Tethered Bonds

Chapter 1

POV Zayla (8 years old)

SLAM!

A door from the front of the house swung closed. My eyes opened wide as I lay motionless in bed. I can see the pink neon clock displaying four in the morning through my peripherals. As I lay under my plush lavender quilt, I can hear the muffled sounds of Mom and Dad arguing in the kitchen. Each time they argued, I felt knives stabbing my heart.

Listening to their angry tone, I think about the times when they were so happy - until I screwed it up seven months ago. I was unaware that seeing people's glow-lights, apparently called auras, was unique. I missed watching my parent’s auras when they were happy; their lights would dance and embrace each other. Now their glows are rigid and sharp while they are in the same room.

Had I known of my freaky ability, I would have kept my mouth shut when I saw the man at the grocery store whose glow-lights were extraordinary. His aura had three distinct colors wrapping around his entire body. Everyone has uniques colors, movements, shapes, and specks; however, this muscular man's glow was so foreign.

I asked Mom why his glow-lights were unusual when we got back home. She just looked at me strangely while trying to figure out what I was referring to. She ended up thinking I was playing a game and asked me to describe her glow-lights.

I always loved my mother’s glow-lights. My favorite part was their mellow warm hue that reminded me of the morning sun, and she had little floating orbs of emerald green jewels -- the same shade as her eyes.

After I was done describing her glow I asked her to describe mine. I was never able to see my glow-lights, even in the mirror. Mom told me I had all sorts of beautiful shades and sparkles; I squealed with joy to finally envision my glow. She then pulled out a photo of grandma and asked me what her glow-light color was. I just looked at my mommy with a confused expression plastered on my face.

-flashback-

"Mommy, you know we can't see her lights from a photo, and I never met grandma in person," I said, concerned. I started to worry that other people can see glow-lights from a photograph, while I can only see them when looking at the person physically.

Thanks to my white hair, I dislike the feeling of being different. I was bullied at my school for it. I laughed along with the jokes when it first started; I know having snow-colored hair as a kid is not normal. I had cut my hair as short as my mom would let me, hoping that it wouldn't draw as much attention. The plan backfired horribly as my loose curls became super tight and looked like the typical elderly lady that perms her hair. Classmates nicknamed me granny, but things got worse as the school year progressed. I could handle the old-age jokes, but then it turned into everyone excluding me whenever possible. No one wanted to touch me, too afraid they would age rapidly. If I got too close to a group at recess, they would throw rocks at me until I backed away. I just wanted to fit in, to feel like I belonged. Now I feared that I lacked the basic ability to see glow-lights in photographs. My worrying thoughts started to make me panic, but I kept a straight face to mother.

"Why can't you see it? I say it's a light shade of purple, ” My mom says with amusement on her face still.

"Mommy, I...I can't see glow-lights on tv, photos, or on reflections." I said, a bit flustered. She will most likely not take the news well. I can already see myself going to the doctor's office for exams; just like when she thought my hair color was due to a disease.

"Oooh, so there are rules to the glow-light game?" Mom says with some laughter.

I was stunned. A game?

"Mom, do you... do you think I'm playing a game?" I was getting frustrated; Mommy should know when I was playing around. Why was this hard for me to explain to her? My mother's face focused on my eyes as I watched her's growing wider.

"Sweetheart, do you really see a glowing light...around me?" The realization hits me in waves as I see my Mother's face getting pale. No one else sees glow-lights at all; I'm weirder than I thought. I don't need any more weird traits going into my fourth-grade year. I could feel the tears forming in my mint green eyes, thinking of what kids would do if they found out.

I pulled my thoughts back to my mother; she is just staring at me as though I'm a stranger. Tears finally roll down my cheeks as the look in mom’s eyes expressed the same sentiment as the kids at school- I am an abomination.

Before mom could say anything else, Dad walked in from getting off work. He came over after seeing us at the dinner table with our troubled expressions. I didn't want to tell him, I didn't want him to look at me the same way mom just did - but I had no choice and confess my discovery.

