Fated (Sequel to Timeless)

Chapter 4

I felt a little better after my walk. After Logan left, I spent the evening looking at my hair and paying attention to when it would change.

After a while, I started to notice a correlation between the changes and how I was feeling at that moment. After about an hour and a half of watching try not to laugh and rage compilations, and even some really sad animal videos, I realized I was onto something. By dinner I had a short list of colors and what emotion each one represented. I also started keeping a journal, in case I was feeling a more rare emotion and discovered a new color.

At dinner, I tried telling my mom about the whole mood-hair color thing, but for some reason, the words just wouldn't come out. I guess I kind of felt resentful due to the fact that she knew what was happening, but wouldn't tell me what was going on and why it was even going on in the first place.

I learned to keep my emotions much more under wraps, and figured out I could keep the electric green color if I controlled my emotions and didn't let them get out of hand. If I felt a particularly strong emotion, though, and didn't try to suppress it, my hair would change. I had to be especially careful around Jameson, because I knew that if I wasn't, my hair would probably turn red from anger and frustration.

It was a drizzly morning a couple of days later, and as I was sitting by my window, staring at the grey sky and the raindrops slowly trailing down the glass, I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes. I wasn't getting much sleep anymore. I was just stressed from school, life, and now my "freak mutations", as Jameson so graciously put it. I would just sit in my room and stare out of my window for hours at a time. I wasn't eating, I wasn't drinking, and I didn't want to get out of bed most mornings.

I heard a light tapping on my door. I stayed silent.

"Ean, baby? Can I come in?" my mother asked through the door.

I didn't say anything, just continued to look out the window.

I heard her sigh before coming into my room. I kept my gaze glued to the murky sky.

"Ean you-" There was a brief moment of silence. "You're numb."

I looked at her, my brow furrowing. "What?"

"Your hair's grey. Means you're numb/depressed," she said, coming and sitting beside me on my bed.

I stared at her. "You know about that?" She nodded. "How??"

She sighed and looked down. "Look, there's something I need to tell you. These traits, these changes..... They're from your father."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Your dad had a lot of similar traits." She smiled at me, cupping my face in her hand. "You remind me of him more and more every day." I noticed tears welling up in her eyes.

I looked down, my brow furrowing as thoughts swirled like a whirlwind in my head.

My dad? Mom never talked about him. My father was shrouded in mystery, and there weren't any pictures or things lying around the house that depicted him, or, as far as I was aware, belonged to him. I had never met him, but came to the conclusion that he obviously didn't care about us if he just up and left my mom when she was pregnant.

But here she was, talking about him almost longingly. It didn't make any sense.

She drew her hand away quickly, seeming to remember something, and looked down.

"Mom, why did Dad leave us?"

She looked up at me, brow furrowed and tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. "What? Leave us? No, baby. You're dad didn-"