Torn in Two (2 page)

    “Yes. I'm in charge and you're locked up now.” Delia's voice said. This was a new and surreal experience, and one I wished I never had to undertake or partake in.

“Well, now you know how I felt for our entire life.” Delia answered my unspoken thoughts.

“How can you hear what I'm thinking?”

“I've spent my entire life perfecting the art of eavesdropping on you. You'll have to figure it out on your own, just like I did.”

The amount of concentration needed to view the outside world was taxing. My skull hurt and I wanted to put my hands on my temples and rub. I watched as we walked out of the bedroom and stopped at the top of the stairs.

Delia leaned a hand on the wall to steady herself, and I knew instinctively it was because she'd never walked before. She'd never controlled our body. She stumbled down the first two steps and then righted herself, making her way down one small step at time, almost as slow as a turtle walks.

She growled low in her throat and I heard her voice, “This is harder than it looked when I watched you. I'm going to need lots more practice.” She punctuated her statement by stomping her foot and crossing her arms over her chest in petulance.

I almost laughed. Then I remember why she’d locked me in my own mental prison, and the chuckle died on my lips.

I tuned into the house and listened as Dad ranted like the deranged lunatic he was. On the rare occasion he wasn't being an asshole, I still despised him. He made my skin crawl. His aura sucked the happiness from mine like a bloated leech in a pond filled with bodies. 

From where we stood, based on the sounds, I figured my parents were in the kitchen. But Delia went left instead of right. The way she walked reminded me of a puppet on a string, flailing her arms and moving her head around. Dancing on her feet. Jumping. Spinning. Then she crouched down and her breath became erratic. She’d become high on the negative emotions running rampant through the house. I sensed the change in her. The way she straightened her spine. The strut she added to her walk. All of a sudden the tension coursing through our body relaxed.

“Ah. Delicious,” she said and then slammed the mental door in my face. She was strong.

Part of me wanted to fling myself onto the bed and cry in hapless tears. The other part of me wanted to fight to stay in contact with the physical world, so I wasn't blind. I didn't want to see, but I needed to know.

I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes, seeking the peaceful moss, soil, flowers, and pure sunshine to aid and guide me. Gram had taught me to utilize the inner beauty and life around me to harness my powers. I didn't fully grasp all the finer details yet, but I was a work in progress, and I would figure out the secrets one day. For now, I’d focus and see what I could do.

I struggled to open my real eyes and see the situation going on in my home. The sensation reminded me of trying to open your eyes under saltwater. It hurts, but it’s feasible. I wouldn't recommend swimming with them open for long periods of time, but there is something to be said for perseverance.

Delia had over sixteen years of practice, patience, and skill under her belt, whereas I was a fish out of water. After I pictured clean running water to wash the filth from my mental windows, I gently pried the blinds up and saw the scene unfold before me.

I didn't want to watch, but I couldn't help it.

My mom's face came into view as Delia knelt before her. A large bruise blossomed across her cheek, blood ran down her nose into her mouth, and tear tracks stained her face. Delia reached out, stroked Mom’s hair, and whispered, “He will pay for this, I promise.”

I nearly wept, but instead bound my emotions up into a tangible quick fire pulse of energy, using it to break free from one of the bonds holding me prisoner. My head didn’t pound nearly so hard. A small win.

Delia lifted up and walked around the house in search of Dad. He lumbered around, breaking glasses, smashing the walls with his fists and fury. Hurling magic through the air and demolishing the furniture. He reeked of desperation, frustrated anger, and something sweeter, a heady sense of power, as if he enjoyed the havoc he wrought.

He raged in the living room, throwing his toxic weight. The proverbial bull in a china shop, slinging black balls of smoking energy across the room, then watching them explode or burn up. His torn pants and the frayed sleeves of his shirt flapped every time he took a step. He was so focused on his mission he didn't even notice us at first.

