genesis
the coming into being of something; the origin
The first thing you should know about me is that I was born during a thunderstorm. Considering what I found out about myself later, it seems fitting. I came in the hospital hallway before my mother even got to a birthing room. The next thing you should know is that my parents weren't rich. They weren't poor, but t hey're what my father called the "working class poor." They worked long hours and lived paycheck to paycheck to make sure the bills were paid, and I didn't have many extras growing up. Birthdays and Christmases were a couple of small gifts each, and that was it. But I grew up loved. That was more than most kids got. And at a young age, I didn't understand the concepts of money and how little we had. I had parents who cared. I had food to eat and clothes on my back. I had a backyard to play in surrounded by the swamplands of Louisiana.
My early life was spent inside with my very French mother, so that was the first language I learned fluently. English slowly came alongside it - faster when I grew old enough to run around a bit outside with my father while he worked. Besides having a factory job, he also worked as a blacksmith and I'd sit and watch him sometimes, but only after I'd promised to never ever touch anything ever upon pain of death. And things were good. I did what all kids did at my age. I threw temper tantrums and made jokes I probably shouldn't have made. I tried to get out of bedtime and ate snacks that I'd sneaked from the fridge while my mother wasn't looking. I cried over lost toys and scraped knees and not getting to watch my favorite show on tv. Despite the money troubles, it was a good start to life. It was a strong foundation that I'd need when life started throwing curve balls.
revelation
the act of disclosing something previously secret or obscure
I went to a fairly large school for the area. We were in a class of about six hundred students and I took to education like a fish to water. I loved learning new things and I had a mind that needed to be occupied. School allowed me to answer all the burning questions I had about everything. I thrived in it. I wanted to soak up every bit of knowledge and culture as I could. I enjoyed learning. Teachers loved me because I liked the structure of following the rules and getting praised for it. I was a bit of a people pleaser, to be honest. I liked doing good and making people proud.
It was during a storm. The teachers said there was a hurricane and all the students were kept on lockdown well into the afternoon. We were young; only in first grade. I wasn't afraid, though. The teachers were good at keeping us all calm right up until the power went out. I'd never been in a situation completely without power before and it felt odd to me. Not the darkness, but the absence of electricity. I thought it was the same for everyone else. I thought they could feel it, too. If I had to compare it to something, I would say it was like suddenly finding yourself without a heartbeat. You don't notice it until it's missing. The other children were frightened of the dark. I was frightened because I suddenly felt disconnected. Of course, I did what came naturally for me. If the electricity was out, I would simply put it back. I found the light socket easily, put my hand over it, and created my own heartbeat. The lights came back on, obviously, but not before everyone had seen the spark and the glowing blue of my eyes. Everything changed that day.
acclimation
The process of becoming adjusted to a new environment or situation
I was taken from the school by strange men in uniforms and stuck in a cold room with no windows. It was far more frightening than any hurricane as I was tested and questioned. They treated me like I was some rare object. A highly dangerous rare object. I didn't care what they did as long as they told me where my family was, but they wouldn't answer until I was fully tested and registered. I got a nice little file and a card that said "Electric. Class four." I didn't know what it meant. Not then. They kept me for what felt like a solid week before I was released back into my parents' custody. They were handed pamphlets on how to handle a "special" child. It had phone numbers for them to call in an emergency. They looked sad and I didn't know why. It was like someone had died.
Both of my parents had been tested as a precaution. Mom and Dad were normal, so we shambled ourselves home, switched schools, and tried to live a normal life, but some things couldn't go back to the way they were. My mom lost her job. They didn't say it was because of me, but I got the impression that it was and that they'd come up with some other reason to cover up their prejudice. Things were just like that in the south. Their prejudices changed over time, but nothing short of the apocalypse was going to make a bigot a saint. Personally, I thought playing with electricity was pretty cool.
We found out that switching schools wasn't going to be enough. With the loss of my mother's job, we could no longer afford our house and were unable to keep it in the family... even without an electric bill. We packed our bags and headed where there might be more opportunities: Lincoln City. I was in the second grade by then and switching schools didn't upset me as it might have later in life, but I learned very quickly that being Special wasn't so special at all. I came to introduce myself by my power and class first, and then my name. It didn't earn me any friends and I learned to keep my head down. Our house was small and we had no yard to speak of. We ate macaroni and cheese a lot. But my parents did the best that they could. They loved me despite everything.
edification
improvement, instruction, or enlightenment, esp when morally uplifting
As I got older, I started to take some pride in my education once again. It was different than it had been before, but I still enjoyed learning. Now, I could see the way some students were treated differently than others. I felt the sting of lower grades than other students received, grades that I knew were lower than they should have been based on the work. I grew smart enough to notice these things, to take stock of them, and to comport myself accordingly. I was always quiet and followed the rules and I did the best I could on my homework. Still, the small handful of Special students in the school stuck together. We understood each other in a way that other people wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't. That's how I met Ryleigh.
rapture
the state resulting from feelings of high emotion; joyous ecstasy
I tripped in gym class. And don't get me wrong, I knew who Ryleigh was before then, but I'd never really noticed. Puberty does wondrous things to your attention level to such things. We'd been playing basketball and I got tripped. I was pretty sure it was on purpose since I'd scored a point the last time and had the ball again. My ankle twisted and I could feel something tear as I fell. Ryleigh was there before anyone else was and she healed it without so much as saying hello first. I still remember the way this sweaty lock of hair fell into her eyes as she did it, slightly curled from the humidity. The pain faded and she stood, finger to her lips in a vow of silence. Of course, I could only stare like a lovestruck fool, and perhaps I was. Still, I did notice the slight limp to her walk as she went back to her own team. She was my first crush. After I tracked her down to thank her, asked her out, and got to know her, she became my first love. My first kiss. My first everything.
