Shattered
Copyright 2017 Lynn Ness
PROLOGUE
I am a criminal with superpowers. Well, I haven’t been announced as a criminal yet, but I have, basically, incriminated myself. I don’t know if it is my fault or not because I have been turning things into millions of glass shards before I could talk. I should have learnt how to control that power by now, but I haven’t. Whatever I touch shatters into glass, and on the glass shards shows memories of the person who was once alive. I can shatter many things, except for one material – glass proof materials. Thanks to the geniuses in this world, glass proof gloves were invented. I wear them all the time. Anything that is glass proof, I won’t be able to shatter.
But humans… Are they glass proof? That’s the problem…
PART I
I continue to gaze at my friend, Jasmine, who sits in front of me, talking away about her pointless issues. I pretend to listen to her words while my mind wanders elsewhere. Of all the memories I have witnessed through glass, hers is the one I desire to see. Just imagine what fancy memories she could have. If only I…
No! Don’t! What am I thinking?
I take a sudden breath after mentally scolding myself not to take off my glove. If I pull off my gloves and touch something, it will shatter into a million glass pieces. I have feared this capability throughout my life. It has the power to dominate things… people… kings! It will kill!
“What’s the matter with you?” Jasmine asks when she notices my faraway expression.
I focus on her again, instantly regretting that I have left her attention for a moment. She hates this; she hates being ignored. But sometimes she talks so much that I have to wander off into space. Surely she understands, right?
“Hello?” She waves her hand in front of my face.
I blink a few times and shift in my seat. “I’m listening,” I lie, not wanting her to feel upset.
“No, you’re not,” she says with discontent.
My friend looks hurt. What have I done? Is this my fault?
She then asks the worst question. “Then what did I say?”
Oh, how much I hate it when people ask me that, especially teachers. I’m glad nobody was here to see my humiliation.
“What did I just say?” Jasmine asks more sternly this time. I can tell she is serious. If she weren’t, she would have let this pass by now. This girl tells no jokes.
“I…don’t know,” I respond remorsefully. “I’m sorry.”
Jasmine slams her palm against the desk that separates us. “See?” she exclaims angrily. “You weren’t listening!”
I try to keep my voice composed as I speak, knowing that talking loudly would just make things worse. “I said I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well today.”
“Really? You seemed fine this morning.”
I sigh and lay arms on the table. “I wasn’t feeling bad back then. I am now.”
“Liar!” Jasmine continues to object. I hate it when she gets like this. Why can’t she just let things go?
“Look, I’m sorry. Why are you so angry?”
“I’m angry because you never listen to me!”
“Well it’s not my fault that you talk all day!” I snap, immediately regret it. I cover my mouth with my gloved hands, well aware of what’s coming next.
Jasmine springs up from her chair and storms out of the room.
I anxiously stare as she slams the door shut. What is she going to do now? Tell everyone how mean I was?
I take a deep breath and bury my head in my hands, regretting my words from before. This was not the first time she had stormed out like this. Most of the time she would come back and apologize after thinking about it for a while. But this time I have the sincerest feeling that she will do something horrible. The question is, what is the horrible thing?
I frantically shake my head when this is all in my mind. “No way,” I mumble to myself. “There’s no way she will do this. She’s my friend.”
“Is she?” asks a voice in the corner of the room.
I jerk my head to the direction of the voice. “Brother? How did you get in here?”
I frown when I see my brother standing there, watching me with pride. He constantly looks at me this way when I get ditched or bullied by somebody. My brother has never gone through these problems because he had the mind to deal with it swiftly. I don’t. The way I resolve things is completely different and dangerous. I can’t do it. I won’t.
“You think she is your friend, huh?” my brother says while walking over to my desk. He leans against it and folds his arms together. “Aren’t you going to do something?”
I scowl when I know what he is talking about. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re going to have to if you want this to end.”
I sigh when he has got a point. My brother is in a higher grade than me, but he is much too stubborn to help me out sometimes. When I get bullied, he just stands by and watches. It is as if he wants to see me deal with these things by myself. I can’t do it. I won’t.
“Well?” he asks when he hears no response from me.
“What is there I can do? I’m not like you. This is dangerous for me, for all of us.” I touch my gloved hand. “If someone were to take this off…” I trail off when I don’t want to mention what will happen. One touched without my glove, glass shatters.
“That’s the point.”
“What’s the point?”
“Don’t play dumb. Why don’t you just shatter that so-called friend of yours?”
“For goodness sake, we are in school!”
“So?”
“What do you mean ‘so’?” I ask as if he’s the one who’s dumb. He is dumb. If I shatter somebody in school then everyone will know about it.
