A monster, a heathen, a fixed point in time of something that should be evil. There was nothing specific or special about her. Even if claimed, she couldn't bring herself to believe it. Just a person that was forced to handle situations, people, in ways that others weren't. But that didn't help her in where she should have learned. To better facilitate a real understanding of emotions outside of the ones she had to work with. An act of empathy rather than sympathy. To keep herself safe, as far as any plausible breakdown or emotional strain that could come with it all. To be an internal wall from what she was having to see and not be bothered by, as a child on through her adult years.
The strain of it all, it pushed, pulled at her from her insides outward. The way her body wanted to change, to force itself beyond her own control, because of her own feelings. A call of arms, to duty, to handle whatever it was and be more true to the present moment. For her own inner desires to make themselves known and allow her to be this thing, this person, this cruel thing. Extra eyes, skin changes, the world of difference here.
She held it though, pushed it back. Kept it at bay, but for how long? She didn't know. The words were a source of aggravation, making it harder to do so. Even with the information on how to better handle all of this, memories flickering through at the oddest times. Memories that she didn't always understand, but came to gain some form of a catch 22, as she realized what meant what. Scrubbing her face with her hands, her temples rubbed before she typed the words. Spoken as she did so. "Don't set me off." If she was going to be pushed, lashed out at, don't use things that would push at her emotions. There was even a please that rushed through thought, but nowhere else. She didn't want to think about parents, they were another issue. A source of things she had already gone through, and had another set to think about. Terrifying things that should have created more fear than it did. Just hurt, pain, of things she couldn't have or change. Of someone that did want her, someone that kept her and took care of her the way it should have been. The way it should have stayed.
But it was taken as a threat, and not what she was trying to make a point to put across. She didn't want to explain, that only made her weaker. To tell people more things where they didn't need it. To become someone that was nothing but a plague. She didn't want to be this, and gaining help from people was pointless. There was nothing anyone could really give and everyone ended up lacking in so many ways. She was nothing but her father's daughter. That's how it worked, wasn't it? She knew that feeling. To be looked at that way. Nothing but some evil little being with no real emotions or feelings. No real love, just hate and disgust. All while people pretended to know and understand.
She hadn't moved yet. So many boxes and packing still in the process. If anyone was going to understand, it would be the one person that bothered. That held some mutual understanding in personality and thought. Her body was changing the more as everything went on. The feeling in her stomach as she was sure of who knew her secret. Of what kind of person she would forever be taken for and seen as. Judgement and stereotypes. She was nothing.
"Just Rachel problems. Who gives a fuck anyway?" The words repeated in her head before making an escape past her lips and through her fingers. Her hands moving to her scalp, eyes in her palms as she suffered to calm herself, to garner better control. Fingers digging into flesh as she scratched at it all. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to tug and pull, to feel something outside of herself. Body hovering, breathing deeper, as the shadows came to her own call. This wasn't where she wanted to be. It was like a domino effect, spiraling into a life she didn't want. A person that just wanted to be let free. She needed to leave. To hold onto something real before her sense of reality broke again. The way she separated from herself, the way her thoughts ran on their own accord.
Being feared wasn't really a way of life. Being unwanted wasn't the way anyone actually wanted to be. Being accepted and loved for who you are or were was about the most difficult path to take, but it was the only thing that could ever be craved. And in the end, she only ever felt like she could gain it in one place. Because that was the one place to gain peace. No matter what she feared, believed could come of it, she was shown otherwise.
It was as if she were in a living nightmare. The kind you would watch in a movie late at night. Where the girl would flicker back and forth while watching herself in the mirror. See herself, see a demon. Back and forth, back and forth, much like the way she was rocking herself. The way her life was being held by a thread. What she wanted, what she could do. One part of her wanting nothing more than to be normal. To never use one of her newfound abilities as a way to strike out and be that person she felt she was found to be. That thought and misconception. Yes, she did willingly toss out threats, but not like that. Yes, she did these things, but not like that. This wasn't her, wasn't who she was. A real sin had to be committed against her. Less to someone she cared about, but it had to be a large, major issue before she willingly put her own energy into attempting to hurt someone. And if you were going to throw out a threat, that was the direction.
There had been a few tossed out in warning, when she wasn't herself. It was more in a power struggle with her own self and the pain that came with everything she was going through. That wasn't the same thing. This wasn't the same. Attempt made, weakness shown, and it wasn't going to be changed. A reflection of knowledge passed and known. Memories playing benefactor.
Everything moved to get worse before better. Laughter pouring out of her, every muscle feeling wracked, as she fought off whatever she was feeling. Memories still giving her a map, but not the actual knowledge in what to do. She grew up differently, she held another lifestyle. Thoughts and perceptions were shifted. The world trickled into its own existence, as her own emotions began to harden again.
