Broken

If you knew you had some great destiny but no one would tell you what it was, would you be pissed? I sure as hell am. I mean, I get it. If you know what’s in store for your future you might make decisions you wouldn’t have and mess it all up, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as hell knowing other people know what I’M going to do. My mother has the gift of sight, she saw my future. All she would say is my destiny is a great one. I have the gift of sight, too. But you can never see what you’re going to do in your future. You could see what someone else might do that could affect you, but that’s about it. My gift hasn’t evolved enough to where I have visions during the day, though. So far they’re only dreams, extremely vivid dreams that I have to practice interpreting. It’s not always a scene of what will happen, sometimes it’s symbols that hint at what might happen. It’s annoying as hell. My father suggested I start writing a journal, so I’m giving it a shot. I don’t understand how it’s supposed to help my ‘anger issues’ but if it makes him happy, I’ll try. My mother has been homeschooling me since I got into a fight a few years ago and used my magic to get back at some catty b***h. She was harassing a kid who’s power wasn’t as strong as hers, so I taught her a lesson. I don’t see what the big deal is, but I prefer my mom teaching my anyway. According to her I have stronger magic than anyone else my age, but I think she’s just trying to make me more interested in learning. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. But my mind wanders a lot without my permission. I daydream of things without trying to, things that don’t make sense to me. But I guess that’s what daydreaming is, your mind going on an all night binge, taking some mushrooms and hallucinating random s**t. Luckily, I pick things up pretty quickly so it doesn’t hold me back too much. I practice every day before and after work, it’s a good way to release any bottled up tension. Things have been hard for everyone since my sister died, Abigail was my best friend. Two years younger than me, but smart as a whip and so funny. Her magic was developing slow, so I’d always help her with it. Until she was killed in some kind of fight or something that got out of hand before we moved again two years ago. My mother wouldn’t tell me what exactly happened and I never wanted to know, it was too painful. They knew I blamed myself for not going with her to the market that day. I know it’s not my fault, but it feels like it. If that makes sense. Shit! It’s 3:30, I gotta get ready for work. I have the 4:30 shift this afternoon. Bye or whatever. -Serafina Stormfire Jumping out of bed, I throw my new journal onto my desk and grab some clothes. My favorite pair of black cargo skinny jeans and a plain white tee shirt, then I slide my black ankle boots on and grab my black leather jacket with a hood in case it rains again. Black is my favorite color, if you couldn’t tell. Grabbing my keys, I head for the door by the kitchen.     “I’m leaving! See you tonight!” I yell back into the house as I open the door.      “Love you! Drive safe, Fina!” my mom yells back before I close and lock the door behind me.     Picking up and putting on the helmet that was resting on my seat, I climb onto the motorcycle I got for my seventeenth birthday and ride. The best thing about living on the outskirts of town, besides the privacy, is the ride down the ten mile long stretch of dirt road before I even get to the gas station right before entering town square.     Feeling the wind whipping my blood orange hair around my shoulders and my shirt flapping around my body feels so freeing. The bright sunshine warming my skin, the scent of flowers and trees after a warm summer rain, it’s my peace. The nature all around me feels like home in a way. As I turn the corner, a deer runs through the forest frightened by the sound of my bike. When I finally get to the herb and potions shop, I have five minutes before my shift starts. The owner and my boss, Anya, is a close friend of my mother’s. It’s just her and I working here and I prefer it that way. I’ve been told I’m not good at making friends before, it’s probably true though. Walking through the door lavender, wolfsbane, witch hazel, and a few others I can’t put my finger on overpowers my sense of smell. She must be working on something new, she’s actually really good at it. What she’s possibly making I have no idea. Anya loves to experiment, making new potions and making old potions better. She’s got a gift with this stuff, she’s the best potion maker in this whole territory. She knows every herb and has the biggest selection of herbs available for purchase. She makes good money with her shop, and I make a good paycheck. Tiptoeing quietly through the shop, I sneak up closely behind her.     “What ya working on over here?” I whisper in her ear, immediately backing up so she doesn’t knock into me when she flies off her seat. Unable to keep my laughter from bursting out, she turns to me with squinted eyes and slap the side of my head.      “Gods! Are you trying to send an old lady to an early grave? What have I told you about sneaking up on me! You’re so much like your mother.” She tries scolding me, but I can tell she’s not seriously upset by the smirk she’s trying to keep hidden.     “Alright, Fina. Enough games for today, go clean up the shop and get everything organized for new customers,” she says while turning to continue her work. “Make sure the labels are facing outward for the potions and the herbs, don’t forget again!” I can hear her chuckling as I walk back to the front. One time, it was only one time I forgot to turn the labels facing front on a shelf and a customer bought a vial of Paralyzing Fear instead of Lucid Dreaming. One mistake and she never lets me live it down.     A few customers enter the shop and get their weekly orders, Anya keeps a record of their names, what they get, and when they get it for me to make sure no one comes in claiming to be someone to get stuff for free. It’s happened before. A new customer comes in looking around at everything, but doesn’t seem particularly focused on the herbs or vials. Luckily Anya calls me to the back after I noticed he keeps looking over at me when I turn my head. If creepy was a living being, it’d be this guy.     “I need you to organize the stock in the back and write everything down, I’ll keep an eye on the front for a while.” She tells me before patting my shoulder and walking to the front. The storage area is a lot bigger than you’d think from how small the shop looks. It takes me hours, almost the rest of my shift to sort through everything, label it all, put them in their places and record everything. By the time I’m done my back is sore from constantly bending to the lower shelves and crouching to the floor. Stretching as I walk into the front, Anya pokes my exposed stomach with a pen, leaving a red dot on my skin.     “You should start wearing actual colors, Fina. Black and white are nice, but every day? You’re a beautiful girl, a mossy green color or burgundy even. They’re not bright and they’d look great against your light olive tone!” she tells me.     “I’ll think about it, Anya. I promise.” With my fingers crossed behind my back, I snicker internally. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m more comfortable in black and white, occasionally grey too. Unable to hold in a yawn, my jaw feels like it’s going to break apart.     “Can I go home now? It’s only ten minutes early, please?” I ask, using my puppy dog face to soften her up.     “Sure, you’ve done a lot today. Tell your mother I say ‘hello’!” she says while waving me away.     “Of course I will! See you tomorrow.” Going in for a hug before I go, I squeeze her tight making her laugh. She’s the closest thing to an aunt I’ve ever had. Waving goodbye, I leave the shop and hop on my motorcycle. The cool night air feels amazing. As I ride home the sky fills with a mix of orange, pink, purple and blue as the sun sets behind the trees, in this moment everything feels magical.     Pulling over at the side of the house by the kitchen door, I take my keys out and leave my helmet on the seat as I head to unlock the door.     “Ma, Pop! I’m home!” I call through the house so they hear me wherever they are. Going up the stairs to my room, I fantasize about the long, hot shower I’m going to take as soon as I can get out of these clothes. As soon as I get to my door I hear a loud crash downstairs but before I can go back down to see what it was, my mother comes running up the stairs, dragging me toward her bedroom.     Almost tripping over my own feet a few times as she drags me by my jacket sleeve, I finally regain my balance just as we reach her room. Seeing the panic in her eyes, my heart starts to race. Ma is never scared or panicked, whatever is going on has to be bad.