We Love a Tortured Artist - Xavier Thorpe

Explanations

I walked into the diner, the loud bell above the door giving away my presence.

Shirley was behind the counter still, but she looked fresh faced and not as tired as she did last night. I walked up to the counter and took a seat.

"You again?" She asked as she walked up. It wasn't in a mean way, in fact, for some reason she seemed happy to see me.

"Yes, me again. " I smiled at her softly. 

"Well, can I get you anything? Or did you just come to get away?"

"Sort of both. I'll take a coffee, black, but I'm also waiting for someone." I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 8:00 now. I still had about 8 hours until Denis would get here.

"Well your welcome to stay for as long as you need to, dear." She walked away and grabbed the pot of coffee. "You cleaned up... do you mind my asking what happened last night?"

I took a sip of the coffee and looked at her.

"My parents were murdered and my house was burnt down while I was at school." Shirley's mouth dropped open and she turned around. She grabbed the biggest donut out of the display and set it down in front of me.

I almost laughed at this gesture. She seemed like such a sweet lady.

"That's so sad, I'm so sorry." I shrugged and took another sip of the coffee. Her eyes widened.

"You don't seem to be very upset about it." A lump rose in my throat and I looked at her. I could feel my eyes start to gloss over with tears. She looked as though she immediately regretted her words.

"Sometimes, grief shows itself in weird ways." I told her, she nodded softly. "I think I might've cried out all of my tears at this point." 

She patted my hand and left me to myself. I wiped my eyes and pulled out the notebook, turning to the page from before.

I continued to scribble away at the paper, letting my hand roam wherever it needed to.

You're probably wondering what happened back in the Uber, or why I wasn't phased by it, or who I was so good at reading people, or what I am for that matter.

For a long time I wondered that myself.

All of my ancestors were outcasts tracing all the way back to Goody Addams, the so called original freak. My mother told me all about her and what she did, including how she killed a Pilgrim and then founded a school for outcasts: Nevermore Academy.

My parents had wanted to send me there as soon as I turned 13 but at that time I didn't see myself as an outcast and refused to go to a school full of them. 

Closer members in the timeline include my mother, father, uncle and aunt, who oddly enough are all in a way related.

It really is confusing but it's not as bad as it sounds. My aunt and Uncle, Morticia and Gomez, got married. Morticia's sister, my mother Ophelia, fell in love with one of Gomez's brothers Pancho Addams. They married and the four of them became a confusing bundle of Mr. and Mrs. and In-Laws. But it was all legal.

My mother and her sister were psychics, my father and his brother could to many things, but what do you get when you try to pass all of those powers down to one offspring? 

Me, that's what you get.

I don't have a specific name for what I am but it's definitely the coolest thing in my opinion. My mother always called me her little sponge.

Essentially I have power assimilation. I have the ability to detect other peoples powers and absorb them into myself. I can do almost everything, but I wasn't necessarily the best at everything.

I had mastered sucking other peoples powers into myself, but with each power comes a new set of skills I must learn which is why my mother always said that all I had to do was to practice.

She said if I practiced it, it would become my own. 

I had always been worried that I would drain others of their powers if I took them for myself, but that was put out of my mind when my mother explained how it worked. 

They get to keep their powers, they're just sharing a little.

I refocused on my drawing and saw the completed work in front of me. My mother and father were wrapped in each others embrace as they stared off of the paper at me. The black and white image brought tears to my eyes again and I sighed.

However, I was quickly drawn away from another crying jag when I felt a familiar aura enter into the diner. I heard soft footsteps walk up behind me and I saw a shoulder emanating from over my shoulder. I smiled slightly and didn't look up from the paper.

"Hello Denis."

I heard a defeated sigh and smiled wider. He sat next to me and frowned.

"Don't mope..."

He snapped back to his usual goofy self and pulled the donut in front of me towards him. He took a large bite and I sighed.

"How did you get out so early, it's only nine." He shrugged. He had powdered sugar all around his mouth.

"I told my mom I was sick, I just came straight here. I was gonna text you, but then I saw you were already here so, y'know." He explained, and took another huge bite. "So why am I here, why did you dip yesterday?"

I didn't answer him immediately. I closed the notebook and put it into the bag.

"Ophelia?" I looked over at him.

"My parents are dead, my house is burnt to a crisp, and I'm being sent across the country to live with my aunt and uncle who I've never met." 

Denis's eyes went wide and he dropped his donut.

"What the hell..."