The Angel within - Nikkie Youngeblood (ebook reader browser .txt) 📗

Charlotte's POV

It usually starts with a morning, where the sunlight paints streaks of red and yellow againts the darkened sky. Those mornings were entirely too beautiful, sealed with reminders that it would be a start of a brand new day. But they were alos ominous; they would open new gates to those rains that would inevitalby ruin your parade. And for me, all those terrible mornings came in the form of reality.

Though, those horrifying day starters would soon come to a halt. By the reckless abandonment of caution and fate, the unwritten story of Charlotte Taken -of me- would soon be told to the world. And of course, it'd all start with a morning.

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We'd often find ourselves pinpointing a person's weakness; putting them in limelight, for all to see. We yearn to put ourselves where we can have a veiw of all those who are below us. It's because we simply have alter-egos. And deep beneath our true facades, we are all destroyers.

Some are hell bent on destroying and undermining your confidence, or at least whatever was left unscathed. They make the actualities of pain seem almost unbearable. And that type of pain made us all cynical. It made us fell worthless.

Though, there are many out there that don't allow the destroyer of themselves to prevail. Instead, they help the hidden diamonds in the rough, gloss them over and make them shine like they once did. These people were meant to fix the fragments of society.

However, I belive people could be a mixture of both; they're an enigma of their own. They possessed the ability to destroy the vulnerable, but can easily fix the brokeness they had created from their latest project.

Throughout my life, I've learned to deal with destroyers. And as the morning sunlight peaked through the ragged curains, I found myself thinking they were practically inescapible. They came in a line, one after the other; side by side. And it seemed as if the fixers would flee at the sight of me, with determination surging through their vains to never cross paths with someone with the likes of me.

The odds were against me. I was forsaken. I was rejected. I was broken to the point where the peices of my original self had gone with the wind.

But, in retrospect, that was okay.

When a shadow casted across my face, i knew something was wrong. It was an instinctive notion that would come across me whenever someone would raid myprivacy in this orphanage. SoI let my eyelids flutter open, and my advanced vision sees right through the fabric of my hood that veils my face.

"Do you think she's awake yet?" Maggie inquired loudly, cat-like eyes skimming across my face. She was exhibiting he familiar behavior, saying everything and anything that slipped through her mind. It didn't matter if the words were razor sharp, what mattered to her was to make sure her opinion cut right through the skin f others.

Her friend, Rachel, who'd gone back to texting after being completely uninterested at the matter at hand glanced down long enough to analyze my figure. She shrugged, averting her gaze towards the screen of her phone once again. "If anything, she's breething too fast for someone who's sleeping."

At that moment, I nearly groaned. It was the multiple reactions, the swift defence the rebuked any quiestion of my being that gave it away. Or perhaps it was Rachel's proffesion of observing. None the less, Maggie's eyes now accessed me like a predator would a prey, vicius and ready at any sign of provocation.

"You know Charlotte," Maggie's lips quirked up into a callous grin, "you could stop now. Your've been caught, red-handed."

I rolled my eyes. After a daunting silence enveloped the room, she kicked me- knocking the wind out of me for only a second. Maggie was never fun to deal with. She was driven by the admiration that was directed towards her by others; it kept her standing. And when it came to putting me down on the ground in order to earn that admiration, she'd do it without a second's hesitation. Rachel, a prime example, had nodded in approval at Maggie's actions. Cosequently, Maggie's eyes gleamed in triumph.

Seemingly groaning, my arm snaked around and closed on my waist, almost as if i was attempting to suppress the pain. "what do you want, Maggie?"

"It's your turn to make breakfast," she replied, narrowing her eyes as if it was the most obvius thing in the world. Her gaze was intense, amost thoughtful, shrewd, like she knew what i was going to say next.

"When is it ever not my turn?"

"Exactly," she retorted, her signature smirk etching her face. "And that's the beauty of it."

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Mornings in the orphanage had always been earily familier - they were like nightmares that come and go, but they'll always leave a mark on your memory. After all, having to man the orphanages chores for almost thirteen years had taught me favorably a lot.

Getting to know the place inside and out was twice-in-one job, I got to know the people. For instance, I was very aware that the owner of the orphanage, Margaret - had wanted nothing to do with the twelve girls who lived in it. Although, still trusted us enough to keep the building standing.

