Pushed

Chapter 4

Later on that night, a quiet settles down throughout the house. I feel at peace alone, unlike the girls at my school who seem too gregarious to travel far by themselves. I like living on my own- it may not be easy, but it is far better than the alternative.

The other alternative being living back in the city with my parents. I had loved city live...the hustle, the culture, the plethora of thrift stores. But when my abilities started to emerge, my parents became cautious of letting me spend too much time around people. They knew something was different about their little girl, but they didn't want people to know.

So instead, I spent most of my time alone in our roomy apartment. With my parents working most of the time, it was easy to call the pizza shop across the street and Push them into delivering a free pizza whenever I wanted. With an eight year old's morals combined with the freedom an only child often receives, nothing was holding me back from Pushing for what I wanted, whenever I wanted.

Flash forward to when I turned seventeen. Long story short, I had to go. It wasn't safe for my parents to have me around, so I left. Faked my own death and left my parents reeling in shock at the loss of their only daughter. Left them grieving and full of despair, but I made sure they wouldn't go looking for answers. For them, reading the coroner's report on the charred remains of their daughter was enough. After leaving my parents to pick up the remaining pieces of their lives, I moved myself here, to Gravensdale, where I knew I would be safe, where I could blend in- a freak amongst typical folks.

Or so I thought. Nearly a year after I arrived in Gravensdale I find out that Tate Hopkins, the richest and most popular guy in the school, is a Pusher like me. To add to the fire, predictably, Tate doesn't even know he is- he just flaunts his ability around like a schoolboy with a new toy.

Nine chimes of the old grandfather clock in my front hall snap me out of my thoughts. With a sigh, I close my Algebra books and stand up from my desk in my bedroom. Yawning and stretching, I take in my room. Christmas lights hang loosely from the ceiling, giving the room a warm atmosphere. The light purple walls reflect the soft light nicely, while the black curtains and bedspread add an air of gloom and mystery. I walk to my dresser and pull out my Supernatural pajama pants and an old Arctic Monkeys t-shirt.

Across the hall from my room is the bathroom, where I spend most of my mornings. I close the door behind me and strip down to my bra and panties. Looking in the full length mirror on the back of the door, I smile slightly. Although not excessively tall, I do have some height to my frame. Complete with curves, I have a decent body, I have to admit. My flaming red hair fades down towards my tips into a blonde, which I often wear straight with a slight wave to it. My large brown eyes are usually winged with black eyeliner, and my full lips are typically coated with a matte burgundy. Diamond studs decorate the length my ears, and a nose ring on the right side of my nose offsets the beauty mark on the left side of my chin.

The shower warms up while I gather my razor, shaving cream, shampoo and conditioner, and face wash. I step into the shower and stand in the warm flow for a minute before grooming myself.

When I finish my shower I hurriedly change into my pajamas, bringing a blanket and pillows downstairs with me. I set up camp on the couch and pop in a movie- my favorite, Another Earth.

Halfway through the movie my eyes start to get heavy, and my vision starts to blur. Should I do this, I hear in my head. I bolt upright on the couch. The movie didn't say that. Someone outside my house thought it.

Stealthily I creep into the kitchen to lock the back door, and grab a knife from a drawer, staying low to the ground at all times. My grip is firm around the handle, and I comfortably loosen up my wrist, increasing mobility. Just like old times, I grimly say to myself, gritting my teeth and approaching the front door.

A stride away from the door, I reach out towards the antique gold handle. As my fingers lightly brush it, a loud knock startles me, causing my to jump.

"Raven? Raven, are you there? Can I... can I come in?" Tate's nervous voice sounds from behind the heavy door.

Angrily, I suddenly whip open the door. Surprised, Tate takes a step back, eyes wide.

"What do you want." Not a question, a demand.

"I want to talk to you," he says.

"Then talk."

"Can't I... can't I come in?"

With a roll of my eyes, I turn and walk into the living room. Tate hesitates and then follows, gently shutting the door behind him. I sit back down on the couch, pulling the blankets over my crossed legs. He awkwardly stands for a moment or two, before settling down on the armchair across from me, and next to the TV.

"So what do you want to know," I finally ask, after a few minutes of an uncomfortable silence.

"Everything," he immediately says.