Becoming

Chapter One

     Driving. Just keep driving.

     Even while forcing myself to focus on the freeway ahead, I can see my nervous hands shake spastically as they squeeze the steering wheel. Breath short and limbs cold, I do what I can to pull myself together, but is that even possible at this moment? The first 20 minutes were nothing. Adrenaline and shock made the time blast by, as well as searching for proper exits and such, but now, with only my scared thoughts to keep me company on an impossibly long and straight highway, I enter 'panic mode'.

     I can still feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. It hasn't stopped since I left campus, but there is no way I was pulling it out. What would I say? Who would it be? A friend. Possibly a professor I was close with. Or...my parents. I instantly bore the option out of my mind. The only ones on campus that know my parents are a few pals, and they would never.

     Someone deserves an explaination, but I can't pinpoint who or why. I want to go back. I want to make sure no one was hurt. But I know I can't. They'll do to me what they did to ET and put me in some plastic prison so they can drug me heavily and conduct experiments. No. I had to leave.

     I have to regularly remind myself to slow down, before I just set the car to 'cruise'. Either my life unraveling before my eyes or my new-found boost in strength was producing a speed my little Dodge Intrepid had never experienced. As I pass vehicles, I try to keep the drivers in my peripherals. I expect one of them to recognize me, even though I know that's not possible. It hasn't even been a full half hour yet, there's no way my picture is plastered on the MSN homepage just yet.

     I'm still unsure of my direction. How do I even go about finding a disappearing girl? You can bet she's going to either on the run, like me, or she's still under close lock and key from the press and law enforcement. From Cleveland to Atlanta, it's a good half a day's drive, so eventually, I'll have to stop. Not to mention, I'd be getting there a little after midnight, and then what? I'd have to wait until morning anyway.

     Finally, the vibrating in my jeans seems to have stopped at the moment, so I take the opportunity to slide the phone out of my back pocket and toss it in the backseat. It somehow calms me. My hand loosens around the wheel and I stare at it for a while, wondering if my 'reaction' was brought on by chance or if something triggered it. I didn't want to hit the ground. If I had been given an option to grab something to stop me from falling, I would have, so it must have been by choice. I must have called upon some hidden power inside of me that I never knew I had. Kinda cool to think about. Mostly scary as shit.

     Looking in the rear-view mirror, my eyes have taken on a deep emerald color. Hair matted across my brow, caused from a cold sweat, makes my appearance rough. I comb my bangs down with my fingers and attempt at making it a little more presentable. What I wouldn't do for some gel and a brush right now. I see a deep red color on my white shirt, and glance down to get a nice reminder of the nosebleed less than an hour before, which I'm still foggy of the cause; Either the stress on my body for supplying such power, or the harsh discharge, which sent me flying backward into a brick wall. Either way, this shirt is a goner.

     I feel narcissistic, worrying more about my appearance than my shattered life, but I've always been hoping for something great. Something astounding to shake up my boring home life. I've lived in Ohio for every day of my 24 year old life. That's not true. We took a field trip when I was in 5th grade to a Cider Factory in Pennsylvania and got snowed in. That's it though.

     I came from a close knit family. My parents also grew up in Ohio, so the option to go out of state for school was just obviously ridiculous. My mother, being as overbearing as she possibly could, was always the strong hand in our household. She was the one that woke me up every morning for school and provided a ten o'clock curfew until I graduated. My father, on the other hand, was the good cop, spoiling me in copious amounts and assured that I was happy.