Just as I placed the last remaining plate of food onto the table, the rest of the twelve girls barged into the dining room, their ruckus making me look up. They came in a line and all seemed equally exhausted. Slowly, they all went towards their designated seats, scraping the wooden floor as they did so. Resuming to my normal routine, I fetched a plate of my own but a hand shot out at the last second, the long, skinny fingers slithered across and grasping onto my wrist. I stiffened and begrudgingly gazed up, only to meet Maggie's blank face.

"I'm afraid you'll me eating scraps today," she yanked the plate away. "you'll have to wait until we finish. Then, you'll scavenge for what's left of the food."

My mouth open as I bristled in indignation, nut shut it quickly. Maggie generally had no inhabitions, she never thought to censor whatever she was going to say. And at times like this, there was never time to brace yourself for her infamous verbal attacks. Though, there was nothing but time when it came to the after-math. Civilities were thrown out the window as I prepaired to retaliate.

"Are you sure you want to eat all that extra food?" I inquired, smoothly. "Binge eating because of your lack of parents was bad enough for your health." A look of unconcealed suprise flac=shed through everyone's eyes and did not escape my notice. An outburst of mine was rare to come by, and as all of the girls looked back at Maggie with an expectancy - she'd gone pale.

With that, I'd knocked her off the pedestal. I stripped her of her worth and all of the admirationthat kept her together. But, it had been too easy. I knew very well that it took more than a low-blow to tear down Maggie's deffences and crumble her.

So as time passed, she got furious and blood roured in her ears. In one swift motion, she surged forward, slamming the plate of food onto the floor where it broke to peices. Her fingers latched around the collar of my shirt, and she pulled me torwards her. Our noses were barely inches way from each other  and there was nothing remotely teasing about te glint in her eye.

"At least I understand what it's like to have parents. At least my parents dies loving me," Maggie hissed through clenched teeth, "unlike you, your parents probably abandonded you; left you to fend for yourself and your pretty little life, covering your face as if your some type of delusional mugger. Now they're out there, living their life without someone clinging to them, stopping them from discovering the world for what iit truely is. But, I wouldn't blame them, they're etter off without you." I flinched, her words stricking a raw nerve. Insults hardly fazed me anymore, but the mere mention of my parents was lethel - it was my achille's heel.

I should've seen it coming, after all, i was playing with fire.

My mind turned into a blank slate and before I knew it, I slipped out of Maggie's grip with ease, something I should've done much sooner. Croutching down, I plucked the broken glass off the floor as it slashed my hand. Thus, I forgot about the emotional pain. I forgot what it felt like to get hurt in a place where no other pain can touch.

Maggie catches my eye. She tried to smile in conquest, but the sight of my bllod had turned it into a cringe. What was left of the dish was gone. So, I hid my hands behind my back, where no one would be able to witness it miraculously heal within seconds. The eleven girls searched my face, cautiously gauging for any sign of a reaction.

They got nothing.

Turnig, I waltzed out of the predatory area into a territory of my own. A safe haven, where I would add a mark to my calendar as an indication for another terrible morning.

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Some things are often not what they seem to be. And because of that, people don't understand the differences between predictions and facts. People tend to feed off whatever information they were served on a silver platter. They'll believe anything because deep down, we're all gullible to our won ignorence.

What Maggie had claimed was nothing but an empty shell of washed up redictions= from an ocean of many others. It was not where near the real truth that lies buried in the tragedies of my story.

 Albeit, it was better off if she didn't know.

Secrets like mine pushed people off the rail, made you wade dangerous waters.

   My father - he was something entirely different from humanity. Coming from an Alpha bloodline, he was pure, he was all things good about the werewolf gene. Werewolves obtained an enhanced sence of smell, vision, hearing, speed, and the ability to shift into wolves. And my father had learned how to control these powers for the greater good - he used it to lead, not to override.

My mother was a different matter altoghether. Her species did not walk the face of earth. They were angels that lived above the clouds, out of sight and out of mind of all human beings. They could turn invisible, read emotions and minds, and possess and individual.

Both species had an undenieble beauty that made toes curl; the kind of appearence you got infatuated with at first sight.

There was a period where hybrids were a topic of interest. The coulcil - a group that was made up of the six original supernatural creatures: a werewolf, a vampire, a fairy, a witch, an angel, and a reaper that led the super world away from imbalance - combined numerous genes, seeing what would happen once the supernatural traits mixed into one.

 And the odds have been in their favor. For example, if one was to combine a gene of a werewolf and a vampire, the offspring would either be endowed with the gift of either werewolf or vampire.

 Nature staying equal.

Although, they descovered a lack of harmony. A