For some reason, and I didn't know why, I smiled happily. Something came over me, and a bright beaming smile radiated from my previously distraught face. I sat up in my bed, placing the box on my nightstand again, then looked at myself on the edge of the bed into a mirror. The necklace was quite nice. Detailed and beautiful yet, strange. The necklace was a different look on me, the jewel dangled off my left ear making the side of my head heavier than the other a bit. My clothes stood out though. The white tank top was all un-smooth and wrinkled, while the gray pants were getting holes. I truly looked like a hobo in every definition of the word.
I expected my sister to be awake already. She tends to leave the house on a walk when she wakes up on Saturday's and Sunday's, a way for her to get a breathe of fresh air. That thought made me remember it was in fact a Saturday, and with that in mind, I could find something to do with my unoccupied time. Perhaps something with my girlfriend.
My hair shagged in my eye as I stood up from the edge of the bed. A thin, messy, dark brown color, almost black hair. Though kept somewhat unkempt, it looked good in a sense, almost punk. Medium length, it could reach the bottom of my neck it straightened or combed. The mess covered my ears as well, making the sides of my neck hard to see. I soon picked out a white t-shirt, and a pair of ratty jeans, I left the room, heading to the kitchen.
As I expected, my sister was still outside, doing whatever she was doing. Her shoes were gone and she was no where to be found. The only living, moving things in this house were myself, and those 'things' called legal parents, sitting carelessly at the table. My mother never had much going for her. Her hair was so thin, it is like looking at a ghost. Her hair was a bleach blonde, long and straight, but her face and body were nothing worth mentioning about. Her face was sloppy with bags underneath her eyes. Her bags under her eyes even had bags, giving an extremely unappealing look to anyone, even a hobo whom she walked past. Her arms, like her hair, were extremely thin. It almost seemed to be that it was skin attached to her bones, no fat or muscle in-between, while her legs were the same way. That lady in the house, my mother, often wore hooded jackets and long pants. She often complained about things being too cold, but with the thin anorexic body she has, I could understand why she think that. How I was related to her, I dare not ask how.
My father, on the other hand, had something else going for him. Though his hair had been suffering in recent years, it was noticeable there had been something there before. His hair was black, curly, but thick. His face was enough to make a grown man cower in front of him. My fathers face was stern, rock hard, and well built. A square chin, a forehead flat as a stone, and a deep gaze from the back his head where his eyes dwelled, this man was not to be fooled with. He often wore jackets and plain color shirts with blue jeans, a common looking man to say the least.
My father had his seat scooted back from the table, his back against the chair. His left leg hung out of the table while the other laid under the table. A sloppy way to sit i must say, but from a sloppy man, it was expected. He was reading the newspaper, obviously, since the paper was help up directly in front of his face. My mother, being the woman she is, was painting her dead, indecent nails, only giving me a cold stare as I walked past her. Likewise, I gave a cold stare back.
I heard the tv in the background. The news without a doubt had been on. News reporters were talking, music was playing at the switch of each stories, announcers explaining new stories. As I expected however, the hospital came up, talking about the attack I was in.
"Like any other person, I take it you watched it?" The President eyes gazed down upon me, staring through me again, peering into my thoughts. "Is this why you attacked Marc, and his gang?"
"No. It was later that day, he took my sister from me. Because of him, she couldn't look me in the eyes for a week, maybe even longer, I can't remember. I was so mad at him... I..." I choked on my words again. It wasn't horrible to see, it was gruesome to see, both what he did to my sister, but what ended up being painted on the walls of the old warehouse they took her to was just as sickening.
"And this is why you shot at my men, days after the incident?" He seemed to be somewhat joyous. "It was because of your actions, shooting my men to be specific, that you brought this future on yourself."
I was enraged. Not only did he slander my name on American tv's and radios, slaughtering all self dignity and whatever credibility I had left, he continued to lie in front of my face. I clenched my fists, my uncut fingernails dug into my palms. My heart became heavy, my head felt light, my vision blurred, my blood pumped. I stood up quickly, roaring at the President. "I myself, did not kill your men! You can lie to your people, but you will not lie to me! I now what happened that day and I can tell you I did not kill them!"
"Then who did? They were full of bullet wounds you twit!"
"You can't even compare them to my gun! Besides that, I wasn't the only one with a gun, so did those poorly trained agents!" I thrusted my arm up, pointing at him. Like lighting and thunder, my voice boomed when I began to holler at him. The two soldiers next to me, gripped me tightly, forcefully throwing me down onto the chair I sat in before. One held a gun at my face, the other still has his hand firmly gripped around my arm. My blood boiled, my face stung with anger, my thoughts stirred and with the blink of an eye, I smacked the side of the gun with my hand, the pulling my arm away from the grip of the other. I extended both my hands to my left and right, blasting the two with a strong burst of air, sending the two away from me, then pushing them toward me again, blasting them in the back the same way. With my still extended arms, I grabbed the two by the head as they flew back towards me and threw them into the ground.
Two swords materialized in the air, ominously hovering above the two with the tip of the blade above their heads, both looked exactly the same. One was pitch black from the handle to the blade. A black Satan star dangled by some threads of the handle, emitting vile feelings from it. The second sword seemed to glow radiantly and with angelic voices ringing silently from it. The sword was a heavenly white color from the handle to the tip of the blade as well, with a cross dangling from the handle in the same way as the other sword. The soldiers were either unconscious or stunned, still trying to process everything that had just happened.
"I will not go back on my word of not killing you, but please, watch what you say. your buddies here my pay not be as lucky." I stood coldly between the two men on the ground. My heart was still beating quickly, my hands still wanted to smash something in but I sat instead. "You know, with me staying here and all, I really have benefited from coming here." my words were emotionless, confidence however, was strong in the words. "Because of my stay here, you've actually govern me more time to conquer my powers. Mr. President, do you know how many people you have here exactly at this very moment?"
"Yes, why do you ask?" The President seemed angry, more so at the soldiers than myself. He looked down, to his left, to his right, never laying an eye on me. "There are..."
"A little over three hundred and twenty, correct?" I cut him off, mid sentence. I knew perfectly well how many there were. With my ability to control the air around me, I learned to use it like a sensor of sort. Where ever the air hit, I could make out the basic outline and shape of everything. "And with the snap of a finger, those three hundred lives could end in a single breathe, an explosion of fun will happen then." I ranted on without any emotion still. The same tone, gray and dull, serious and deadly.
I raised my hands to my two swords, and made them disappear. The two blades seemed to vanish like dust in the wind, dissolving from the top to the bottom. As the two swords disappeared just as they mysteriously appeared before, I sat back in my seat with the water bottle in hand. My arms stretched out, resting on the top of the bench., and my legs slouching down to the ground.
"Shall I continue my story again?"
_________________I GOT 'DEM HUMPS.Doctress Who:You can be my Brony bitch ;DDroctress Who:Jas, would you like me to make you a sandwich?
JesusChrist: Well if you insist Jasthn I'll use it with you. Spread them cheeksTragedy_and_Comedy: Jas is about as dangerous as a kitten.Blood Lord:I hit your dog with mah truck. :3Lenore Celestalis:*jumps on your back* weee~Come check out my story in the Literature Thread. Update? It is true!I also doodle quite a lot. Check out my art thread here!