Magic Children

Chapter 25 Somewhere in New York-14 years earlier - Sam

Like look in people's heads, for horrible things they've done.

"Sorry," I say, squeezing him around the shoulders as we shift so he can lay his head against my chest.

"Me too," he says, quietly.

If he can look that far back could he find out who my parents were? I know they left me for dead but I'd like to know what they looked like. Or just---who they were. I feel like I deserve to know. Angel has that at least he has the name his mother gave him. At least he knows he played with his sister and ate his mother's cooking which was apparently phenomenal.

I could. If you wanted.

"Why wouldn't I?" I already know they gave me up. Left me wrapped up in an old blanket outside a police station. That's not great. It's not even good. But they didn't actually kill me. I'd just like to see what they did that day. What they thought. Did they feel bad?

It's just. It may be worse than you imagine.

"Did you do it to yourself?" was it something horrible?

No, it doesn't work like that. I remember them enough anyway. They knew I was a mutant. And I turned off the lights and broke electric things like toasters or ovens whenever I had nightmares or got really upset. And after the fifth new toaster and all the lights flashing their nerves were fried and they turned me in. Because they couldn't put up with me.

"I just want to know," I know it might be bad. This is bad. Life is bad.

Okay

My vision clouds black. I realize I am being involved in this and I thought it was going to be him telling me. Apparently not. I can still feel his little hand in mine despite us not being there anymore.

We're in a house, a little one-- an apartment maybe? A girl, woman, girl closer, is wearing a brown dress. She's sitting on a sofa with red eyes. Her hair is messily tied back. She's looking at---me. We're viewing it through my memories of course. I'm sitting on the floor. I'm not a year old. Playing happily with blocks.

The front door clicks. A man steps in.  He's tall and dressed in somewhat dirty clothes. He drops a bag as soon as he gets in. He isn't well shaven and he looks a decent bit older than the woman.

"There's something I've got to tell you," the woman says, looking back at me.

"Can it wait until after I take a shower? Jesus---" he tries to wash his hands but apparently there's something in the sink. "What've you been doing all day?"

"The laundry um---sorry---I need to---" she's clearly freaking out. She keeps glancing at me.

"What's the baby doing up? I thought you said you were gonna put him to bed," the man says. Oh, this man is almost definitely my father. Okay. Yes that would make sense.

"He didn't want to go to bed so he doesn't have to, it's okay Vali don't cry," my mother comes to pick me up, "He doesn't like raised voices." That's my name then. Vali. That's what they called me. What she named me.

"Well, put him in his crib to cry then. Where's your mother?" the man asks. So she isn't my mom, she's my sister? Or she is my mom and this is my grandfather? She does look really young.

"That's---she went out. Out." the girl is obviously lying badly, "Can you just stay here and I talk to you?"

"What is the matter with you? What do you mean out— where is your mother?" he asks, in a bit harsher tone.

"She went out. To the store. And everything is fine let's all just calm down so Vali can go to bed," she says, keeping her tone intentionally light as she rocks me. I'm still crying a bit.