Gifted

Chapter One; Fanning the Flames

"Sam! Get down here!"

"Coming, Mom." I called, but in reality I was doing nothing of the sort.

In reality I was throwing my pencil at the wall and slumping over my science binder, trying to absorb jumbled facts into my brain and make sense of this. I lifted my head after a second and pushed away from my desk, standing and turning to the door. Before I could take a single step, though, Mom's voice shattered the air.

"Samantha Marie I said get down here!"

I winced at her near-scream before answering with one of my own. "I said I'm coming!" The words tore angrily from my throat like shards of broken glass at my mother's overreaction. Couldn't she wait five seconds?

I ran from my room, pounding down the stairs and through the hallway and into the kitchen, where a blurred figure ran at me head-on. I closed my eyes and threw up my hands to protect myself, but two strong hands snaked between them and latched onto my shoulders, turning me so quickly I would've fallen in my socked feet. Then a wall slammed into my back, driving every last breath from my lungs. I tried to suck in air, but my brain was doing a horrible job of telling my lungs to inflate. The second time was better, and after a whopping three breaths I allowed myself to open my eyes. Even then, I couldn't believe the person standing before me. I blinked once, twice, but still the image never changed.

"M-Mom?" I stammered, trembling slightly.

Her hands slid down my shoulders to my upper arms, her nails digging into the skin. I winced and struggled to free myself as pain pierced in, and silently hoped she wouldn't draw blood. That was the last thing I needed, having to explain crescent-shaped scabs on my arms. Yeah, just my suddenly physcopathic mother slamming me into a wall and digging her nails into my arms. No biggie.

"Are you scared yet, Sam?" She asked, her voice taunting me.

"What? Mom, what is this? Why are you..." I trailed off, twisting and struggling in her grip.

This was not normal behavior. This had never happened before in my thirteen years. I couldn't see why on Earth she would suddenly be so horribly angry with me, or why she would hurt me like this. A smack, maybe, when I was younger, but nothing...nothing like this.

"They said...they said it would happen when you turned thirteen...what are you hiding from me, Sam?" She panted, her voice turning to a snarl at the end as her grip tightened.

"Mom! Mom, ow, stop it, I don't know what you're talking about!" I cried. I meant it. I'd turned thirteen a bit over four months ago, why was this happening now?

"They said you were a Gifted...funny little name for a monster." She growled.

"Monster? Mom, wha-"

"Quiet! You know what you are. Show me. Show me what you can do, you awful little witch."

I stopped, a thought sending a shiver down my spine. Apparently, I didn't even have a name anymore. I was a thing, and object, a possesion, no longer a living human being. Wasn't that something...no, I wasn't going to go there. This was my mother. I had to get out of here, and then we could both calm down and figure this out. Maybe. I wriggled around, trying to get a hold of her arms and push her off me.

I finally managed to twist myself around enough to get a hold on her, and all the while she ranted at me, saying witch and monster and Sam and Samantha and once more Gifted. At long last I did it, thrusting my hands up and latching them onto her forearms. My hands grew hot, but I didn't pay much attention, blaming fear and the heat of the moment and her body heat.