Pieces are falling into place! Next chapter will be in Thranduil's pov.
Milana's POV:
Everything was on fire.
I watched in horror as my light pink curtains caught in flame and my collection of stuffed toys burned until they were nothing but ashes.
I screamed when the flames spread to my paralyzed form laying on my twin-sized princess comforter.
I cried out in fear when the fire only tickled my legs and I raised my hands out of instinct to protect my face from being burned.
A sudden ,small, burst of bright red flame shot from my palm and obliterated my far bedroom wall.
"Daddy! Mommy! Help!"
My tiny hands were fisted into tight little balls as I wrapped my arms around my shaking legs, curling up into a ball.
Tears poured down my four-year-old cheeks and the thick smell of smoke and burning wood filled my nostrils.
What was happening?
How did my room catch on fire?
In the next instant, my bedroom door went flying right off its hinges and straight through my window as daddy barged into the room and scooped me up.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I buried my face into his solid chest, my tiny hands fisting his blue polo shirt.
I didn't know how we went from being in my blistering room one second to being outside on the street, twenty blocks down from our house in he next second.
Daddy and I watched as the rest of our house burst into flames and we didn't follow the fire truck when it sped past us thirty minutes later, its sirens blaring for all to hear.
I looked up at daddy to find his once cool chocolate brown eyes were now a hard amber, and his square jaw was clenched.
"Daddy? Why is our house on fire?"
It was as if my toddler voice had broken him out of some sort of spell, for his jaw unclenched and his eyes softened as they took in my still shaking form with silent tears streaming down my face.
He sat us down on the curb before bringing a large finger up to my cheeks to gently wipe away my stray tears.
"It was an accident, Mili', nothing more. A wire must've sparked somewhere and caused the fire to start."
At the tender age of four, I desperately wanted to believe him, but my mind kept replaying the single image of that fireball coming from my hands.
"Daddy. Is something wrong with me?"
Daddy pulled me into his arms so I couldn't see his eyes , and gently soothed me by rubbing small circles on my back.
"No, baby girl. You're very special.Just like me. And there's nothing wrong with that."
I only nodded into his chest and could already feel myself falling asleep from all the stress and panic I had just experienced.
This memory already fading into nothing more than a buried nightmare.
**********************************
The shouts of "fight!Fight!Fight!" could be heard all over the playground at Brandenbatt Elementary School.
But the boy who was currently shoving me around the makeshift circle of sixth grade onlookers seemed oblivious to the growing crowd.
He only wanted to watch me cry and cower away from him as he laughed in victory.
"I saw what you did in the hallway! And it's no wonder that you don't have any friends. No one wants to hang around a freak like you!"
My heart stopped beating for a second.
He knew. He saw.
What am I supposed to do now?
I felt scared and frustrated at what was happening, not completely sure on what the outcome would be in the end.
All I knew was that I didn't want to hurt anybody.
I was only an eleven year old girl.
A girl with fire in her blood.
Finally, when the recess bell rang, the crowd dispersed , but the boy remained a few minutes longer.
"You're a freak who has no daddy. I bet your mommy slept around a lot and can't even remember which man she had you with. Pathetic."
He turned to go but he didn't get very far before something came shooting out of my palm and hit him square in the back.
He screamed and fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
I stood there, frozen in shock before the sounds of running footsteps and voices could be heard getting closer and closer.
I did the only thing I could do at the time.
I ran.
*******************************
"Mommy, why are we here? I thought we were going to see Auntie Jane."
My twelve year old self was getting ansy as I followed my mother to the run-down two story house, tucked into a small nook of the woods somewhere in northern Arizona.
"She moved, sweety. She lives here now."
Confused, I asked, "why?"
My mother stopped and turned to me with a smile on her face and a haunted look in her eye.
"She prefers to live in a place where there are no busy bodies around to distract her from her work."
Now slightly curious, I sped up my lagging pace to keep up with my speed-walking mother to ask my next question.
"What kind of work? She used to just sit around and watch tv when we came over. I thought she didn't even have a job."
"Oh , she does side jobs of all kinds, here and there. She's a ....doctor.. of sorts. She has her own healing methods that she's very proud of, but she won't show it to others."
"She should work in a hospital if she's such a good healer and live in a nicer house than this rat-infested-"
"Milana Hope Cartwright! I will not have my daughter speak so poorly of someone's living abode.
I would advise you to stop slouching and to stop your incessant bickering. You will put on a smile for your aunt and behave, no sass talk, young lady."
Lowering my head in silent shame, I obeyed my mother as we walked up the rickety porch steps in silence and waited once I knocked loudly on the peeling white door.
"Mommy , why are we here anyway? We never visited Auntie Jane twice in the same month before."
I didn't notice how my mother's posture became stiffer and her hand clutching her purse began to shake slightly, her knuckles turning white.
"We need her help, Milana. Very badly."
My eyes were too focused on the woman in front of us to see how my mother's eyes became glazed over for a few seconds before returning to their normal hazel green.
Auntie Jane was a voluptuous woman who wore heavy makeup and had crazy, dark curls framing her rosy cheeks.
Her hazel blue eyes were bright and I could clearly see deep laughter lines on her face.
She was only six years older than my mother who had just turned forty-two back in April.
"Well, are you two going to stand there like corpses or come in?"
Awkwardly we exchanged hugs before we were ushered inside and into the living room.
I took a seat on a lumpy, pasty yellow couch, while my mother and Auntie Jane sat right next to each other on the opposite couch.
The whole room was dark and the fragrance of lavender incense was heavy on the air.
Auntie Jane turned to my mother with an almost sorrowful expression.
Why would she be sad ,though?
"It happened again, didn't it." It was a statement, not a question.
What is the 'it' she's referring to?
"Within the same year. Her episodes are becoming more frequent. Please, you have to erase them."
Auntie Jane only raised one arched eyebrow at my mother before turning her full attention on me.
"Come here, child. Let Auntie Jane see how you've grown."
Obediently, I stood up and made my around the ancient oakwood table covered in all sorts of dried liquid stains.
Auntie Jane snatched my hands with her meaty ones and began to examine me from head to toe with her criticising gaze.
After a few moments of silence, she spoke to my mother.
"Hmmmmm.... you've chosen the memories?"
There was a shaky 'yes' from my mother.
"Very well. Let me see what I can do."
In the next instant, Auntie Jane waved her hand in front of my face and my world faded into darkness.
I embraced it wholeheartedly.