Word count: 2640

❝𝑃𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒. 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒.❞
―𝐴𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑒𝑘ℎ𝑜𝑣

—☾—

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐃 over the window sill, her brown eyes pleasuring in the bright green grass and her ears enjoying the faint sound of children's screams of delight. 

Glancing behind her to make sure that no one was approaching, her delicate hands unlocked the window and slid it open, and her face was immediately welcomed by a refreshing breeze.

With a sigh of longing, Elizabeth rested her chin on her hands, her elbows propped up on the window sill. Oh, how she yearned to be outside, kicking a ball around with the other kids her age across the street . . . .

But no, she wasn't allowed to play with the other teens. Her parents demanded that much from her, and, as a good child, she heeded, despite how much as it pained her to do so.

Elizabeth never really knew why her parents kept her inside the home for the entirety of her nearly fourteen-year life, despite her begs and pleas for them to tell her the reason. 

Under a strict set of rules, she usually stayed at home. She would do whatever to pass time by, although she wasn't sure for how long she'd need to do that, seeing that there wasn't a time she was urged to get to.

And times like these were ones that she wished that she could go and play. When no one was watching her; when the weather couldn't be any more beautiful, with the warm sunlight that enveloped her body and the cool winds that reassured her; when she just wanted to be a kid, rather than stay cooped up inside and spending time reading or doing work.

Elizabeth swallowed nervously as she closed the window and tentatively stepped towards the glass doors that led to their backyard. 

Checking over her shoulder one last time to make sure no one was watching, she quietly pulled the door open and slipped outside.

A sense of peacefulness washed over her as the breeze gently pushed her black hair back. Elizabeth considered staying in her own backyard, where she could just pick at the flowers and savour the weather, but she decided against it. She was going to do something else. Something even better.

She tried to keep a confident gaze as she walked across the street, but a sliver of nervousness tickled her the same way the grass was doing to her bare feet. She ignored it.

Elizabeth approached the group of a few girls who bounced around on the grass, kicking a soccer ball from one to another. Only a couple of them seemed to take notice of her sudden presence, but were waiting for her to speak first.

"H-hi!" Elizabeth greeted nervously, her fingers twisting each other behind her back. "Can I play with you guys?"

"Sure!" The blonde girl closest to her grinned, revealing the glint of metal braces.

Elizabeth smiled, the feeling of anxiety now disappeared. Finally.

The other girls weren't shy with Elizabeth while they passed the ball around—they asked about her life, her hobbies, and why they had never seen her before if she had lived there for her whole life. The last one, she didn't know how to answer, though they easily accepted her mumble and shrug.

About an hour passed, with time flying quicker than Elizabeth had ever experienced. This was the most fun she'd ever had, and she wasn't ready to let it fall from her grasp so quickly.

However, worry loomed over her as the sky darkened, and so she said goodbye to her new friends, promising to come back the next day.

When she had snuck back into the house, it seemed as though no one had noticed her missing presence, fortunately; her mother was still watching television (some sort of drama that had so many twists and reveals that Elizabeth could never keep up with), and her father was working in his home office. She doubted that she had even crossed either of their minds while she was gone.

The next few days went quite similarly. Elizabeth would wait until her parents were busy with something, sneak out to the backyard, and join the girls in whatever they were doing. It seemed as though the girls met in habit; always at the same time, same place, every day.

And it went well. Elizabeth got to have fun with everyone else, while her parents hadn't the slightest clue about anything she was doing. Whenever she was questioned about what she was doing, she would simply say that she was cleaning her room or reading a book. And they always bought it. They didn't care for her much anyway.

About a week of this later, the girls were playing soccer once more, kicking the black-and-white ball around the grass. Elizabeth had joined them only a few minutes before and had gladly accepted a position on the team of the blonde girl—Sofie.

Elizabeth passed the ball over to another teammate before they kicked it into the makeshift net that had been created with cardboard. Elizabeth high-fived the other girl, a wide grin on her face as they returned to their side.

They resumed the match, and Elizabeth watched as the ball went from player to player on the other side of the field, her knees bent and her breathing slowed as she waited for the chance to play.

