over and over again in her head.

Her mother rose to her feet, “First of all it is not your money. Secondly, I will not buy your beer with my money and leave MY daughter to starve.” Whether it was her raised voice, her refusal to follow his orders or her reference to Angela, her father grabbed the plate of food in front of her and threw it against the wall.

With his face twisted up in fury and his veins throbbing through neck, he balled up his fist and brought it crashing against her mom’s stomach. Her mom screamed out on pain as she folded over, tears gushing down her face. “Mom!” she shouted out. In that instant, she felt a kind of rage forming in the pit of her stomach and quickly spreading through her body. The heat on her body rapidly increased and in that moment that only thing she cared about was protecting her mother.

Her father grabbed her mother by her hair and raised her head so she could look at him while he continued to bark at her. Once again, he raised his arm and was about to attack her face when his arm caught fire which prompted him to release her. Time seemed too speed up after that. Her mom immediately ran to Angela and protectively wrapped her arms around her.