-end flashback-

We all stayed at the table and went over what I could see. I drew what the auras looked like to them. Mommy mostly stayed quiet while Daddy had a huge grin on his face and seemed very interested in what I could see. Dad was telling me how special my gift was, it relieved me to see him still smiling after knowing the truth.

I noticed that throughout the conversation that Mommy and Daddy's auras were slowly pulling away from each other. Their auras no longer danced together by the end of our talk. I chose not to say anything about it; I had already freaked my Mother out enough.

Their first argument started that night after I went to bed. I never really processed anything they were talking about and most of it was whispers. During the day, Mom would try to act normal around me, but day by day she felt further away. Now, when we are in the same room she will stand or sit as far as she can and stare at me with giant teary eyes. My heart aches when she looks at me that way. All I can see is fear on her face while her floating jewels vibrate and her warm glow stays motionless.

Their arguments have gotten worse night after night. It shocked me to hear my Mother say a bad word for the first time. It scarred me more when Dad boomed his cussing back at her. After that, I block them out entirely while they argue. Even if I was in the room when they started another round, I tune them out. Between my parents and classmates, I got good at ignoring people's voices.

Fourth grade started two months after I confessed to Mom. Although my hair is down to my shoulders now, the bullying that happened in third grade continued the moment I set foot in the classroom. The physical part of being bullied increased. My classmates got over the fear of aging from my touch and now pushed and shoved me daily. I did prefer it over rocks being thrown at me. Fortunately, no one at school knows about my aura seeing ability otherwise I'm sure the rock-throwing would start again. The frustrating part is that I can read their auras and know that most were doing it so they fit in with the others.

My favorite past-time at school is watching everyone's glow closely, so I can study them. I used to not look at auras to be polite. Knowing that only I see them, I observe them intensely. Dad bought me a sketchbook journal to draw people's auras and write details about them. My classmates just assume I'm drawing sci-fi stuff and ignore my doodles. The only time it got messed with was when a classmate grabbed my journal in the hallway, and I panicked and fought back for once. The kid wasn't expecting me to lash out and he threw it back at me after I punched his eye. None of my teachers have ever seen a student in the act of hurting me, but of course, a teacher walked around the corner right as I threw the punch. I ended up with detention for a week. After that, everyone knew not to mess with my journal so it was worth the detention.

Dad is my only source of positivity right now. Since Mom is scared of me, Dad is trying to make up for her distancing by shopping with me for new dresses, playing more games, and getting me a phone so I can text him. Although I'm grateful that my Dad still treats me like before, I would trade all my new stuff for my Mother to hold me again.

Their argument for the night ended. I could hear the door slam shut and heavy feet walking outside. Then, I hear the roaring engine of dad’s truck turning on and driving off. My clock now says five in the morning as I see dawn pouring into my room from the single window. I stay in my current position, still reflecting on my stupid mistake that caused all this.

I hear Mother shuffling her feet through the house, which was odd. Usually, she goes straight to the guest bedroom that she now stays in. I could detect something was different this time around; the sensation stirred something deep within my mind. The feeling that something significant in my life was about to happen spread like venom and it began to gnaw on my heart. Without warning, my bedroom door opened up. Mom is locking her striking green eyes into mine. She is still wearing her day clothes from the day before and has a backpack on that is stuffed full.

I sit up, trying to figure out what my Mother was doing. She walks quickly over to me with tears running down her face and wraps her arms around me. This is the first time I have felt her warm embrace in months. I was shocked by the sudden contact, but I instinctively wrapped all limbs that I could around her to ensure she stayed in the hug.

"I have to leave, sweetheart." She says, trembling. Her fear of touching me is obvious.

I feel my heart sinking straight down to the knot in my stomach. I begin to panic, not wanting to let go. I finally get to feel my Mother's touch, comfort, and scent; she can't leave me now!