"Hey, Lizzy?" Bailey, a girl with ginger hair and gorgeous brown eyes, called over from a few feet away, her hands cupped around her mouth to louden her words.

"Yeah?" Elizabeth stepped towards her with a smile, taking her eyes off of the ball that was being kicked to Sofie.

She grinned. "Do you want to—"

The urgent shout of Sofie cut Bailey off, "Elizabeth, watch out!"

Elizabeth turned to see the ball soaring straight towards her, only a few feet away. With a small yelp of fright, she raised her hands in front of her face to protect herself from getting hit, shutting her eyes tight as she waited for the impact of the ball to smack her.

But it never came.

She heard collective gasps and squeals come from the girls around her, immediately worrying her. What had happened? Did someone else get hit somehow?

Elizabeth slowly lowered her hands, peeking one eye open to see that the ball had been almost completely disintegrated, the only proof of its existence being a few strings and patches left on the ground in front of her.

Her eyes then drifted up to the girls who were now surrounding her, their eyes wide and their expressions dumbfounded. They kept shifting their gaze between what was left of the ball and Elizabeth's hands, and some of them took a few steps backward as if they were afraid of something.

Had she done this?

Her fear turned into terror as a deep voice spoke angrily from behind her, "Elizabeth."

Tentatively, she turned to see her father standing there, his arms folded and an infuriated look upon his face. This wasn't going to end well for her.

"Come here."

With tears in her eyes, Elizabeth lowered her head and slowly made her way over to her father, feeling the stares of the girls on her back. 

Silently, he grabbed her hand and began to roughly pull her towards the house, muttering words she couldn't understand to himself.

What had just happened? Was she the one that had disintegrated the ball? How had she done that?

Her father pushed her towards her room as soon as they entered the house, and his glare silently threatened her. "Stay in there for now. Your mother and I need to talk."

Elizabeth nodded mutely before going into her room, sniffling as she gently closed the door. Through the walls, she could hear her parents speaking in hushed voices, sometimes raising their voices enough for her to listen in.

Her mother was trying to stay calm, but it obviously wasn't working as she exclaimed, "Sam, we cannot do that!"

"Why not?" her father responded harshly. "We thought we would be able to manage it, but we were wrong. Now, all those girls know that she's unusual, and soon enough, the whole neighbourhood will know! Besides, that guy obviously knows what he's doing."

Her mother's voice was hesitant. "And you think he'll know how to control . . . her?"

Control her? Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows. What did her mother mean? It wasn't as if she was some out-of-control, crazy kid!

"Yes! I think we're better off if we just give her to him," her father sighed. "That's what we should've done the first time he asked."

"Sam—"

"Don't tell me I'm wrong, Jenny. This kid has been a burden to us from the moment we figured out her . . . problem. We can barely leave the house, we have to get questioned every time we see friends and family, I have to worry about someone getting hurt, about you getting hurt—I don't want to deal with this anymore."

"Won't people question us if we send her away forever?"

"I'm sure we could come up with something," her father said dismissively. "We'll figure that out after. We can say she went to boarding school, or—or that she ran away. We can—we can move and start a new life, that's not a big problem. But first, we need to—"

Elizabeth had had enough of eavesdropping. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was more than shocked that her parents could do such a thing to her. 

Sure, they were pretty bad parents, and yeah, they usually ignored her, but they were still her parents. Plus, what even was this place they were talking about? And the man?

Not long after did her door burst open, her mother and father standing in the doorway. Elizabeth looked at them, feeling fear creep up inside of her as she waited for them to tell her the bad news.

"Elizabeth." Her father sat down on her bed, glancing over at her mother before looking back at her. "We need to talk. But first" —he took out a pair of black gloves, ones that resembled what her mother wore in the winter whenever she went outside and handed it to her— "put these on."

Confused, she slid the gloves on, feeling the fuzzy material brush against her skin. She could feel her parents' nervous gaze follow each hand as they moved, but asked no question as to why.

Her parents then began to explain how on the day she was born, the first of October, 1989, her mother had unexpectantly given birth to her in a coffee shop. The peculiar thing about this, her mother said, was that she hadn't been pregnant in the first place.