Delia cleared her throat and said, “Hello, Daddy.”

Alton spun and his eyes bulged. “Cordelia?” he asked as he tilted his head and squinted. “What the fuck are you playing at, girl?”

My body walked closer to him, stalking him without his knowledge, an innate panther grace padded our steps. Delia made a show of inspecting our nails with each casual step and then she shrugged. “I'm not playing. I'm awakened, and you're about to pay for hurting our mother, you decrepit asshole.”

He laughed. Full out, bent over, chortling with every ounce of his weight, with a hand braced on the wall. I watched, and with every breath he inhaled, rage darkened my spirit. He didn’t recognize Delia as the daughter he’d always wanted. Now, he was about to meet his dark progeny and his new worst nightmare.

I decided to retreat and allow Delia free reign. I'd seen enough.

***

“Finally,” I uttered under my breath as I felt Cordy retreat and let go of control. She was stronger than I gave her credit for or even thought possible. I'd have to be careful when I was in charge, and always on guard lest she begin to wrestle me for control. The man before me had dark hair flowing in wavy straggles like he hadn't showered in weeks, and he wore ripped clothing as if he were some vagrant on a street corner. Such a waste. His life-force aura swam with night colors, and I wanted to sip then consume them. His toxic aroma was potent and exhilarating.

“My name is Delia,” I said to his back. He'd turned away when he'd straightened and resumed his destruction of my mother's home.

“I don't care.”

My head shook once, and I opened my arms wide then let them fall to my side. “You should.”

“You're nothing to me. Nothing but a mistake.” He whipped around and hurled an electrified silver ball at me, and I ducked, expecting him to make the obvious move.

Having no formal training, harnessing my own power was difficult, and the dark energy Cordy and I carried inside us lay dormant and unused. She refused to learn or accept our true life, instead trying to focus solely on doing good in the world. And hey, I'm all for balance, but sometimes you need to fight dirty. Sometimes darkness is necessary.

I ran towards the kitchen, hoping he'd follow, and I'd be able to grab a knife. Whether I’d be able to out muscle him was a toss up, but I had to try something. I made it through the entry at the same time he ran through the other doorway, both of us running into the once pristine kitchen at the same time. My mom lay curled on her side by the refrigerator, pressed against the wall.

“Charm, our daughter seems to be under the impression she can kill me,” he wheezed out and laughed again, a big ole smile on his contorted face. He had red pin-prick pupils with a black iris. The look was rather freaky and off-putting.

Mom pulled her knees up closer to her chest and tucked her chin. My arteries drowned in an adrenaline surge at the pitiful sight of her cowling in fear. My hands fisted, my knuckles ghostly white under the strain and pent up anger steadily moving closer to wrath, complete with impending fireworks.

I shifted towards his hate-filled aura, which swam with the murky water of the underworld. “You shouldn't have hurt my mother,” I whispered on a shaky breath. There was something inside me I couldn't name, but the glow infected me with the cloying need for retribution.

After I straightened my spine, I marched to him, not showing a hint of fear because I didn't fear this man any longer, and a coldness swept through my veins. The chill rendered my mind incapable of care for his life, and a thought, well, more a feeling, floated through my head. What I needed to do was suddenly clear. I stood in front of him, his breathing hard from exertion, and stared into his empty eyes.

“You're going to pay, Daddy.”

He leaned forward and invaded my space. “Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it, little girl?”

I envisioned my aura as shiny, solidified silver. Not a mist, but a blade. I honed the edge as I smiled up at him, the quintessential young girl he thought me to be, but he had no idea who I truly was or what I was capable of, and that would be his demise.

“This,” I whispered as I pushed my hand hard against his chest and knocked him against the wall.

He looked stunned for a moment and opened his mouth to speak, but I forced my aura to fuse to his.

