You could feel it in your chest, bubbling up to the surface. Your anger was taking over your body. You began to shake uncontrollably, rage showing its ugly head to the man sitting in your living room.
“What did you just call me?” your voice was deadly quiet, like steel. You struggled to keep your anger at bay.
“I. Called. You. A. Bitch.” You couldn’t believe you had loved this man once.
“So I’m a bitch because you slept around and got some chick pregnant.” Your voice could freeze the sun.
“I don’t have to listen to this.” Your now ex-boyfriend stood up. You stood up as well, reaching for his arm. Why did you reach for his arm? You had no idea, but it was like an uncontrollable impulse.
“Get off me.” He was yelling. A stillness crept over you, and you didn’t let go.
“I am not done talking to you.” Your voice was barely a whisper.
“I said get off.”
His hand flew out and you felt it make contact with your cheek. You fell backwards into the couch, your cheek stinging. The anger in your chest roared.
You stood, not really seeing what was happening anymore. Wind whipped through your hair, wrapping itself around your body. And then the vase that normally resided on your table was floating. You looked at it calmly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
You knew exactly what to do. It was natural, like riding a bike. You simply looked at the man before you, and the vase lunged at him, smashing into the wall a few centimeters away from his head.
He looked at you in horror. He looked at your glimmering blood red eyes, and you saw fear rip through him. Then he as running, struggling with the lock on the door, and he bolted out, looking back in fear.
You watched him without really caring what he was doing, as if you weren’t really involved. You liked the fear he had of you. It made you feel powerful.
It was almost as if you woke up. The wind stopped, and the reality of what you had just done hit you. Had you just made a vase fly? Had you attacked your ex with it? What? That wasn’t possible. But there it was, the shards of the vase on the floor.
You knew. Deep in your being you knew you had moved that vase without touching it. You were confused, amazed, but not scared. It was as if know that you thought about it, you had always known you could do it.
You dropped onto the couch, and then glanced at the open door. It glided easily shut with a small click, blocking off the sunlight that had been streaming into your apartment. Silence enveloped you. You didn’t know how long you’d sat there. It could’ve been days, or minutes.
You took a sharp breath into the silence, feeling the need to break the quiet. Could you even really control it? You looked at the fire place and thought Fire. A fire roared to life in the grate, flooding the room with heat.
You blinked and the fire died, mild shock running through your veins. So what were you? Telekinetic? Psychic? What else could you do? Were you dangerous?
You jumped and sucked in your breathe as someone began pounding on your front door. You stood up shakily and grabbed the table for support. You didn’t trust your legs yet. You slowly made your way to the door, your heart beating in time with the knocking. You opened the door, and sighed in relief when you saw your friend Arthur standing there.
“(Name)? Are you all right?” His English accent calmed your nerves as you nodded. You stepped aside and let him in.
Arthur froze. He knew that feeling. He got it whenever someone had used magic recently. A shiver ran down his back. He had suspected something. He had guessed that you might have… abilities. But what had you done?
“(Name), what did you do?”