I graduated before she did. I was two years ahead of her. Strangely enough, my parents approved of the relationship. I think we'd all learned that it was much easier to survive and to try to get ahead in life if we stuck together. I went on to the local community college. I spent the first year with an undecided major. Things were looking up and I had at least a tentative hope for the future despite the student loan debt I was getting myself into. It didn't help that my father passed away that year from a brain aneurysm. It was sudden and there was nothing to be done, and I took a semester off school to grieve and be with my family.
Two years later, Ryleigh graduated. I'd chosen a major in business management for lack of any direction in my life, and I wanted to be able to find some work after graduation. I was twenty and I'd waited long enough, so I proposed to Ryleigh. We were married later that year in a small ceremony and even though we didn't want to bring a child into this particular life, Ryleigh found herself pregnant. Part of me was overjoyed, but the other part was apprehensive. What kind of life could I give a child in this society? Ella was born eight months after our wedding and after her birth, I was by turns more overjoyed and more apprehensive.
quintessence
the most perfect embodiment of something
I learned how to change diapers and make bottles. Later, how to wipe up messes of baby food and work an umbrella stroller. I graduated from college and I'll be honest, it took me awhile to find a job. People didn't trust Specials and they really didn't trust them in management positions. Especially one as dangerous as I knew I could be. Other people knew it, too. It didn't matter what else I had to offer. I was too dangerous. Too unpredictable. I had too much power at my fingertips to be allowed to order people around. I always showed them a picture of my daughter at that point in the interview, if I even got that far. It wasn't until a full year after graduating that I finally landed a steady job.
I worked at the textile factory. It was hard work and I didn't get any favors. I watched my daughter grow and go to school and when it was discovered that she was also a special, instead of shunning her the way I knew society would, I embraced her. We had a long talk that night about what it meant for her future. At the age of eight, I'm not sure she understood very well, but I knew from experience that she would soon enough. Things in society weren't getting better. But I had a life. I had a wife and a beautiful little girl who looked up to me to do the right thing. I had just about everything that a person could ask for, and for a handful of years, everything was as perfect as a Saturday morning watching cartoons and breakfast in bed. We weren't rich in the ways of money, but I had something that many people want and very few get. I had love. I had family. I had a roof over my head and food on the table.
TW: death and suicide
desolation
being without friends or hope; sorrow; grief; woe
Ella was a class three terra. She was thirteen, almost fourteen. She was a good kid. She was the kind of kid that you see in commercials, playing in the backyard with their puppy. She had her moments, but for the most part, she was strong, independent, polite, smart, and courageous. I can't describe how much I loved her. I loved Ryleigh more than life, but when it came to Ella's safety, I knew without a doubt that I would use Ryleigh as a human shield to keep our daughter from harm. I would have done anything to save her. That's what I told myself, at least. I didn't try hard enough.
Friends were never hard for Ella to come by. She collected people from all walks of life. Unfortunately for her, that also included a few unsavory types. She was too much like her mother in that respect. If she found someone alone and broken, lonely or beat down, she had to see the best in them and try to help them. That was simply who she was. She became close with a guy named Jake. He wasn't entirely a bad sort, but he didn't live in as stable of an environment as we did. I suspect that the two had feelings for one another, but we'll never know.
Jake robbed a convenience store and had Ella with him. She waited outside and when she realized what was going on, she called me. She knew well enough to know that he wasn't doing a good thing and she wanted me to come intervene. I knew by that point that calling in Enforcers would just get everyone in trouble or worse, so I was probably the best option at the time. The store clerk, however, saw no problem calling in reinforcements. The Enforcers got there before I did. Jake resisted and Ella did what she did best. She tried to save him. She raised up half the parking lot to block the bullets. It was more than I thought her capable of and for a brief, shining moment, I was more proud of her than I'd ever been.
Of course, she'd bitten off more than she could chew. She couldn't hold it and she'd intervened, making her an accomplice in the eyes of law enforcement. When the debris fell, the Enforcers opened fire once again. I'm sorry that I can't go into more detail. I will say that I tried to stop it, but I was too slow. I was too afraid of using my powers and the backlash that would have caused if I'd hurt someone. The only time I used my power that day was to try to restart Ella's heart, but I wasn't the Healer and Ryleigh wasn't there. There was nothing to be done.
causatum
situation following an event, occurrence
Enforcers aren't gentle even with the innocent. They took me in for questioning with no time for grief. I was released after two days, but how do you just pick up your life after that? I think Ryleigh saw me as a coward for not doing more. I don't say that I blame her. She blamed me. She blamed Enforcers. She blamed society. Most of all, she blamed herself. She spiraled into a deep depression, and I went with her. Perhaps if I'd been a little stronger, I could have done something. But I was so lost to my own grief that I didn't notice the signs until it was too late.
I came home from work and found Ryleigh in the bathtub, the water red, her eyes open and staring blankly. I won't go into detail about how I pulled her out of the water and tried to breathe life back into her. I won't tell you how badly it hurt or how alone and helpless I felt. She took her own life and she's gone now.
That was a year ago. I still work at the factory, going through the motions after having worked myself up to a supervisor position. But there's something else now, a desire to save others in a way that I couldn't save my own family and I've gone back to school to get a degree in psychology. I'm using my free time to study martial arts. Some might say I'm working myself into the ground instead of grieving properly. They might be right.