Cordy rose to the surface of my thoughts, and for once, she didn't appear scared or wimpy. “Here,” she whispered. “I'll help.” A soft white glow surrounded the grey of my auric knife as I slashed through his shields and invaded his mind and body. Then she turned and walked away with her head down.

The current slammed into me, and my heart thundered in my ears so loud I thought the blood-pumping organ might rip a hole through my chest. I wanted to let go of my father and rub my ribs.

Alton screamed and clutched his head in his hands, grabbing his mop of hair and then yanked viciously. “What the fuck! What are you doing to me? Stop!”

I wrapped my slender hand around his throat and pressed my thumb against his larynx, preventing him from speaking. Nothing but choked breaths made it past his lips as blood dripped down his nose and into his mouth. I was young and strong, stronger than he ever imagined. He might have been powerful once upon a time, but now he was old and decrepit, a shadow of his former self.

Another voice broke through my haze, a weak female shout. “Cordelia? Cordelia, let him go!”

I grunted. “My name is Delia. Your precious Cordy isn’t available right now.”

Mom gasped and muttered under her breath, “Oh no, oh no.”

I refocused my attention on the man I had at my not-so-tender mercy and tuned her out. Now was not a time to show weakness. In my periphery, I saw movement, but I dismissed my mother as a viable threat.

I pushed my energy against his, watching as his colors waned and mine overtook, the combined colors reminded me of thick morning fog. The honed silver blade cut through him like water over hot coals, steam rising from his pores as his armor dissolved and left him drained and ripe for consumption.

My hands shook as his legs gave out, and he sagged down the wall. I let him go as if he were a scorpion that might burn me with its venom. He slumped, his head tilted at an awkward angle, his mouth hanging open. He had a weak pulse, and his skin was a shade of grey. The clammy pallor reminded me of a baby elephant fresh from its mother’s womb.

Mini tremors wracked my system as I crashed from the circuit overload and tried to process all the vile horror I’d absorbed from fusing to his aura. I dropped to my knees and labored to breathe.

My mom crawled over to where my father and I hunched, and tears fell from her eyes. She stared at the blood draining from his ear. “Is he going to die?” she asked with a quiet voice laced with the tension of a small child who had just witnessed a horrific event her mind couldn’t comprehend.

“I don't know.”

My mom reached up, grabbed the counter, and pulled herself up so she stood over me. Suddenly, I felt two inches big, and I wanted to cry. Cordy slowly walked into the back of my mind and put a metaphorical hand on my shoulder. For a moment, a shared pain united us.

To my shock, Mom bent down and roared in my face, "You're a monster!" Her eyes glinted with a damaged and crazed light. "You are unbelievable. Has every word out of your mouth been a lie? A lie upon a lie." My mom shifted her weight from foot to foot then paced away on unsteady legs.

"I'm not a monster," I whispered with a desperation I'd never experienced before. My eyes clenched shut against the glare of the sun filtering through the windows and the truth of her words. They sent shock waves through my haywire system.

"Yes, you are. Only a monster could hurt someone the way you just did. Oh, my goodness, Cordelia! Get out!” She screeched. “I never thought it would happen to you." She turned away and looked out at the deserted road we lived on. “I thought if I showered you with enough light and took the brunt of your father's darkness, you would be free from the other world. But you're just like them.”

“What are you saying, Mom? I protected you. I did what you couldn't!”

“No. All you did was act like an animal.”

“I only did it to save you. How can you call me a monster? I'm your daughter.”

“You aren't my daughter any longer,” she said as she walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone, confused, and with nothing but an ache in my chest where my heart used to be.

I allowed Cordy to resume control and buried myself inside the cold prison of our head. I didn't understand. What had I done wrong?

***

My feet carried me upstairs in a dreamscape. One where my Mom hugged me, thanked me for protecting her, and helped me throw my father out on the curb, back to his cold world, leaving us to live in peace and harmony. Instead, I packed my clothes and shoes, and then walked outside into the sunshine, feeling as if my life were over.