Nighttime

''FUCKING GREAT. JUST GREAT.''

The soles of my boots crunched across the gravel, echoing over the constant song of crickets and katydids, the occasional splash of water, and the call of bullfrogs. It might be summer time to the other part of the world but, here was almost winter time. I gripped the box tighter, trying to see beyond the moss-draped live oaks and cypress trees and into the deepest, darkest shadows of a swampy lake. But a wall of blackness prevented me, a wall that- I blinked-seemed to waver.

But it was just tears rising to the surface.

I could barely breathe. I never expected this...hurt. I never expected to actually learn what happened to her. After a quick swipe at the corners of my eyes, I set the box on the passenger seat of the car and then drove down the lonely winding road to Sunflower, Corona, and back to something resembling civilization.

Sunflower hovered on the Rim, the boundary between the land of the forsaken and the rest of the country; a border town with a Dream Inn Express.

The box stayed on the hotel bed while I kicked off my boots, shrugged out of my old jeans, and jerked the tee over my head. I'd taken a shower that morning, but after my trip to the hospital, I needed to wash off the cloud of depression and the thick smell of swamp that clung on my skin.

In the bathroom, I turned on the shower and began untying the thin black ribbon around my neck, making sure not to let my favorite amulet-a platinum crescent moon-slip off the end. The moon has always been my favorite sight in the sky, especially on a clear cold night when it's surrounding by twinkling stars. I love it so much, I had a tiny black crescent tattooed below my the corner of my right eye, on the highest rise of my cheekbone-my early high school graduation present to myself. The tattoo reminded me of the comfort I'd felt from before. The crescent moon. My birthplace- Burgess.

But those were old names. Now Burgess is known as New 2, a grand decaying, lost city that refused to be swept away with the storm. A privately owned city and beacon, a sanctuary for misfits and things that went bump in the night, or so they said.

Standing in front of the long hotel mirror in my black bra and panties. I leaned closer to my reflection and touched the small black moon, thinking of my mother I'd never really known, the mother who could've had the same cerulean colored eyes as the ones staring back at me in the mirror, or same freaky hair.....

I sighed, straightened, and reached behind my head to unwind the tight bun upon my head.

Unnatural. Bizarre. Fucked up.

I'd used all those words and more to describe the coil that unwound and fell behind my shoulders, the ends brushing the small of my back. Parted in the middle. All one length. So light in color, it looked lifeless in moonlight. My hair. The bane of my existence. Full. Glossy. But it was all natural.

No, Unnatural.

Another tired exhale escaped my lips. I gave up trying a long time ago.

When I'd first realized-back when I was seven or so-that my hair attracted the wrong sort of attention from some of the foster men and boys in my life, I tried everything to get rid of it. Cut it. Dyed it. Shaved it. I'd even lifted hydrochloric acid from the science lab in seventh grade, filled the sink, and then dunked my hair into the solution. It burned my hair into oblivion, but a few days later it was back to the same length, the same color, the same everything. Just like always.

So I hid it the best I could; buns, braids, hats. And I wore enough black, had accumulated enough attitude throughout my teenage years that most guys respected my no's when I said them. And if they didn't, well, I'd learned how to deal with that, too. My current foster parents, Eugene and Rapunzel Fitzherbert, were both bail bondsmen, which meant they put up the bail money so defendants could avoid jail time until their court appearance. And if the didn't show for the appointment with the judge, we hunted them down and brought them to jurisdiction so we weren't stuck footing the bill. Thanks to Eugene and Rapunzel, I could operate six different firearms, drop a two-hundred-pound asshole to the floor in three seconds flat, and cuff a prep with one hand tied behind my back.

And they called it ''family time.''

My hazy reflection smiled back at me. The Fitzherberts were pretty decent, decent enough to let a eighteen-year-old burrow their car and go in search for her past. Rapunzel had been a foster kid too, so she understood my need to know. She knew I had to do this alone. I wished I'd gotten placed with them in the beginning. A snort blew through my nose. Yeah, and if wishes were dollars, I 'd be Bill gates.

Steam filled the bathroom. I knew what I was doing. Avoiding. Classic Elsa MO. If I didn't take a shower, I wouldn't get out, put on my pj's, and then open the damn box.

''Just get it over with, you big wuss.'' I stripped off the last of my clothes.

Thirty minutes later, after my fingertips were wrinkled and the air was so saturated with steam it was hard to breathe, I dried off and dressed in my favorite pair of old plaid boxers and a thin cotton tank. Once my wet hair was braided back, I put on a pair of my fuzzy socks over my feet. I sat cross legged in the middle of the king-sized bed.

The box just sat there. In front of me

To be continued

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P.s Elastigirl was straight up body goals all the way