Our Powerful Family

Drowning In Sorrow

Kelsey’s POV: 

I was watching them both break. It hurt me. I hate seeing people in pain. Leo and Eva are two amazing friends and I love them dearly. I was bawling when I heard a voice. A familiar voice. “Mon Oisillon (My little birdie),” Markus called me. I flinched, then hesitantly turned to look at him. He was tangled in vines near me. 

“Markus,” I half sobbed his name. He had left this morning but I couldn’t stay mad at him. God, he’s really handsome. And really gentle with me. I never knew why. I wish I did. Looking at him now, he looks determined. But to do what? I looked into his eyes. It was faint... but did I see a promise there? A promise for what? 

He looks desperate to get to me. But no, he can’t move. I feel lonely. I want to be hugged. Not by Markus. But by my other friends. The ones who don’t leave me. But he never left me. He always came back. Always. I wasn’t alone.

Suddenly I couldn’t see him. My eyes widened and I searched frantically. The vines were gone too and I chirped sadly at the lack of my view for Markus. It’s a habit of mine. I’m a kestrel, sometimes I tend to forget myself when I’m in human form. Before I could question further on what was going on, it was suddenly bright. The sun warmed my skin and I felt happy. 

But then I looked around and realized where I was. A schoolyard. Mine. When I was younger. I’m only sixteen now, but before I met Mercy and the others, I did have a life. The only problem was, I didn’t have a good life. I hated my life. 

The school yard was full of kids running and laughing. There was a huge area of grass that they often ran around during the races I always longed to be a part of. The metal chains of the swings creaked and I winced, I always hated that sound. The school wasn’t as big as some I had seen. It was meant for one class room for each of the five grades, a small gym, and a music room. 

I spotted myself and walked up to her. She was only ten but still looked like me. Young me was sitting in the corner of the playground, knees to her chest. I felt pity for the girl even though it was still just me. She looks so alone.

All the other kids are avoiding me, and if they do acknowledge me, it’s to laugh. Laugh about the cut on my arm. I remember. “I had fallen and gotten hurt bad that day... broken arm, scraped up bad.” I muttered, sad as tears formed in my eyes. No friends. No one cared. That day... I remember going home... the scene changed right when I thought that. The image of my crying self rippling into another image I had wanted to forget.

I see myself walking slowly up the steps to my run down old house. It was small and could barely fit my family of six. A mom and five children. I was the youngest. But that didn’t mean they had to love me. In fact, as I walked up the steps, blood dripping onto the cement, no one cared.

Inside, little me is getting blood everywhere. But she doesn’t mean to! I want to scream that but I know it’s a memory and I can’t do anything about it. I want to look away because I remember what happens next. I hope it doesn’t show me. But of course, I see my mother march up to little me. Why don’t I fight back? Am I really that weak?

I know I’m crying. And it’s not pretty. It’s the kind of screaming in agony sobs that drain you of energy fast. I feel the hits as they come. But I’m slowly going numb. Little me is on the floor, arm in horrible shape... and our mother beating her with a belt. I cry out and fall to my knees. Why hadn’t mom helped? She knew my arm was broken. But she was more mad that I got blood on the carpet. 

I look down at my hands to try and force myself to forget. Tears are falling so fast I have no chance of stopping them. But my hands... they are flickering. Invisible, then not. Unseen, then seen. My past... my mother, my brothers, they are there reason for my power. When I gained my amulet, I became invisible because I thought no one would hurt me if they couldn’t see where they were supposed to hit. 

I’m always so happy around my new family because I think they will hate me. Hurt me. Leave me if I’m sad. But Markus... he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t get that every time he leaves, even for a few hours, I want to cry because I think he might not come back. I can hear the screams of little me before suddenly she falls silent. I let pain, despair, and sadness grip me. I let it pull me beneath the surface of the water. Drag me down, down, down, until I’m drowning in my sorrows.