Sorry it's been so long guys! I just haven't really thought about Wattpad in a long time. 

So...here goes! 

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•Chapter Two• 

-Mourning Is For Mourners-

After an hour of sobbing and the drawl of some random man, I am set free to my normal, 17-year-old life.

I hope.

The pain attack made absolutely no sense. I've never experienced anything like it before. It's not like I've been doing anything too extreme. Just destroying about 250 tissues, covered in disgusting snot and dark chalky eyeliner.

About a fifth of those tissues are beside my bed right now. I dab my eyes then blow my nose for the umpteenth time. I feel like I have the emotional flu.

If everyone had this happen, we'd have an epidemic. But for right now, the Antony family has to deal.

Especially Kate Antony.

Something makes it feel like it's all my fault it happened. Like the iPod incident made her die. It makes about as much sense as a nursery rhyme, though.

The tissue meets my nose again, and I blow, sniffling afterwards. I'm a wreck.

As I lay here, moping, distressed, on the bed, I hear the familiar lyrics to my favorite song.

I open up my phone at the speed of light after seeing the caller ID. The name actually makes me feel happy: Will Coleman. My boyfriend.

"Kate?"

"Hey," I sniffle, smiling a little.

"What's...up? I haven't seen you out very much." He sounds concerned.

"Well..." Sigh. "My grandmother died."

Will erupts into a fountain of all the typical things people say when a relative dies. I'm so sorry, I feel terrible, etcetera.

I hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. "So I guess that means tonight's date is off?"

"No!" I jump up in spite of myself. "Pick me up in an hour, okay?"

"Well, ok-"

"Bye!" My voice cuts him off.

For a second I rest on the bed, before hopping up again to get ready.

The closet is full of just about everything, from dance recital costumes to the dress I wore to the last school dance.

I pick out a new gray dress I got the other day, and let it slip onto me gracefully. Spinning, I laughed for the first time in what seemed like forever.

But when I was putting on make-up, I felt weird. As in, creepy psychotic weird. It was like if anyone walked in, I'd want to kill them. For no reason at all. So when I looked into the mirror to continue with eye make-up, I nearly shrieked.

My eyes, the irises, were a bright red. They were the color of fresh blood, glowing like glow sticks on Halloween.

I backed away for a second, and breathed slowly. C'mon, Kate; in, out, in, out. You've got a crazy imagination.

The mirror didn't look odd. Slowly, I approached it again. The image of my face looked perfectly normal, aside from my face looking a little paler than usual.

"Oh..." I sighed. I must be going insane. It wouldn't be too long until I needed therapy. It might just be trauma from Grandma's death.

No. It isn't. This is obviously something no one's ever dealt with.

I've got no time for this, though. A car horn outside sends me out of my train of thought as I run down the stairs.

For one second more, I think.

What in the natural world could ever be this powerful?