"No, Mom. NO. Please no!... We can pretend I don't see - them - Mom." I begin to hiccup from my crying as Mom pulls away from our hug to hold my jaw and cheeks with her shaky hands. She looks at me with her tears spilling down her face as she wipes mine with her thumbs. Her floating jewels are drifting around like the flakes in a snow globe.

"Please, Mom, I'm sorry, I'm a...freak a...a monster. Please don't..."My sobbing and heavy breathing make it impossible to keep talking. Mom holds me in her arms again, gently moving side-to-side in a hug while shushing me softly. Her head is leaning against mine with her lips close to my ear. Her glow is wrapped around me giving me some additional warmth and comfort that I had missed dearly. Each of her floating green jewels that pass through my body sends a tingle down my spine.

"I can't do it, sweetheart. Please forgive me." She gets up and walks out of my bedroom. I sit on my bed still chewing the words she whispered in my ears. The full reality of her leaving hits me as I can hear her car door shutting from outside and the engine turns on.

Adrenaline hits me as I dash out of my room, barefoot. I run through the hallway and dining area to the front door just in time to see her car fully turned around to head up our long drive-way.

"MOM!" My voice sounds ear-piercing and rough. I see my mom looking in her side-view mirror at me before she focuses back on the road and pushes on the gas so hard that it throws gravel in my face.

"STOP, MOM! PLEASE! MOOOOOM!" I chase her down the gravel road, trying to dodge the rocks as they fly by me. I still got hit in the left eye, right ear, and forehead by the flying rubble. She put a big distance between us halfway up the driveway, so I decide on a new tactic. Our gravel road is full of twists and turns in the country area. I'm a slow runner, but I attempt to catch up to her by cutting through the trees before she gets on the main road. I'm jumping over giant rocks and roots and I get close to touching her door handle. My weak ankles finally betray me, with my right one twisting hard. Luckily, I fell away from the car’s tires as it speeds ahead of me. I pick myself up quickly. I'm used to the pain that comes with a twisted ankle and I continue to chase the car. I limp a few times before I see her turn right and speeds off on the main road. I just stopped moving where the main road starts, watching my Mother's car as long as I possibly can before it went over a hill.

I collapsed against a post at the end of our gravel road and began to cry; she was gone.

It's all my fault. Stupid. I am so stupid. Of course, I should have realized that seeing an aura wasn't normal. No one mentioned them at school. Why me? Why couldn't I have been a normal girl? My mother rejected me. I'm a freak.

It had been a couple of hours since Mom left, but I never moved. Dad’s truck appeared over the hill and I hear his truck engine roar from him flooring the gas pedal as he saw me. By the time he got to me, I was numb to the world, all my tears used up. I could hear dad's voice, but I was too focused on the road where I last saw mom's car to listen to him. He looked exhausted, he had been working more hours recently and I know he had been having trouble sleeping since their fighting started.

Based on his expression, he knew Mom was leaving; I guess he left the house to give her some privacy to pack. He was looking over my wounds before he picked me up. I hadn't realized how bloody my feet had gotten from running, mostly just small cuts, but there was a lot. He kept me in his lap while he drove the truck back down the gravel path to our home.

Dad carried me inside and sat my tush on one of our dining room chairs. I look around the house - I no longer see my Mother's aura leaving her warm glow anywhere.

"She's gone," I say flatly as I stare at the guest bedroom and shiver from the loss of my Mother's warm aura.

"It will be ok, pumpkin. We will be fine." My dad's voice seems reassuring and calm as he opens our med-kit and pulls out bandages. His burnt-orange specks, the size of sand, were flickering in zigzags while his maroon glow twitched aggressively, indicating he was upset.

“Pumpkin I'm sorry I left you this morning. I didn't know she would do this to you before leaving.” His voice radiating hatred towards my mother as he looks at the condition I'm in.

