Emma was sitting on the barstool. Michael was in front of her, fixing up a warm drink of Hot Chocolate. Emma felt like he was overstaying her welcome. She figured that she would only be here for a couple of weeks until she felt secure with what was happening to her, but Michael has been so kind to her that she was pondering the thought of staying permanently.
"You know, Emma," started Michael, "You're your own person. You're the only one who can take these abilities and know what to do with them." He set the hot drink in front of her.
Emma stared at the drink, deciding she'd let it cool first. She looked up at Michael. "It's more complicated than that," she said.
He gave her a smile that told her he knew she was right. "I understand that. What would I know? The most magical thing I can do is flip a coin and hope it lands on tails," he grinned.
"You think it's magical?" Emma asked him, "It is far from that. It's more of a curse, actually."
"You could call it that," he said, "Or you could call it gift. You could do many things with these talents, Emma." he said. Emma shook her head. "These abilities are your own, Emma. Make them your own. It's hard, I know, but when they spiral out of control, you don't let it overwhelm you or overtake you. They are who you are now and you control them. These abilities don't get to control you, you control them. Do what you want with them. Be them. You are stronger than anything or anyone on this planet. These abilities are yours, they've become your story and you're the writer. Write with them."
Emma's eyes slowly opened. She was so exhausted still. She shifted onto her side and realized Ethan wasn't with her. She looked around before letting her cheek touch the floor again. She then realized it wasn't pouring rain anymore. It was sunny, most likely what the weather was supposed to look like if she hadn't lost control.
Emma didn't know how she'd been sleeping, but she didn't care; All she knew was that it felt good to be able to have a good, full sleep. She realized Ethan's jacket was on her and she shrugged it off, coming to a seated position. As she did so another board was ripping from the wall and came flying through mid air.
Emma was peeved; this was not going to continue. She was tired of looking at objects flying without her control, or people dying because she'd looked at them, or even the rain on a constant downpour because she couldn't stop it. She reminisced her talk with Michael long ago, she'd been dreaming about it for some reason. His words were echoing in her mind. These abilities are yours, they've become your story and you're the writer. Write with them. Not only had he said that but he always told her to 'be' her abilities.
"This is your mess, take control," Emma grumbled to herself. She didn't care that her limbs felt stiff and numb or that her finger tips were tingling or even the fact that her body felt like it was on fire.
With those last thoughts, Emma narrowed her eyes. She lifted a finger towards the objects that had decided to surge through the air and they froze. Emma could feel the quivering of her veins; she wasn't quite better yet but she wasn't going to let these abilities control her. She was going to be her abilities. They weren't going to write her story for her, she was the writer. She holds the pen. The lifted objects drop to the floor.
Emma hears the small patter of rain and realizes that the sun had gone. She glances up towards the sky and the rain quits, too. She had control now.
Or so she thought.
Suddenly, she began to tremble and shake. She was trying hard to fight against it but sooner or later that rain started to fall heavily again and the objects rose from the ground and swung around the barn. "I can't control this," she whispered to herself, even her voice quaking.
