Zuria's P.O.V
Her heart trembled, her soul utterly broken. Worse yet, she couldn't run. It felt as though, if she stepped back, everything she had done to create this role would have been for nothing. She took deep breaths; she knew what was coming. If she had only listened, she would have known the devil exists. If she had listened, she wouldn't have fallen into his simple grasp.
A hedge of fire speared from her fingertips, and she stepped back. She was completely out of control. She heard cries, accompanied by the putrid stench of flesh burning off the bone. Her back bumped into something hard—a wall. Feeling the rigidity of a chest, she realized it was a dead man. She turned to run but was dragged back by her hair.
The pain made the burn of her tears feel painfully real. She was being dragged so roughly that she swore a headache was brewing. In that moment, she wanted to plead for mercy, but she knew that would only give the monsters more power. She couldn't afford to lose this fight, but the monsters were too many.
She was tossed against a rough, sketchy wall, her head slamming onto its jagged surface before her body fell to the ground. She heard the slam of a door behind her, sealing her in a prison of despair. With no food, no water, and new ideas of how truly demonic beings could appear, she felt the self-righteous call of her power itching at her fingertips. She tasted blood, and in the next moment—nothing.
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Zoe's P.O.V
Many tragic days dragged on since my mother died. "Heart attack," the doctors said, after hours of me anxiously pacing and burning a trail in the hospital hallway. I broke down into mindless sobs, over and over, a worried mess. My faith wavered, breaking the laws of logic. Tears flowed uncontrollably.
When the day finally came, I was oddly unsurprised. She was dead long before the doctors could announce the abnormalities that led to her passing, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Even though I was lost in the fog of grief, I noticed the warm hand and strong, steady presence that shadowed my sorrow, offering comfort. Bernard Coal, my father, never left my side. Staying together through the hardest time of our lives made a difference in how we coped with her loss. Dad's promise to protect me brought solace to the fiery storm in my mind.
Now, after his passing, many unforgettable days later, I resolved not to let depression consume my life any longer.
Carrying breakfast in hand, I padded into my father's bedroom. Gently pushing the door open with my side, I entered the large, dim room, careful not to wake him. I carried a tray of cinnamon-flavored oatmeal, a bagel with whipped butter and low-fat cream, and set it down with a silent smile.
I dragged the curtains open, letting sunlight destroy the looming darkness in the room. I waited for him to wake up and see my effort. Dad was always proud of the little things I did, and I was sure this gesture would brighten his day.
Turning to his peaceful form, I smiled and approached him, holding his vitamins. I lightly touched his chest, expecting him to stir. But his chest was impossibly still. Panic surged as I shook him.
"Dad, wake up! Daddy, get up! Please, don't leave me too! Daddy, wake up!"
I broke down completely, sobbing and screaming as numbing pain rocked me. Memories came rushing back.
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Flashback
"My dear granddaughter, everything in nature has energy. All living things possess elements—a powerful, pulsing energy," Nena had said one beautiful spring day during a family picnic.
She and I had slipped away, giggling, leaving Mom and Dad alone. We found an empty space where flowers bloomed perfectly, the grass was lush, and the trees seemed to hold hands in unity. Nena plucked a brittle, dying flower and cupped it in her hands. She didn't even touch it; she simply smiled at me.
"You can absorb energy from living organisms and learn to use it," she said.
Raising her hand, she drew a sliver of life from a nearby flower. Instantly, its color returned to each petal. Magic.
"See? I only took enough to help it bloom like the others," she explained.
Wide-eyed, I knelt beside her, awestruck.
"Nena, where does energy come from?" I asked.
She laughed, her mirth infectious, making me giggle along with her.
"Pumpkin, do you know what your name means?"
I shook my head, wondering about its significance.
"Life. Your name means life, and life is all around you."
She held my hand, and my eyes burned with the sight of colors pulsing—a new world of possibilities.
"Energy can come from flowers, grass, even insects," she said, pointing at the vibrant meadow.
"Trees, butterflies, even bees," she added, creating drifting images that entranced me.
"And our largest source of energy comes from the sun."
We danced around together before rejoining my parents, the memory of that day now etched into my soul.
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Two Months Later
"Zoey!"
I turned to see one of my best friends, Jordan Marks, charging toward me for a hug. We were in our final year of high school.
"Girl, how have you been? Taylor's is a miserable wreck without you," she said.
Jordan was the quintessential prom queen: tall, slender, with beautiful brunette hair and striking brown eyes. She was the girl every girl wanted to be and every guy wanted to date. Yet, she chose to hang out with Tay and me, never making me feel lesser, which is why I adored her.
"Hey, Jay. After being confined at home for a month, I figured it was time to venture out, finish school, and wait for the next adventure,"
I said try to not let my misery mess become contagious besides she has to finish school since education was the most important value her parents instilled in her. She is definitely is the furthest thing from being the brightest student but she's done enough to scathe by with a B+ average.
Her friends grin widened, and for the first time in months, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could piece myself back together.