"It's my fault. I ran after her and the gravel hit me,” I say without any emotion. She may have left me, but I'm going to defend her still.

I look around our home, remembering all our wonderful times in this house as a happy family. There will be no more happy memories to add to my childhood with her. All I can imagine is my Dad looking sad, lonely, and overworked for the remainder of his life. All this because of me. I'm a freak, a freak who broke a happy relationship. I’m a freak that a mother can't love. It’s all my fault that Dad lost her. My fault she left.

“I'm sorry, Dad. I ruined - yours and - Mom's - life." Although I have no tears left to shed, I begin to breathe quickly, unable to get enough air. I can't stop my thoughts over-flowing in my head as I try to get oxygen. My world is spiraling and I feel no control over anything - no control at school, home, or my own body.

"Hey, pumpkin, shh, calm down. Ok?” He places the medkit on the table and rushes over to me. My entire body is trembling.

“Shhh. Take slow deep breaths, pumpkin." He is holding me in his powerful arms and rubs my upper back with his massive hand. His maroon glow gives a bit of warmth, his aura makes me feel safe. His tiny orange specks are giving me soft kisses as well, further soothing me. I start to calm down and place my head on his broad shoulders. Following his orders, I try to slow down my breathing and attempt to breathe deeper.

"Just like that pumpkin, focus on breathing. I got you and I’ll never let go.” Dad says in a soothing voice.

"Dad will protect me. Dad will love me." I say in my mind. When I lift my head, I see my blood staining his nice shirt. The stain made me realize how Dad would have to do more cleaning and cooking. The last thing I want is for Dad to leave me from the additional work of raising me on his own.

"Dad, I'm sorry that all of this happened because of me. I will learn to cook, clean, or do anything that will help you." I say as mature as I can. Dad was cleaning my forehead with a washcloth and stopped for a moment when I finished talking.

"Thank you, pumpkin. But stop blaming yourself for Mom's choices." He has a faint smile on his face, hiding the hurt he was truly feeling. Based on his aura, he had stopped loving Mom some time ago. I'm guessing his sadness is directed towards me.

"It's the truth, Mom left because of me and I will make sure to help you with anything. I mean it, Father." The word father felt foreign to my lips, but I'm trying to show him how serious I am.

He finished placing the bandage on my forehead and wiping the blood off my feet. After looking at my swollen eye he got up and walked to the fridge to make an ice pack.

"There is something that you can help me with, but I left it at work." My Dad says while the ice dispenser spits out a handful of cubes.

"What is it?" I ask with curiosity.

"It's a surprise," Dad says, with his teasing smirk plastered on his face. He knows I have little patience for surprises.

"Can we go get it now?" I need to distract myself from this morning's event. Knowing my Dad, he most likely had prepared a distraction for me at his office this morning while Mom packed.

"We can go after you get cleaned up." He says, giving me the ice pack. I place the bag on my eye as Dad grabbed the air-splint cast I have from all my past ankle accidents. It's two hard white plastic pieces that curve to form around my ankle and lower legs. There is pink silicone that cushions the inside to cradle my leg like a pillow. Then there are velcro straps that wrap it securely. It helps with swelling and keeps my ankle straight while it heals.

"We should have you wear these all the time, pumpkin. Maybe it would help you from twisting your ankles." My dad chuckles at the image of me with two giant casts on my legs as he finished putting on my air-cast.

"Stupid ankles," was my only reply as I stare at the thin knobs that connect to my feet, my naturally tanned skin contrasting with the white cast. Dad chuckles at what I said before he gets up from his kneeling position and then helps me up on my feet.

"Go, get dressed. We'll stop somewhere for breakfast first," Dad says as he turns to his room while taking his top layer shirt off. I limp to my room and get dressed for this horrible day. I appreciate that Dad is trying to cheer me up, but the day is already spoiled. I chose an outfit that I dislike wearing. I plan on throwing the clothes away tonight, along with this nightgown; I don't want to see them in my closet and remember today.