Only a few days after Elizabeth was born, a man, going by the name of Sir Reginald Hargreeves, came to their doorstep, explaining this to them. He offered them compensation in exchange for adopting Elizabeth, but being as skeptical as they were, her parents declined.

They told her how she began to exhibit strange behaviour after a few months: Gold light would shoot out of her hands whenever she got too excited or scared, her eyes would glow gold at that same time, and her brain was developing far faster than any other child her age. They soon realized that all of these powers were the reason why Sir Reginald Hargreeves came for her.

However, Elizabeth's parents had believed that they'd be able to handle it, by keeping her inside and limiting interaction with anyone. They never got her angry or scared, in fear of revealing her powers. 

They pretended as if the amount of knowledge she possessed and her mathematical capabilities were typical for her age, and that, yes, Elizabeth, every child your age can solve trigonometric functions in their head, you're not special. 

They had been grateful for the fact that their plan had worked so far, at least, up until that day. They had grown afraid of her, afraid of getting hurt because of her.

"So," her father continued after the recap, "you broke our rules and exposed yourself to those girls. We have no choice but to send you to this Sir Reginald Hargreeves man."

"But I don't want to go!" Elizabeth cried, feeling tears begin to moisten her eyes. "I don't even know—"

"You're going. That is final, Elizabeth," her mother said, a hardened look in her eyes as she gave Elizabeth a look that told her to shut up. "You and your father are leaving in ten minutes."

"Ten—"

"Pack your things," her father demanded before he and her mother exited the room.

Elizabeth always knew that her parents didn't seem to love her that much—and the feeling was mutual—but to send her to some random man for the rest of time with no remorse? How could they?

Accepting her fate, Elizabeth dragged out a small suitcase out of her closet while she sobbed. She unzipped it and looked around her room, not knowing what to take as she sized up each item. She put the bare necessities first: toiletry, clothes, things like that.

With little space left, Elizabeth stuffed a few of her favourite books into the area and closed the suitcase. She picked it up and walked to the front of her house, where her father was waiting.

Her mother barely gave a goodbye as the two left, only coming over to them to slip her father what seemed to be a business card. 

Elizabeth sat in the back of the car as her father began to drive, the two remaining in silence with only soft sniffles from her to interrupt.

The sky quickly darkened as a couple of hours passed, the sun settling into the evening sky. Bright lights from buildings began to illuminate the city as they headed towards their destination, which Elizabeth had no clue of.

After another half-hour, they stopped in front of a tall, beige building that stood at the side of the road, that had iron gates that protected the wooden doors. On each side of the gates, there was a stone statue of a lion, roaring as it brandished its head towards the sky.

"Get your things and follow me." 

Her father didn't wait as he departed from the car and began to walk towards the large house, the sound of his footsteps fading as he got farther away from her.

Elizabeth scrambled to grab her suitcase, rushing after her father as he passed through the gates and rang the doorbell.

Her thirteen-year-old body stood by his side as the door creaked open, revealing quite the intriguing man. His grey hair was combed to one side, and the ends of his moustache were so long that they almost joined his goatee. He was a tall, wiry man who was wearing a dapper suit, and a glimmering gold monocle rested in front of his left eye.

"May I help you?" the man questioned with an Irish accent, an eyebrow raised as he looked between Elizabeth and her father.

"Yes, I—I am Samuel Yang," her father introduced, "and this is my daughter, Elizabeth. You visited us almost fourteen years ago, asking to adopt her?"

The man squinted his eyes as his gaze shifted over to Elizabeth. "Yes?"

"You said you thought she could be special, and we didn't believe you," her father continued with apprehension. "You were right. She has these—these powers and . . . we can't handle it. You can take her."

"Pardon?" The man seemed taken aback by this as he furrowed his brows. "Now?"

"Please. It'll be better for us all," her father said darkly before turning and setting off towards the car. He didn't bother to look back at Elizabeth at all, and she was sure he was filled with relief.

The man sighed as he watched the car drive out of sight before resting a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder and crouching down. "Hello. My name is Sir Reginald Hargreeves, and I will be your father from now on."