Post by Molly Hunt on Jun 23, 2006 22:54:55 GMT -4
"I hardly believe in fairy tales anymore, Dean Woodman." Molly Hunt sat in the large office occupied by the Dean of the Hawthorne Academy.
"Well you best start, Miss Hunt. You're in one." He smiled at her in that way that only someone who truly understood would.
And Dean Woodman did understand. He had found her, and plucked her out of a misery pit when she had wanted to crawl up in a hole and die. After the collapse of her house, she had fled to the middle of no where, into an abandoned shack. Starving, filthy and tear stained, her had found her and rehabilitated her. Sure, most girls pictured their knight and shining armor as tall dark and handsome, on a white stead, offering them the world. And while the Dean certainly wasn't any of these things, he had offered her something just as valuable to her. Her life back.
Imagine feeling all the guilt of killing the only family you've ever known. When she had first come into her powers of empathy, she was uncontrollable. The pain and anguish of others seeped into her bones, more so than the happiness and glee, causing a pressure to build until she snapped and released a telekinesis and brought her house down. So for someone to tell her she could have a fresh start meant the world to her. He taught her how to control her power, and how to block out people's emotions, as well as search for them.
"Someday, you'll be able to channel other's powers through their emotions." He promised her, assuring her that things would be different.
But it wasn't. She was still a freak amongst freaks for the majority of the time, once people felt violated that someone else could channel their power and read their innermost feelings. She was isolated, except for a few close friends. She had stopped telling people her power, and she had vowed to herself to change, like the dean had said she could. She felt empowered to do so, but at the same time, she felt very vulnerable. It was so easy to succumb to someone else's emotions, and just let them take over. She tried to block out the trivial things, like a tooth ache, or a couple's first kiss. But it was things that made her heart swell that really seeped in. Like pure hatred or true love. Things that made people ache in their very core. Things that made people either crave for or wish they were dead. And by that point, anything Molly truly felt was lost, and instead she was consumed by what other people were feeling.
Which is why Molly was hoarded up in her dorm, coming down from a particularly bad bout of empathy. If she told anyone what had caused her to feel like shit at that particular moment, they would gawk at her and tell her that she was crazy. The dorm next to hers was occupied by too much to control. Teenagers throwing a wild party. There was drugs, alcohol, and sex. Lots of sex. Half the time she felt high and orgasmic due to the emotions seeping through the walls, and the other half of the time she felt angry and violent at some fight going on over who knows what. The wear and tear of this emotional roller coaster ride left her feeling empty, and so she curled herself up in a little ball, holding in the pressures of it all so as not to bring the house down...again. Tears pressed her eyes as she struggled not to release anything, and she finally fell asleep.
She woke up at mid day, the last rays of the sun poring through her window. She had slept half the day away, feeling rejuvenated, thankfully. A full day's sleep is exactly what she had needed to put up with a party as crazy as the one she had not attended. Standing up, she shuffled over to her mirror. Scary. She pulled her hair back in a quick ponytail. Much better. She tossed on a t-shirt and jean shorts. It wasn't often that she left her dorm without her guitar, but today she felt the need to walk, and sort out her own emotions. Figure out who she was. She wasn't really part of any clubs, and she wasn't what you'd call unpopular. She was fairly pretty however, and it was mostly her fault that she remained so isolated. By choice. Not anymore. Recently, she had gotten out more. Like the old Molly. Before she had gotten her powers. Before her best friend dumped her because she didn't want to be labeled "strange" by association.
She had been the epitome of perfection once. Beautiful. Popular. Wanted. Even before she was an empath, she was very empathetic. People came to her with their problems and she listened, even forming an advice column in the school paper "Good Golly Miss Molly" it was called, and she had taken pride in helping others. She had few enemies and was often invited to parties where she would dazzle crowds with her guitar skills. She had only misused alcohol once or twice, out of sheer boredom. The old Molly. It was time to get her back.
Stepping out onto the grounds, she surveyed the area. Very few students were out and about. Practices were over, and most were hanging about their dorm rooms. She was struck with an epiphany that she could do this. She could be normal. Well, as normal as is possible. Her aimless walking had steered her to the soccer field and she slowly climbed the bleachers, watching a girl kick the ball around. She recognized her. She was one of Lainey's friends. One of the well-liked girls at the school. She seemed to at ease with herself, and so sure. Molly admired the fact that she really knew who she was. She only wished that she herself could have that sense of self knowledge. But alas, no.
Slipping into a state of ease, she let herself slip into a habit she really needed to break. She let her guard down. At first, her power seemed to pick up something perfectly normal. Relaxtion and ease. Exactly what she had expected from Xan. But just as she was about to block everything out again, she caught something funny. Like ripples in the water they hit her. Guilt, deception, and then something that caught in her throat. Her inhaled, consumed by a sudden cold, but at the same time she felt she was burning up inside. What was going on? She was picking up vibes of looming danger and uneasiness. Something seriously wasn't right. She looked around nervously. Was someone lurking in the trees near by sending this wave of emotions? Whatever it was it had to stop.
"Stop!" In her state of distress she had actually yelled it out to no one in particular. But it had stopped. She had managed to block out anything she was recieving, and everything was back to normal. Yet she still couldn't shake that odd feeling that something was amiss.
-snicks-
likes that word...amiss.
and yeah, she's seem my lyrics. She actually plays piano with me sometime (she's a freekin teenage prodigy) while I strum my guitar
-nods-
we are quite amazing
-cackles-
not. we're amateurs (well...I am...she's way out of my musical league) and we're perfectly content that way,