Closing each of what flickered into her many eyes, her head hurt, but she felt what was needed. The core of it, as she pushed, forced what pain she felt down. Her breathing slowing, as if she may as well have been suffocating herself. Choking on it, rather than allowing it the stranglehold of coming back up. Deeper and deeper still. Unleashing what she held only made this worse. It had to be bottled, pushed down. That's what the memories taught. Emotionless. Learn to let it go. Don't feel. Become empty and let go of those cravings. She still longed for something, to reach out, to want more. But right now, she needed to fix this. There was no getting out like this, not the way she wanted. Pain would just lead to more pain. Leaving herself, going away, it wasn't the same. Nothing was going to get past her, even if this felt more like she was stuffing a suitcase that could not be closed. Whatever pushed out, trying to pour out, unwilling to go. She just beat it back more.
But the more she was able to let go, the more she was able to quench the rage, to push others away, she was able to hold it back. No one needed her and she didn't need them. It was better that way. A thought she struggled with before too. Because she did have wants. They just weren't worth the trouble she knew would come of them. The pain that was to come from it all like it did tonight or previous ones. There was a sensitivity there, but it was for a reason. Judgement. Did she not judge herself harshly enough?
She didn't want to be alone, but it was for the best. She didn't want to be a burden, but this was for the best. When she was better, she would go. It wouldn't be out of some sick need. It would be because she wanted to. A reward for getting past this, through it without needing that crutch. No one deserved to be that. No one deserved to be the barrier of her secrets. Some choices, she didn't get to make, but this was where she did. She would hold strong. There was no other way. If she didn't, it would all fall down.
The darkness followed it all. The pigment of her flesh, it all followed. The way that the world spun, it continued on, rather than freezing in a time and place, without causing her grief and creating a level of exhaustion in her. But that didn't stop her from being tired. Much like a swimmer who had been in the depth of it all, on their last battle with the oxygen coming through, pushing their body to the surface as best as they could manage without pressure being an issue. Not even relief was allowed, as it all needed to be away from her. Numb, from the core, as the rest was no longer a thought in her head. She didn't want to worry about what sort of looks she could gain. Having powers and abilities were one thing, especially when most people you knew somehow managed to have at least one thing to themselves they were struggling with. It was another thing entirely to be found out to be some sort of demon, even though it was only half.
No matter what sort of good she would try to do, it would be seen as something else. Someone to scare children with. The monster under their bed, all because she held a belief in the darkness. The acceptance that came with that, even though she had feared it when it found her. The way she was able to drift off with it all, to become something so much like herself in it. There was a beauty about it, not in the manipulation of it, but the draw. And now, all she could think was if that draw was only due to the demon in her. If this wasn't all part of it and it was there all this time. Past lives, its what he said. The holder of secrets.
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." The quote, the lyrics, they held true to some sense. It wasn't as if she didn't lie, she knew how. There was nothing hypocritical in that portion of it all, but there was something else there. About the want, to know what could be understood and she couldn't help but strongly believe there was a strong withholding. Peeking into minds, it was an art, a science. She wasn't so great at it, but she was learning. But she didn't want to do that, because you just didn't know what you would find flicking through the book of someone's mind. The images, pictures, thoughts, words, that could never be unheard, unspoken. Lives that weren't her own, but could still be changed, manipulated. No one she wanted to play with like that. There was a different side to her, that wanted out, but it wasn't the demon. It was her. Temptations upon temptation, what the human body came up with in ideals. How people could change and power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
She wouldn't be what they all would believe her to be. This wasn't the person she wanted to be, the one that she remembered being. It didn't matter if they weren't her memories. There was a mother there, the kind that wanted to be there for her. Another that treated her as if she were her own. Being her teacher, guiding her through everything in this place. Teaching her about a life that should be best lived, for the sake and safety of all others. She was good, even if she didn't want to believe it. Because then there would be expectations. To be someone that was sunshine and light. Bright and shining without care or the ability to move beyond the superficial. Because these were all things that people acting like were true and she didn't want that. There was no want for any of this either.
Her feet touched the floor, carpet some against the souls, as her body stood as if nothing happened. The darkness evaporating, going back to wince it came. Places, spots, thoughts that it didn't need to be called upon. Brown eyes staring at the windows across from her, questioning if she shouldn't just tempt fate this one time. To allow herself to divulge in the usefulness of this all, even if it were just this one time. Her body moving towards it, even in her current state of dress. Pajamas, leaving her open in a sleeveless shirt and shorts.
Opening it as wide as she could, the slight wind allowing her hair to fall and frame her face as she stared out into the darkness. The call of it now to her, rather than her to it. Her feet moving to step through the window, before taking that leap. Gaze left on the moon, as she moved to reach out for it even as she wouldn't come near to touching it before the free fall that came.