“Look, sis, if you want to solve this, you’re going to have to do this on your own. I won’t do anything.”
“How am I supposed to learn if all you do is stand by and do nothing?”
“You don’t have to learn. You know what to do, but you just don’t do it.”
“I’m not going to shatter anyone! Mom and Dad will kill me!”
“Just say it was an accident, stupid.”
“You’re stupid! Ugh!” I hold my forehead when I have had enough with this. Whenever my brother feels threatened, he uses violence and aggression to solve the problem. However, I am not like him. I can control my hostility, but with a little persuasion I can actually be a dangerous weapon – a glassy weapon.
“Do you want to know what she has been doing?” my brother asks in a serene tone this time.
I slowly slide my hand off my face and let it fall down to my side. “Tell me.”
“She’s been spreading rumors about you.”
I frown and look at him. “You have a blunt way of putting things. I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you’d like. I know.”
“You know what?”
“Everything.”
“Everything? Then how come I haven’t heard anything about this? Jasmine never backstabbed me.”
“That’s what you think.” My brother gives me a sly look. “No, that’s what you want to think. She’s two-faced. The moment you turn around, she gossips a whole lot about you. You should’ve heard what she said, hah!”
I huff and lean against the back of the chair when he seems to be enjoying himself. “Are you mocking me? I still don’t believe you.”
My brother grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. “Then I shall prove it to you, foolish sister.”
I try to break free, but his grip is too strong. It is just what I’d expect from someone who has engaged in violence for so long.
“I’ll prove it to you. Let’s go.”
I have no choice but to obey.
I get
dragged to the doorway within seconds. In a way I don’t want to follow. If what my brother says is true, what will I do? I can’t just go around the world, shattering people I don’t like.
My brother stops me in front of the door. “You want to see it, don’t you?”
My heart skips a beat when I know what he is referring to, but I pretend to be oblivious. “See what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me again. You want to see her memories, don’t you? They will be showing on the glass piec–”
“Shut up!”
“The things she talks about with you are interesting, aren’t they? You want to see it for yourself.”
“Your little mind tricks may have worked on me in the past, but it won’t anymore.”
Sometimes I think my brother is trying to turn me into a criminal. Many years ago, he manipulated me into shattering many people he did not like, as well as those I did not like. But the problem was that I actually enjoyed it. I enjoyed watching their memories, their successes and sufferings in life.
“It’s your choice. Don’t blame me for what you do.”
I’ve had many temptations to shatter my brother before, and those feelings return after he said that annoying sentence. He’s right, though. It is my choice. But I can’t help it when my brain falls for every little trick he schemes. I’m not the criminal. He is!
Realizing that I will no longer answer, my brother opens the door and brings me out of the classroom.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he takes me down the stairs of the school. “It’s break time now. She could be anywhere.”
“I know where she goes to backstab you.”
“Where?”
“The cafeteria, where every one of your classmates are.”
The sudden feeling of displeasure hits my heart. Could it be that she sits there to backstab me after all?
As if reading my mind, my brother comforts me in the wickedest way possible. “Don’t worry. Just shatter her and it’ll be the end.”
“Don’t you have some better advice?” I ask angrily when all he thinks about is shattering. “I’m not going to shatter anyone.” I bump into my brother when he comes to a sudden halt. I scowl at him. “And you stopped because…?”
“There.” He points to a table full of my classmates in the cafeteria, and one of them is Jasmine.
My hand automatically moves to cover my mouth.
I feel so betrayed. I feel so angry and…so alone.
“I hope you can believe me a little more now,” my brother says while having a smile of triumph cursed upon his face.
I let my hand fall down to my side, and glare at him. “Take that wicked smile off your face.”
“Then tell me you believe me.”
“Fine, I believe you.”
My brother’s expression changes into a face of empathy. “So what are you going to do now? If she continues to talk this way, you will end up alone. You don’t want that, now do you? You still have another two years left in this school. Can you imagine what it would be like if you were to make enemies now?”
I stay silent, slowly taking in my brother’s words.
He spins me to the direction where Jasmine gossips. “All you need to do is deal with her.”
I stare at Jasmine as she chatters. The moment she mentions my name along with some nasty phrases, I jerk myself out of my brother’s grasp. Anger burns within me. I hesitate for a moment before making a decision. “I’ll do it.”
My brother whispers in my ear, “follow her in the shadows. When she’s alone, do it.”
I no longer have the remorse I felt before. It has exchanged to hatred and desire – the desire to keep my pride from getting ruined by Jasmine, the desire to see her memories. I will see them soon enough. I know I will. It is as my brother said. All I need to do is wait until Jasmine is alone. Until then, I shall watch her commit sin against me.
PART II