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The Foreigner Chapter 2: And the Storm Raged

Anya’s POV

Weather Manipulation.

That’s my cursed technique. My father used to believe that it was a gift, but shortly after my 10th birthday his view point changed. My father began to see me as a demon, some demonic abomination of some sorts. He would say repeatedly after my mother died that I was a monster and that he no longer wanted me. I guess his thoughts were warranted since I was the one that killed my mother. 

It was an accident.

- 5 years ago-

  My mother and I were arguing about the manifestation of my cursed abilities and me “attempting” to try to ignore the curses that I saw on a daily basis.

  “How can I ignore them?” I asked incredulously. 

    “Don’t look at them. The less you look at them, the less likely you are to interact with them. The less interaction the less problems you will have. You’ll be normal.” 

“It’s not that simple! How can I just ignore these things that are wrapped around people?” 

“THIS IS NOT UP FOR DISCUSSION!” screamed my mother. “You will do this! Do you know what will happen if you keep messing with these curses? How will your Father and I protect ourselves? You’re selfish! You know that curses are attracted to stronger cursed energies. Your bringing these curses to our front door!”

I was fuming, Me? ME Selfish? 

I was trying to help people. I was trying to save them, make their lives easier even. How could she say this?

 Amongst the fury and anger that I was feeling, I didn’t notice the shift in the atmosphere. Outside, the clouds aggregated in the sky and the sky darkened drastically. As my temper grew, so did the color saturation of the sky and the ring of thunder growing ever present. 

“ I am not selfish. I want to help!” I spat back at my mother between clenched teeth. 

“YOU WILL NOT! I promised to protect you from this life and all you want to do is run head first into it,”  my mother yelled, eyes blazing with a passion that I have never seen before. My mother used to be a window before meeting and marrying my father. She taught me everything there was to know about cursed spirits since I could see them. She once stated that she wished I never developed this ability, and hoped I’d be more like my father, a non- sorcerer. I never understood why she would give it all up. Helping people, protecting them, being good.  This only served to anger me more. Why couldn’t she see that I just wanted to help. To be good too.

 The storm outside was mirroring the storm that ragged inside the kitchen between mother and daughter. 

“This is a part of me. I can not ignore or hide from it. Mom, I don’t want to fight with you, but my mind is made up,” I stated tensely. 

“I can not accept this.”

“If you can not accept this, then how can you accept me,” I asked challenging my mother’s previous statement. 

My mother, eyes wide, hesitated before whispering out two words that shattered my whole world.

“I can’t.”

Tears welled in my eyes and I let out an agonizing sob.

Lightning struck down the house.