Untitled *HF* by Rage
Charlotte stared off into the night sky and watched as the last twinkling remnants of a shooting star became one with the oblivion of space. This was her third week in this country and she missed home far more than she thought she ever could. Watching the stars reflecting in the puddle that had formed in her aunt's driveway she longed to be standing once again on the banks of the Thames. She had spent many nights standing on its banks staring at London staring back at her in the dark water. She would stand there until the wee hours of the morning watching the reflection of her pale face become more distorted with each teardrop that rippled the river.
Charlotte wasn't angry with her parents for sending her away. She understood why they did, kind of. Looking down at the cross shaped scars on her wrists from her first two suicide attempts she felt ashamed. Her parents had tried to help her, but didn't know how. They wouldn't have even known she had a problem if the voices hadn’t have been so loud that they made her cry out that day in the mall. But they weren’t telling her to do things, they weren’t really saying anything at all, it was just a jumbled mass of voices. She told them it was just a sudden migraine and they believed her; they probably really didn’t believe her, but wanted to so badly they ignored the other possibilities.
After the morning she awoke covered in blood that was not her own and not able to recall how it got there she couldn't take it anymore. She tried for a third time to commit suicide. Downing a bottle of acetaminophen and she took a long (and what was supposed to be her last) bath while her parents were at work; she awoke several hours later, water logged but alive, to her mom knocking on the bathroom door. A week later she was sent to America to live with her aunt.
Her aunt knew about her problems and seemed to suspect there was more than Charlotte was telling. Her aunt said she knew people who could help her. Charlotte made it quite clear that she would not go to a “shrink,” and her aunt reassured her that these people where nothing of the sort, but Charlotte was still apprehensive. A raindrop fell and broke the stillness of the puddle, and subsequently Charlotte’s concentration. It was getting late and if she was going to see these people tomorrow, she was going to need her sleep.
Looking down at Charlotte’s wrists the doctor commented. “Unless you’re doing that for decoration there’s no use.” Charlotte looked at him puzzled and pulled her hands into her coat sleeves. “You’re external.”
Charlotte’s heart sank. She looked down at her wrists and knew that the last two times she actually had died.
“We’re done for the day. Want me to call your aunt to come and get you.”
“No, that’s okay. I know the way, I’d rather walk.” Charlotte stuffed her hands into the pockets of her black trench coat and walked off into the drizzle.
Halfway home a car drove by her a little too close to the curb and drenched her. That was the last straw; she found the nearest bus stop bench and proceeded to sit and cry.
She felt more hopeless now than she ever had before. Now not even death was her friend. She was trapped; worthless carrion caught in a world that didn’t want her. Not only was she a social outcast, she was a mutant as well. Despair completely consumed her now. The pain was unbearable, but even worse was the pain of knowing she could do absolutely nothing to end it; she couldn’t even die. She cried until she had no more tears left, then she let the sky cry for her.
The rain lightened up and Charlotte saw her face reflected in a puddle in front of the bench. She growled in disgust and purposely stomped the pool of rainwater as she stood. The sun was starting to set and she knew her aunt would be worried about her. She felt enough grief, so in order not to spread anymore than was necessary, she continued her walk home.
Charlotte froze in mid-stride when she felt the barrel of the gun against her spine. “Just walk into the alley.” The person at the other end of the gun commanded. She did as she was ordered and when he got her into the alley he had her turn around. “You’re a pretty one aren’t you? After I see what’s in your pockets I’ll have to check else where.” She knew exactly what he meant and fear started to burn its way through her veins.
“Not again. I have to control it. If I could only get to my katana.” Her thoughts roared in her head as she tried to block out his; she didn’t want to know what he had planned for her.
He held her against the side of a building by her throat. She was about to reach for her katana when she realized she had left it by her bedroom door where she had placed the previous evening while she was washing her coat.
She didn’t want to let out what she knew was inside of her, but this was a man that could probably crush her wind pipe with no problem, and the physical violence wasn’t her fear, it was what else he eluded to
It gnawed at her mind growing stronger with each passing second. She kept trying to control it, but when he ran out of pockets to search it overpowered her, and the last tear she had left in her body trickled down her face.
