Distorted Disposition

Chapter 1 : burnt table cloth

Hastily, I lowered myself into the solid-looking mahogany chair, my slender fingers almost twitched as I tried to hold back from stuffing my face, never had I ever seen this much food in my life! My eyes swept over the silky cream table cloth beautifully embroidered with detailed pink flowers which was laid with heavy metal cutlery and dainty china.

It had been at least 3 months since I had been living here and although I desperately tried not to show it I had yet to become accustomed to how filthy rich this family was. I had been so busy shovelling fork-fulls of mash potatoes into my mouth that I had barely noticed Penelope's scrutinising gaze on me as she watched me eat, her pale face scrunching up in a look of pure disgust.

Scanning the room with my dull grey eyes I soon zoned in to the conversation Mr and Mrs Bradford were having. They were clearly in yet another argument, I had to physically refrain from rolling my eyes at that. "It's all about publicity Fredrick, what the people think" She exclaimed in her piercing, whiny voice. "you think I don't know that?" He slurred swirling the whisky in his glass. It was always the same: she was just worried about the money and he was too drunk to give a shit about anything anymore, even his slowly failing business which was once his only passion in life. I knew I was their charity case, only really there to make them look good: look at us, we took in an orphan, we're such good people. But don't let them fool you; it's what they want you to think. It's all really just a game, and I'm their chess piece, to make them look like perfect, caring people to the press.

I felt bad for Penelope really, she was just as much a part of their little scheme as I was; to help them play happy families. Penelope was horrible to me, but I didn't blame her all she wanted was some attention from her parents who always seemed to forget about her existence.

"Mum"

"Mum" Penelope spoke up in a weak attempt to gain her mother's attention.

"Fredrick! When are you going to start realising..."

"When you stop being a gold-digging whore Catherine!"

Penelope had had it. She banged her fist against the thick, wooden dining table. "She's not normal" My 'sister' pointed and yelled at me forcefully.

My hands began to tremble as they gripped the table cloth, my mind a violent storm of murderous thoughts. My blood boiled and bubbled vigorously, like an evil witch's cauldron.

"I've seen her do things"

The smell of burning silk filled my flared nostrils as the searing heat emanated from my sweaty palms. "She's a freak, and I bet they were too" Burning flames erupted from my hands.

"Y-y-you" All- consuming rage filled my whole being as I lost control and all rational thoughts flew out the window. "bitch!" Two balls of blazing fire escaped from my now extended arms and narrowly missed Penelope's head.

There was a loud clatter as the heavy wooden chair i had been sat on hit the perfectly polished floor. And then there was silence. All arguments, conversation and food forgotten about. The thick blanket of gravely silence continued to swallow the room and I quickly glanced up at my 'sister', unable to look her in the eye. I was done for. They would have to kick me out, I knew it, Penelope had finally gotten what she wanted. She had her chin raised high as her narrowed eyes looked down her long upturned nose and straight at me, looking rather pleased with herself at the palpable tension her confession paired with my sudden outburst had managed to create.

Her shell-shocked parents sat stationary at either end of the much too large, extortionate dining table as they attempted to process the words that had just erupted out of Penelope and the fire balls that had erupted out of me. My 'mother's' fork still suspended half way to her mouth acting as if time itself had just stopped and my 'Father' still drinking his whiskey too drunk to care what had happened; it was all quite comical to me really, in a strange, twisted kind of way.