Her watched in shock and horror as her black hair changed to the colour of blood and she turned her head to look at him with the red eyes of a demon. She pushed him off, took the gun from his hand and scratched him deeply with the claws that had taken the place of her fingernails. He screamed as he bled and tried to fight her off. He got away for a few seconds but fell backwards onto the pavement. Charlotte pounced on him, pinning his arms with her knees. The man looked up at her with eyes filled with tears of fear and pain as she put her hand to his forehead. She forced his head sideways exposing his neck, and then opened her mouth wide. She sunk her fangs into his warm, soft flesh and savoured the hot, sticky liquid as it was pumped in her mouth and dripped down her chin and neck. She soon became impatient and forcibly sucked the blood from the wound.
When she had had her fill she jumped off of him and left a blood kiss mark on his tear stained cheek.
Meanwhile a few yards away Steven Booth was scraping the last bit of Neapolitan ice cream out of the Baskin Robbin’s bowl with the little pink spoon when he sensed something, or rather someone. He turned to look in the direction of the force and saw someone with blood red hair dart out of an alley with a black trench coat trailing behind them. The person ran like mad through the people on the street, but no one seemed to take notice; it was like they didn’t the person. Steven tossed his bowl and spoon into a nearby garbage can and decided to follow the person. He followed the person for about a mile when suddenly they darted into a house shutting he door behind them
Charlotte collapsed on her bed in exhaustion and fell asleep.
Steven stood outside the house for a few minutes wondering just how to approach the person. He knew they weren’t the only one who lived there since there was a dry spot in the driveway where a car had been while it had rained and the person who went into the house had been running. His pondering was short lived, because while he was standing there a car pulled into the driveway.
Charlotte awoke, rubbed her eyes, and was immediately frightened. She couldn’t remember how she got home; the last thing she remembered was the man in the alley… Her thoughts stopped there. She ran to the mirror and stifled a scream. Her chin, neck and shirt were encrusted with dried blood. She ran her tongue along her teeth to check and see if maybe she had had one knocked out; and hoping one had been and the blood was hers. All her teeth were there. She panicked. She stripped off her coat and shirt, threw on another shirt and headed to bathroom to wash her face.
She washed the blood off her face, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She knew the blood wasn’t hers and felt like a monster. Hanging her head she watched as her tears dripped into the sink. She looked at her tear-stained face in the mirror and had to use all her will power to keep herself from punching it. Hanging her head again she took her hands off of the sink and let them fall lifelessly to her sides.
She walked out of the bathroom and was headed back into her room to try and figure out what to do with her bloody clothes when her aunt called to her from downstairs. “Charlotte, there’s someone here to see you.”
“Who is it?”
“His name is Steven, and he wants to talk to you.”
“I’m coming.” Charlotte reluctantly went down stairs and into the living room.
Her aunt was seated on the couch next a man who she assumed to be Steven. Charlotte sat in a chair across from them; putting her arms on the armrests as if it were a throne.
“Charlotte is it?”
“Yes.”
“Your aunt has been telling me about you. That you have powers.”
“Yes.”
“What sort of things can you do?”
“Well…” Charlotte walked over to her aunt, who had a cut on her finger from slicing vegetables earlier that day, and wrapped her and around the injured finger. Charlotte flinched a little and let go. Where the cut had been on her aunt’s finger now looked as though it had never been cut. “I can also hear the thoughts of other people, but not clearly unless they’re directed towards me, and I was told today I’m external.”
Steven leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Why does your hair change colour?”
Charlotte looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
That’s how I found you. I saw you running down the street, but your hair was blood red.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t remember how I got home.” Charlotte said in a defensive tone as she sat back in the chair.
“I can help you. I can teach you how to use your gifts.” Steven said as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.
Charlotte looked at him suspiciously. “How?”
“I have powers too.” As he spoke the chair Charlotte was in began to rise. She was frightened at first, but knew that if he wanted to hurt her he wouldn’t be offering to teach her. “I am the bishop of the red hellfire court. I’ll need you to come with me so I can teach you.”
Charlotte looked into his blue eyes and something told her to trust him.
They all spent the next hour or so discussing the courts and how he intended to train her. Steven said he would be back in a few days, after making arrangements with the other members of the court, to come and get her. Charlotte spent this time packing her things and trying to figure out why he thought she had had red hair.
Steven came back just as he said he would and helped Charlotte put her things in the car. “How long is where we’re going from here?”
“It’s rather far.” He said shutting the trunk. “But before we really get going we have to stop for ice cream.”
